by Tucker, RH
“Okay, weirdo.” A soft laugh between us levels out the awkward silence. “Thank you for coming over, that’s really sweet. But seriously, I’m good.”
“Yeah, because when someone quotes Nietzsche, that always means they’re good.”
“It’s nothing, Tim,” I say, looking away. “It’s just stuff going on between Micah and me. I … I really don’t feel comfortable talking about it with you.”
“Okay,” he nods, “I can respect that. But just so you know, I am here, V.” Reaching out, he grabs hold of my hand over the table, catching me off-guard. I stare at his hand over mine, remembering the times he held it before. “I’ve screwed up in the past. I broke your trust, and I wasn’t lying when I said I regret it. Every day I regret it. It just took me getting my head on right to realize that.”
Pulling my hand away, I stand up from the table. “Tim, I don’t know what you think you know, but we’re not broken up. Micah and me, I mean. We have this thing going on, but he’s still my boyfriend. We’re still together.”
“I know that,” he answers, getting to his feet. “But I also know you’re amazing, Veronica.”
I scoff and make air quotes with my fingers. “Yeah, for a ‘big girl’.”
“I was just saying stupid shit,” he replies, cringing, and I roll my eyes at him. “Sorry, that’s neither here nor there. I know what I said, and I’m sorry. You’re not, like, morbidly obese or anything.”
“Tim, you aren’t helping.”
“I know.” He grimaces. “Damn it, you see, I’m horrible with words. I was stupid. I’ll keep saying it because it’s the truth. I was a complete ass, and I’ll apologize every day until you believe me. And that’s why I’m here.”
“I do believe you.”
“No,” he takes a step closer, grabbing my hand again, “I know you do, but I’m not talking about me. After finally realizing my mistake, I had to tell you. I knew I would never feel right unless you knew how sorry I was. I’m here because your jealous ass of a boyfriend should feel the same way.” I take a step back, but he grabs my other hand. “Please, I know what you said. I know you guys are together still. But why hasn’t he fixed this, Veronica? Whatever’s going on between you two, why isn’t he the one here right now, telling you he’ll do everything he can to make it right? That’s why I’m here. That, and this …”
I’m not sure how to comprehend anything that’s happening. He has no clue what the situation is between Micah and me, which is why his questions make no sense. Micah didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one with the problem. But his words, the closeness of him, they both keep me frozen in place. Then he leans over and kisses me.
For a split-second, I remember the kisses we’ve shared. I remember, no matter how bad things ended between us, how it felt when he’d hold my hand or kiss me. But all it takes is that split-second to realize it’s nothing compared to what I feel when I’m with Micah.
Yanking my hands free, I push him away. “What are you doing?”
“I want you back, Veronica. It took me over a year to figure it out, but I do. I want a second chance.”
“You’re crazy.” I cross my arms, trying to give him as much of a hard-nose stare as I can. “You just said it yourself, it took you a year. A year, Tim. To realize that you actually like me? And figure it out? Seriously, you shouldn’t have to ‘figure it out’ when you like someone. Maybe if you’re falling in love, but we never loved each other. At least, not in a real way.”
“But I want to, V.” He steps closer, holding my face, inching his lips closer to mine. Uncrossing my arms, I place my hands against his chest, making sure I keep a barrier between us. “I want to try again with you. Please?”
Floating even closer, his cobalt eyes pierce mine. I remember when we went out, wanting nothing more than for him to be like he is now. Holding me, telling me he desires me. But it’s not what I want anymore. No matter what my extreme inhibited mind tells me about how I think Micah feels, he’s never done something to make me question his words. I do the questioning all on my own. And whatever I think may happen now, there’s no way I want to go back to someone who had me and let me go, instead of being with someone who has me now and loves me.
“Am I interrupting something?”
My head jolts to the side and I see Micah, standing in front of the sliding door that leads inside.
“Micah,” I whisper his name, unsure if he even hears me.
“Yeah. You know, your boyfriend? And the guy you’ve been ignoring. But I guess I see why now.”
