The envelope sits by the computer for months, the keys safely inside. Dirk hasn’t looked inside since the day he opened it. He knows he should send them back, but it has become a case of if you don’t acknowledge it, it doesn’t exist.

And in a very real sense, despite seeing it every day, it does cease to be real to Dirk.

Then out of the blue, Michael calls him one day in June. The conversation is amicable, full of awkward silences and nervous laughs, neither acknowledging the fact that they were once much more than friends. Michael talks of the ever turbulent relationship with the wife he cannot live with yet cannot seem to divorce and Dirk listens. He wants to tell Michael that after 6 years of living apart, it’s time to shit or get off the pot but he doesn’t. It’s not any of his business anymore.

Finally, Michael turns the spotlight onto the elephant in the room, asking if Dirk knows how they lost the thread that brought them together. Dirk knows, but after all the time that has passed sees no point in dredging it up — it will help no one. Michael persists.

“Where do ‘we’ fit in the history of Dirk? Our bondage play…who does that evoke? If you would agree to come back for 6 months, I would use everything at my disposal — sex, bondage, discipline, hypnosis, behavior modification — you wouldn’t recognize yourself at the end of that time. You would act, feel, look, conduct yourself like a whole other person at that point. I think we’d both like that…”

Dirk chooses not to acknowledge the offer on the table — they both know it will not be accepted. He had known there would be such an offer…he just thought it would be himself making it. Another awkward silence follows. Michael tries to circumvent the sting of the rejection by saying he guesses his little joke was meant to be funny but apparently failed. The conversation dies a slow, withering death from there and after a few more failed attempts to jump start it, Michael wishes him well in things and says he’d like to stay in touch. Dirk returns the good wishes and says he’d like to know how things are going for Michael, too.

Dirk hangs up and despite the knowledge that ending things was the right thing for him, he feels guilty. He wonders if Michael will ever find someone that will love him the way he longs for. If Michael will ever stop posturing long enough to be himself and realize that that’s enough. And he wonders if by not going back to Michael, he’s thrown away his only chance not to spend his life alone.

And then in early August, he receives an IM:

I’m going to be moving to a better location for work and I will need the keys back to avoid losing the $150 key deposit. I’d appreciate you sending them registered/insured. I’d be happy to reimburse you.

Reading the message, Dirk feels a sense of real loss for the first time. Even though they haven’t seen each other in nearly a year, there continues to be a persistent sense of something lost, of things left unfinished. Perhaps even more, there is a profound sense of of grief that the apartment where they spent so many hours together will forever be lost to him. In many ways, the apartment and the security he felt there seems to be a greater loss than the relationship itself, which seems saddest of all to Dirk.

Dirk returns the keys, insuring them but unable to send them certified for some reason even the postal clerk cannot explain. Back home, he sends Michael an e-mail telling him the keys are en route and asking him to send confirmation of their arrival so that in case they go lost, actions can be taken to make an insurance claim.

A day passes.

Then a week.

Dirk calls and leaves another message asking Michael to call or e-mail regarding the status of the keys.

Again, days pass.

After 3 more weeks, Dirk makes one final effort but receives no reply. Inexplicably, Dirk’s feelings are hurt. He knows he should accept that the part of his life with Michael is over, but he was naive enough to believe they could part on good terms, remaining at least civil with one another. Obviously Dirk lives in a world of his own where the sky is a brilliant blue every day and the clouds are particularly fluffy.

And so after 30 days, he throws away the postal receipt.