by Autumn Avery
This is his fault!
If he had just stayed away, none of this would have happened. I would have gone to work, made a few bucks, and come home. But no. Joey has to show up, causing me to freak out, causing me to drink, then leave again, causing me to drink more, and ending up with a disaster night fit for the history books.
I actually probably would have still gotten drunk, but I wouldn’t have thrown up all over him. That’s what really has me feeling bad about last night. Anger I’m pretty good at getting over—but embarrassment?
“Morning!”
I jump out of skin and leap to my feet, spinning quickly around at the sound of the voice.
Joey is standing in my kitchen, making breakfast. I guess that explains the smell of bacon.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelp, clapping a hand over my mouth. My neighbors are pains in the ass, and I’m probably already going to get an angry letter from them about last night’s noise. “Joey! What are you doing?!”
“Making breakfast for you,” he says, as though I asked him what the weather forecast was. He turns back to the stove, and I stand there for a minute, frozen at the absurdity of the situation.
“Did you…sleep here?” I ask hesitantly.
“I crashed on the couch,” he says calmly. “You need a new one. That one’s terrible.”
“You slept here?! Why?!” Slowly I pace forward. I see he’s made scrambled eggs as well. I can’t remember the last time I actually made myself a good breakfast.
“You were in bad shape last night,” he says, dumping some eggs out of the pan onto one of the plates. Two slices of toast pop up in the toaster. He grabs them and two pieces of bacon.
“Bacon? I don’t think so.” I say. My stomach is nowhere near one hundred percent, and I don’t want a repeat of the catastrophe of last night.
“Okay,” he says, carelessly tossing a piece in his mouth and chewing away. “I like bacon.”
He sets the plate on the table and goes to the fridge, pulls out a carton of orange juice, and pours me a glass. Hesitantly, I step into the kitchen and sink down into one of the fabric-covered chairs I found at the thrift store. It creaks as I get comfortable. Joey brings the glass over and takes a seat in front of me. His chair sounds like it’s going to crack under his weight. He’s a bit bigger than I am, after all. I suddenly feel self-conscious about the state of my place. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a …stranger over.
Just looking at him sitting in front of me, brings memories flooding back to me. Sitting in art class, working on my painting when he came over to me. Finding the drawing of me in the trash can. All those times he stood staring at me from across the hall, and now here he is doing the same thing, only across the table from me.
The effect he has on me is impossible to truly describe. My apartment suddenly feels like his apartment simply by him being here, and adding to the fact that he’s just made me breakfast, I suddenly feel like a visitor. Somehow it’s comforting. I’m used to doing everything for myself. It started when dad left, and only continued after high school. With Joey around, somehow all the pressure has been lifted off of me, and I’m comfortable just letting him be in charge.
But at the same time, I’m still seething with rage, and it’s going to take a lot more than a couple scrambled eggs and toast to calm me down.
“You trying to buy me off?” I ask him, chomping threateningly on a slice of toast. “You think breakfast is going to make up for six years of silence?”
For the first time, I see a slight twinge of emotion cross over his face, like my words actually got to him. But it’s so brief, I wonder if it was actually even there. I’d had dreams of my life with Joey. I’d pursue my painting, and he’d encourage me. He would travel with me. We’d go to Paris, see the Eiffel Tower for real, and then he’d snatched it all away from me.
“Your scrambled eggs are shit,” I lie, sticking my tongue out as I chew.
“You think that’s going to gross me out after last night?”
Touché.
I look away, feeling embarrassed again.
“This is so weird,” I say, more to myself than him. “You being here. Doesn’t feel…real.”
“What’s weird is you not attacking me or something. I thought you were gonna hit me last night outside the bar.”
“I was going to,” I say quickly, feeling suddenly defensive. I take a deep sip of orange juice, washing down the eggs, which are actually pretty good. “But Brad and Devon beat me to it.”
He bursts into laughter so loud it startles me. “Those two idiots,” he says. “Some people never change.”