“What?” I look back at Tim, who’s still staring at me like he’s waiting for my response to what he said and completely ignoring the fact that’s he’s holding my face as Micah scowls. “No!” I jump back. “No, this isn’t what it looks like.”
“Right.” He narrows his eyes, keeping them locked solely on me. “Because you and your ex always just stand around with your hands on each other talking.”
“No!” I yell again, running over to him. “Micah, you have to believe me. This … this is nothing.” I spin around and look at Tim. “Tim, tell him. Tell him this isn’t what it looks like.” He shrugs with a smug cavalier expression. My mouth drops. “Tim! Tell him!”
“You know what? Save it, okay?” Micah turns around and walks through the sliding door, into the house. “When Miguel texted me to get my ass over here, I thought something was wrong. That you were hurt or something.”
I hurry in front of him, blocking his exit through the front door. “Micah, you need to listen to me. I’ve never lied to you. Please, you have to believe me. This is nothing. Tim came over here, and he was talking, but I was telling him no.”
“That didn’t look like you were telling him anything.”
“I know that’s not what it looked like, but I was! I promise you, I was. He even kissed me and—”
“He kissed you?”
I cringe at my stupidity. “Yes, but I pushed him away. I don’t want him, Micah.”
“Yeah, well it doesn’t seem like you want me either.”
He tries to move again, but I press my hands against his chest. I know my parents aren’t home, neither is Javier, but I don’t know where Miguel and Tomás are. Hopefully they aren’t around listening, because I feel like such an idiot. As vast as my insecurity is about my weight, I have no idea how I’ll break through Micah’s fear of someone cheating on him. But if nothing else, he has to believe I would never do that.
“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you, but I needed time. I still do. I don’t know how to feel about anything.”
“You know what, just forget it.”
Forget what? How I’ve been ignoring him? What he thinks he saw? Or us? He can’t mean us.
Letting a deep breath out, he closes his eyes, slowly shaking his head. “I guess I’m the jackass, right? Maybe I’m the last person on Earth that thinks it’s not okay to cheat on someone. Lana did it. My dad did it. Now you.”
As much as it stings to think he believes that’s what I was doing, I’m completely shook at him naming his father. “Your dad?”
He lifts his hands high in complete exasperation. “Yeah! That was a juicy tidbit they left out of his bio. Jacob Fernandez: loving father, providing husband, and oh yeah, cheated on the woman who would be the mother of his son.”
“Oh my God, Micah. I’m sorry.” Stepping closer, I’m hit with a wave of rejection as he pulls his arms away.
“Don’t. Just forget it, Veronica. Forget everything.” His gaze meets mine, void of all emotion. “I guess you were right. I am too good for you.”
I don’t know what, if anything, he could’ve ever done in the past or in the future that would hurt and sting like those words. Words that confirm all of my insecurities. As I lift my hands to my mouth, his eyes follow the stream of tears that roll over my cheeks.
“Hey.” Micah turns around and is met by Tomás’ fist. I jump at the loud smack, watching Micah drop to a knee. “Get the fuck out of our
house.”
Micah gets back to his feet, letting out a painful grunt, wiping away the blood from his lip. He takes one more look at me, then rushes through the front door.
“Veronica, you okay?” Tim’s words echo around me, but I can’t register anything anymore. I stand there, tears still falling, unsure if I’ll ever be able to forget Micah telling me he’s too good for me.
“Tim, unless you want the same thing, you’ll leave. Right now.”
My eyes finally lift, but I can’t stand to look at him for longer than a second. Maybe if he just told Micah the truth, none of this would have happened. Clinging to that thread of … hope? Despair? I muster up enough strength to form words as he passes me by.
“Don’t ever try to talk to me again. Ever.”
He stops and nods. Then he’s gone, too.
Tomás shuts the door and, without a word, wraps his arms around me. The dam breaks. My eyes flood and I sob deeply and loud into his chest, as he holds me, whispering to me that it’ll be okay. I wish I could believe him, but I don’t.
