Alone 🌑 Michael Nesmith

Chapter One

I've thrown myself back into my work. I hang out with my friends occasionally, and I've stayed in touch with the Monkees (the only exception being Mike, whom I haven't heard from) but it's been tough.

Right now I sit across from Pete at an icecream shop called 'A La Mode', licking a black raspberry chocolate chip icecream cone as Pete retells the story of how the pilot episode had scored, for the 10th time today, and the way he and the guys felt when it turned out that bob had added the screentests, and that they had gotten picked up for 32 whole episodes. He licks his own icecream cone when he's finished, and after I've waited a solid minute to know that he didn't have any extra comments to add- as he usually did, I tell him about work.

"Mi-" I clear my throat. "Max... Max is having his baby soon, I'm really happy for them. Imagine having a baby." I put extra emphasis on the 'a' simply to remind myself who I'm talking about. I laugh and tap my fingers on the glossy table. "I've been getting settled into my new house- it's been tough adjusting. I have a pool in the back, but that doesn't make much sense because it's only a few minutes walk from the beach- it's a super low rent cost as well. Maybe that's because someone died on the kitchen counter? Sorry-" I laugh again, meeting Peters eyes. He simply stares on at me with great interest. "I'm rambling."

"That's ok! I love to listen."

"Are you sure?"

"Yup!" He licks his chocolate icecream.

"Can I be honest?" He nods his head in encouragement. "I don't like living alone. I thought about getting a dog, or-" I blush. "Maybe even adopting. But I barely even have a job because I'm a women, I doubt any adoption agency would let a single women adopt." Pete sighs.

"That's really stupid, huh?" I nod my head.

"So uh... how are the guys?" I knew how the guys were, I was really just asking about mike, and Pete knew it.

"Really, Maggie. You need to talk to him. He's lonely- he actually think he screwed up by telling you that stuff." I laugh bitterly.

"He changed his phone number because of me. I don't think he wants to hear from me." My hand goes to my pocket, where I've kept the folded up receipt with his old phone number scribbled in it. I had stared at it so long that I remember the exact numbers, the exact hand-writing. Hell- I even remember what he received the receipt for- two bottles of Coca-cola and a pair of boots.

"Give it to me." I eye Pete in question, following his eyes as he glares at my pocket. I sigh and hand over the paper. He pulls a pen from his own pocket and scribbles the number down. "Saved you the trouble of looking it up in the phone-book."

He winks at me and stands up, icecream still in hand. He stops at the trash can, eyes the cone, then the trash can, and then the cone again that was now running down his hand. He whimpers and walks out the door, without throwing away the cone.