“And you have?” I ask. He looks back at me, eyeing me for a moment like he’s trying to decide what to say. When he doesn’t speak, I continue.
“I mean, you look different. Not as scrawny as you used to be. You still stare like an idiot though.” I shovel more eggs into my mouth and take another gulp of juice. Another dumb grin. As hard as I try, I can’t seem to get a rise out of him.
“So what are you now, a chef?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “I uh…I make furniture.”
“Furniture,” I say blankly. I don’t know what I expected really, but it definitely wasn’t that.
“Yeah, I’ve got a shop over in Mount Carlyle.”
I drop my fork, letting it clatter across my plate.
“Mount. Carlyle.” I say purposefully. “The Mount Carlyle that’s twenty minutes away? That Mount Carlyle?”
Joey just nods.
“Seriously? You’re just going to nod?” I feel myself starting to lose control. All his kind gestures over the last twelve hours seem meaningless at this news. More than that, they seem…cruel, like he’s been being nice to me on purpose, for a reason, building me up to tell me where he’s been on this time, because he knows he has no excuse.
“For how long?”
After a long pause, “A while. Not too long.”
“How wonderfully specific,” I spit back, picking up my plate and dumping what’s left of my meal straight in the trash. I toss the plate into the sink, the sound of it crashing down mirroring the emotions flooding through me right now.
“So you’re not going to tell me why you left?” I say with my back to him. There’s a long pause. I don’t know if he’s trying to find the words or if he’s simply not going to tell me. My hands squeeze hard against the countertop, and I can just feel my blood pressure rising.
Finally, I spin around to face him. Our eyes meet, and even though I’m completely raging, I feel that spark in my heart that I felt six years ago, when I realized I loved him. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to deny it, it’s still there.
“Mia, I—“
And then, by some cruel twist of fate, there’s a knock at the door. I frown and check out the window, and when I see who it is, I almost have a heart attack.
“Shit! It’s Ian, my boyfriend! You have to hide!”
He scoffs like I’ve just made the most absurd suggestion ever. “Oh, come on.”
“Seriously, Joey! He can’t see you here! He’ll freak! He proposed to me last night!”
“So…your fiancé then?”
I freeze, then slowly turn to face him. A strange look comes over his face, one I can’t read. What is he thinking? But before I can get into it, another knock comes from the door.
“Mia! Mia, you there? I’ve been texting you all morning.”
“Shit!” I say, racing to my phone and checking it. He’s right. Fifteen missed texts and two calls. He must be worried.
“Just a minute!” I shout, rushing over to Joey and pulling him from the chair. It’s like trying to lift a slab of steel, I’m just not strong enough. He groans, annoyed, but gets to his feet.
“Just, get in the back or something!”
“What is this, high school? Come on—“
The front door opens behind me, and I hear Ian’s voice.
“Mia, are you okay—“
Busted.
>
I turn and see his face, confused, but not freaking out. Ian is not quick to anger, and I know he’s waiting to hear my explanation.
I search for the words, but none come.
There’s no way to explain this.
I can barely explain it to myself.
I cough, trying to clear my throat, which has suddenly gone dry. Finally, Ian speaks.
“What…what is this?”
“It’s not what it looks like,” Joey says, but before he can finish, Ian holds up a hand and glares at him.
“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to my fiancé, okay?” He turns back to me, an intensity in his eyes as he leans forward. “Mia, what is this—?”
“She’s not your fiancé,” Joey says quietly.
That registers, and Ian’s composed face is overcome with an angry glare that he turns on Joey.
“I’m sorry?”
This is bad. If Ian gets angry enough, he will freak out and do something stupid, and after seeing what Joey did to Brad and Devon last night, I’m suddenly scared for him.
“Okay, can we just all calm down please,” I say, but Ian is already pushing past me. Joey doesn’t move, not even pretending to be intimidated. He’s at least half a foot taller than Ian, with way more muscle, too, but Ian is very possessive over me, and he’s not thinking straight.