Chapter 33
Micah
The instant the words leave my lips, I regret them. The same words she confessed to me about being terrified over, I angrily shoved at her and feel like garbage. So when Tomás punched me, I waited on my knee, tasting the blood, hoping he wouldn’t stop. Hurling her words back at her made me feel like shit as soon as they left, and I deserved more than just getting Tomás’ fist to my face.
That was a week ago.
Since then she hasn’t texted or called. Neither have I. Somewhere in the back of my mind I’m hoping we aren’t over. But as hard as I try to believe it’s not, everything else tells me it is.
“Come on, man! What is that?” Taylor growls. He finally talked me into staying after work and getting in a workout session before heading home. I know he’s hoping it’ll get me out of my despondency.
I place the bench press bar back on the rack, sitting up. “It’s all I got.”
“Bullshit,” he spits out. “You maxed out at double this weight a few weeks ago.”
I take a gulp from my water bottle. “Yeah, well, that was a few weeks ago.”
I know he thinks he’s helping, but I’d rather be anywhere else than here. If I didn’t have to pay my share of rent, I might have just called off work. I’m already behind on signing up for my classes for next semester. Working out right now is the absolute last thing I want to do, but I know if I go home Taylor is going to keep hassling me to do something. He’s been doing it all week.
“Hey, what’s up, Becky?” Taylor’s attention shifts as one of the regulars at the gym stop by.
“Hey, Taylor. Micah.” I wave and take another drink of water. “You guys are looking good.”
“We do what we can,” Taylor replies, making me roll my eyes. “When are we gonna get that personal training time for you hooked up? I’m free next week.”
“We’ll see,” she answers, obviously flirting, as I stare at the mirror in front of me and watch her playful tug at Taylor’s tank top. “Me and some friends were going out tonight. You guys want to join?”
“Oh, I think that can be arranged,” Taylor says, looking over at me. “Micah needs to get out anyway.”
Seriously? I narrow my eyes at him because he should know if I don’t want to be out with my best friend, I damn well don’t want to be out partying with some girls. So, because he throws my name out, I decide to make sure this doesn’t go any further. I’ve only done it once, but this calls for it.
“Actually,” I stand up from the bench, “I can’t make it tonight.”
“Come on, man.” Taylor swats my chest.
“Yeah, Micah,” Becky adds. “My friend Pam is totally cute and …” she leans closer, lowering her voice, “you didn’t hear this from me, but she’s been eyeing you around the gym.”
Taylor smiles, wiggling his eyebrows at me. What a dick.
“Wow, that’s flattering. Thank you. But I really can’t.” Taylor will probably complain for a week for what I’m about to say, but neither of them will stop unless I do it. “Um, actually, I caught an STI last week.” Her eyes pop open, wrinkling her nose. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Taylor getting hot, shaking his head. “Yeah, sorry. I’m on antibiotics right now. Probably not a good time for some fun, if you know what I mean.”
“O-oh.” Becky takes a step back, and I have to keep myself from smiling at her unease. “Yeah. For sure. That makes sense. Um …” She looks at Taylor, then around the gym. “Well, I better get going. See you guys later.”
I feel kind of proud of myself for how straight-faced I handled that.
“You asshole,” Taylor seethes.
“What?” I reply with a chuckle.
“Guilt by association. She’s gonna think that of you, then think of me, now my chances are totally shot.”
Another laugh escapes me. “I think you’ll be all right, Don Juan.”
“Damn it, Micah. If you don’t—”
Before he can continue my phone starts to ring, and I hurry to my gym towel on the floor, where my phone is. Every time it goes off, a shred of hope strikes, hoping it’s going to be Veronica. And every time it’s not, that shred dies off. What’s even worse is when it’s one of the last people I want to talk to.
“Is it?” Taylor asks.
I shake my head. “No.” I hit ignore and toss the phone on the bench.
Leaning over, he sees the screen. “You need to talk to him, Micah.”
“No, I really don’t.”
