The Monkees finally hit the big time. They score a recording contract and a national tour, and become a sensation. Even as they sell millions of records and play to packed concert halls, however, they struggle for artistic and creative freedom, co...
Micky was building Charlotte a kid's ultimate fantasy play structure in the backyard. It was made out of wood and was going to have all sorts of bridges, turrets, swings, slides and tunnels. He showed Gabby the sketch of the design he had created as they sat on the grass, staring at the rough structure Micky had managed to erect during the morning before Gabby arrived. As soon as she got out of the car, construction had to cease, however, since the dogs raced towards their papa and commanded his attention for a good forty-five minutes while he threw them balls and chased them and tugged on toys Gabby had brought with her. Now everyone was exhausted and Micky and Gabby were sitting under a tree in the cooler grass with glasses of lemonade and resting, a dog next to each of them. For the first time in over a year, they were together as their own little family, as Gabby had always envisioned it, and she allowed herself to bask in the warm glow it brought her.
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Micky noticed that she had a big smile on her face, as she stroked Schmooshy's velvety ear with her eyes closed. She seemed to be concentrating on her other senses and taking sight out of the equation. This allowed him to take a good long look at her for the first time since he had come back into her life. What a luxury it was, he thought, and he cherished every moment of it. Suddenly, she opened her eyes, and instead of guiltily looking away, he allowed his gaze to linger on her. She returned his gaze with one of her own. Hers was more tentative and unsure, but there was no fear in it. Another step forward.
"I'm ready to answer your questions about Davy, Micky," she said.
Micky shook his head and said "I don't want to ask you questions. That would be like me interrogating you. I just would appreciate it if you would tell me the story in your own words. You can tell me what you think I ought to know, and if I do have follow-up questions, then I'll ask them. Okay?"
She nodded. "Okay. I like that way better. It's kinder of you, more generous and loving. Like I've said before, Davy and I have always been friends and have never been anything more. But something unusual did pass between us after you left. But still, no matter what you may think, it was an act of friendship on my part, even if on his part it was much deeper.
"Davy started spending more time with me after you left, while I was living here with Dawn and Peter. One night, he drank more than he usually did and so did I, and we started talking more freely than normal. Up until then, there had always seemed to be some sort of estrangement between us that was there because of barriers he had put up. I had suspected the reason why for years, but could never be sure. Then we talked and he made me realize I was right. He confessed that he was in love with me and had been in love with me for years, since the night of the protest march in '67. He said he knew he couldn't have me, so he withdrew from our friendship to try to cut off those feelings for me, but that it didn't work. And I knew he was telling me the truth because every once in a while, I'd get a strange vibe from him that he was into me more than as a friend, the most recent time being at Mike and Wendy's wedding, when we danced together. He never said a word about it to me, but I could tell by the way he was holding me when we danced – it wasn't exactly sexual, but it was loving, desperately longing, like a dying man clinging to a life raft.