“Ian, stop. Stop!”
“What did you say to me?” Ian says, raising his voice. “Better yet, who the fuck are you, anyway, and what are you doing in my fiancé’s apartment?” Ian snaps and lashes out, swinging wildly at Joey.
“No!” I shout, trying to get between them. But Ian pushes past me and swings again. Joey ducks the punch lazily, and I brace myself for what’s about to come. But he doesn’t retaliate. He could lay Ian out in one punch, I’ve seen him do it, but he doesn’t. Ian keeps swinging, but Joey dodges all the punches and sidesteps behind the couch, putting it between them.
“Ian! Stop! Stop it!”
He swings again, but trips on the coffee table and crashes down to the floor. I take the opportunity to race over to Joey and grab him by the arms, pushing him toward the door. I have to get him out of here.
“Go! Okay? Just go, please!”
He sighs, as though he’s completely unfazed by this, and looks down at me as I twist the knob and push him out onto the porch. He looks more annoyed than anything as he steps outside.
“He’s not good enough for you, Mia,” he says intently. The breath escapes my lungs. I was not expecting that, and I’m stuck in a stare until I hear Ian get up behind me.
Panic takes over, and I slam the door in Joey’s face, spin around, and put my back to it. Ian tries to get by and grab the handle, but I put both palms against his chest and stop him.
“Stop! Stop, okay? It’s not that bad, just let me explain!”
“Who the fuck was that, Mia!”
He tries to push past me toward the door, but I push him back again.
“Stop, Ian! Okay? Just stop, and let me explain!”
This has been the most unbelievable moment, and I take a minute to catch my breath. My head is still pounding from the hangover. He looks calmed down now, and I step past Ian into the kitchen and pull out a bottle of Advil. I pour myself a glass of water and wash down two pills. Trying his best to relax, Ian leans against the doorway, waiting for me to speak.
“That was Joey Mason,” I say as matter of fact as I can.
He frowns and gives me an odd look.
“Joey…Mason?” Ian says, thinking back. I’ve never spoken about Joey to Ian. Only my mom and closest friends know about him. I didn’t want to give Ian any reason to worry. Besides, it’s a pretty crazy thing to tell your current boyfriend that you still have feelings for someone from six years ago that you never even really dated.
“Isn’t he that kid that went missing a few years ago?”
Ian is from Glenville, two towns over, and wasn’t really part of the whole Joey fiasco, but everyone around has at least heard about it. I nod, and he frowns, not understanding. Why would he?
“And he was doing what over here?”
“We were…friends in high school. I haven’t seen him in six years.”
“Okay, but what was he doing over here.” I can see the concern in his eyes. He wants to know if I’ve cheated on him. It should be easy enough to just explain it to him, but for some reason, the words get stuck in my throat. I don’t know how to tell him, or how much. Somehow, me trying to not look guilty is making me feel and look guilty.
Finally, when I don’t respond, Ian snaps.
“Mia…what was he doing over here? Were you—“
“No! Ian! Look, I ran into him at Gina’s, okay. I haven’t seen him in six years, and he came by last night to say hi. I was drunk…and he took care of me. I guess he ended up passing out on the couch.”
“Took care of you,” he says to himself, obviously not too pleased. “You didn’t think, I dunno, maybe your fiancé should take care of you?”
“You’re not my fiancé, Ian…” I say quietly. It’s not the nicest thing to say, but it’s true. I instantly feel like shit when I see how my words affect him, though. He needs to understand, though. “And I didn’t call him. He just showed up. Besides, would you have really wanted me calling you over late at night to take care of me when I’m a hot mess?”
“And that?” He points to me and I look down and realize I’m still wearing Joey’s sweatshirt. I just can’t win, can I? “You just ended up wearing his sweatshirt?”