“Yes. You do. You need to at least hear what he has to say. It’s not a secret.” I glance at him with a warning stare. “Okay, it was to you, but not to your mom. She knew about it. Whatever happened, happened in the past. They worked through it, and they’re still together. You need to talk to him and at least hear his side of it.”
Reaching down to pick up my towel, I sling it over my shoulder and grab my water bottle. “What’s he gonna say? That he’s sorry? That he messed up and my mom took him back? I kind of figured that part out, since they’re still together. I don’t need to listen to a man I thought I knew, tell me about monumental mistakes he’s made in the past, then hid them from me.”
“You’re his son, man. Of course, he wouldn’t want you to know that.”
“I practically worshipped the ground he walked on. And now I find out he’s a completely different person. Screw that.”
“He’s not perfect, Micah. No one is. Not even Veronica.”
My face snaps toward him, and I hold up a finger, warning him not to say another word. When everything happened with Lana, he’d always take shots at her. It was annoying and yeah, some of it downright rude, but I think I put up with it for so long because I knew he wasn’t saying anything I kind of didn’t already believe. But I won’t have it with Veronica. He’s not gonna say one word about her.
As if reading my thoughts, he lets out a sigh, holding up his hands in apology.
My phone goes off again. When I’ve ignored my dad’s calls, he always calls once or twice more. Turning around to hit ignore and head off to the lockers, Taylor intercepts my path and grabs the phone, answering it.
“T!”
“Hey, Jacob,” he answers my phone and holds up a finger to me. “No, yeah he’s all good. We’re at the gym right now.”
“Don’t do it,” I caution him, knowing how his brain works.
“Yeah, thanks. Signed up last week. No, he’s still working on his schedule.”
“I swear to God, Taylor, get off the phone.”
“Yup, I got it actually. Thanks. They’re bumping me up a dollar, and I get a fancy new name tag that has ‘supervisor’ on it. … I know, right?”
“Taylor,” I groan through clenched teeth.
“For sure,” he responds to the phone still, smiling at me. “No, you know, I was telling him the same thing. In a couple of hours?”
“Taylor, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
“Yeah, no prob
lem, Jacob. I’ll let him know.”
“You’ll let me know shit, that’s what you’ll let me know. Get off the phone.”
“No, he’ll be there. For sure.”
“You’re dead. You hear me? Dead.”
“Okay.” His smile turns cheesy, in the only way Taylor can be. “Totally. … Yeah, thanks again. … Yeah. Talk to you later. Bye.” He tosses the phone up at me. “You’re meeting him in two hours at the diner. If you don’t show up, I’ll drag you to their house later tonight myself.”
“I hate you.”
* * *
Pulling into the parking lot, I see my dad’s car. As much as I don’t want to be here, I know in the back of my mind that I need to be. Taylor doesn’t usually make empty threats, so even if he said it jokingly, he would do whatever it takes to drag me to their house if I ditched this meeting. But I need to hear this. At least once.
Walking inside, the soft, dim lights and alternative rock music that usually brings up happy memories of eating here are absent. From outside, I could see that he’s sitting in our usual spot, but I look around, avoiding eye contact with him until necessary. A couple tables are taken. All things considered, it’s a slow night.
Debbie rounds a corner, coming out from the kitchen, and spots me, smiling. “Hey, hun.”
“Hey, Debbie?”
“Your dad’s in your guys’ usual spot.”
“Yeah.” I offer a strained smile and then finally turn to him.
“I’ll be with you guys in just a few minutes.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” I reply, but keep my eyes locked on him.
He’s staring at me, and I suddenly feel like our roles are reversed. As if I’m the parent and he’s the child, and we’re about to have an earnest conversation where he’s confessing a wrongdoing all while waiting to hear how I’ll respond.
“Thanks for coming, son,” he says as I pull out my chair.
“Yeah, well, when Taylor answered the phone, I guess I didn’t really have a choice. He’s dragged me to parties against my will before, so when he threatened to drag me to your house if I didn’t show up, I figured I might as well get it over with.”