“I got…my shirt got dirty, so I…”
Ian hangs his head, and I realize how this all must appear to him; I tell him not to propose to me, he leaves and comes back the next morning to find his girlfriend alone in the house with a man, and she’s wearing his sweatshirt. Not exactly the most innocent of scenarios.
“I’m sorry, Ian. But nothing happened, I can promise you—“
“I know,” he says, looking up at me. “I know nothing happened. I trust you. But, Mia…I love you, and I want to marry you.”
He starts walking toward me, and I realize that this has only fueled his love for me even more. But this is not the time. This can’t happen. My whole body tenses up, feeling instantly hot again. I want to run. This is all just too much for me. My head is spinning.
“Please, Mia,” he says, getting down on one knee before me. “Please marry me.”
I look down at him, putting it all out there for me, the woman he loves.
I’d asked him not to do this, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it, and seeing him now before me makes me realize how right I was.
I have to do something now, and I don’t want to do it.
I have to break his heart.
Chapter 6
“We should get a drink,” Cassidy says.
“Uh, did you forget about last night?” I say as we sit, almost swallowed up by her worn leather couch. I’ve just told her the news; Ian and I are taking a break.
It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but it’s the right decision. Too much is going on right now, and I need time to reevaluate. If I’m going to marry Ian, I need to do it after I’ve resolved things with Joey. Right now my mind is a whirl, and I don’t want to make any brash decisions. He’s a good man, I just don’t know if he’s right for me. If I marry him on a whim without resolving things with Joey, and it ends up ruining our marriage, I will feel horrible. Everyone will.
“You should just marry him,” Cassidy says.
“Who?”
“Ian! Who did you think I’m talking about?” she exclaims, as though I’m being utterly absurd. “Who did you think I meant? Joey?”
I shrug and give her a non-committal look with a sheepish grin, but she’s not having it.
“You need to think, Mia. I mean really think about what you’re doing.”
Uh oh, here comes a classic Cassidy speech. She has a tendency to take over being my mother sometimes. I love her for it, but sometime
s it’s a little much, and right now I’m not sure if I want to hear it. Cassidy isn’t exactly what you’d call a romantic, and prefers the single life to the relationship life, and is a bit more cynical when it comes to matters of the opposite sex.
“I mean, what is this? Joey used to basically stalk you until he finally had the balls to ask you out. You guys were official for what…one day? And then he was gone? I mean, he completely bailed on you after that fight with Brad. What is this weird fantasy you’re holding on to? It’s going to ruin your life.”
She doesn’t understand, and I don’t expect her to. I barely understand it myself, and I don’t know how I could possibly explain it to anyone else. I run my fingers across my neck, trying to de-stress. Cassidy’s house is stuffy, and I’m feeling cramped. I get up and lift the window, taking a deep breath of the cool, fresh air.
Cassidy’s house abuts an enormous field set aside as conservation land, and far off in the distance is Stonehill High School. As I gaze out across the scene, I try to pretend I’m sixteen again, going to school with my friends, gossiping about nonsense, heading to a place where Joey is just a face in the crowd that I haven’t met yet, that I haven’t fallen in love with, who hasn’t betrayed and broken me.
How different would my life be now if I hadn’t met him? I’d probably be married to Ian. Or would I? Maybe the course of my entire life would have been altered if not for that one day. The butterfly effect. I know it’s no use looking back, but anything is better than the choice I was forced to make earlier today. The choice of marrying a man I don’t love, or breaking his heart.
“I can’t explain it, Cass,” I finally say with a sigh, wishing that I could.
“I never understood what you saw in him back then,” she replies.
“I know.”
“But now I do.”
I look back at her, wondering what she’s talking about. She has a sly grin on her face and raises one eyebrow.
“He sure grew into his own, didn’t he?”
I burst into laughter, the first time in days. Cassidy does have a way of lightening the mood.
“So you noticed,” I say.
“I got a quick peek before I left,” she confesses. “I’ll admit it.”