by Tucker, RH
Everyone’s taller than me, but looking up at him, I’m drawn to his shoulders stretching out the shirt. I’ve seen it on him before. It has a small logo from a video game with a circle and three dots in the middle. He’s never been flashy, and I notice his jeans that are slightly torn—not in the way some of my designer jeans are distressed or ripped how I buy them off of the rack, but because they’re his favorite pair. And his shirt I remember because we were making out once and I made a joke about him and his video game shirts. The red one he’s wearing specifically because I’ve worn it on more than one occasion.
Then I remember our last argument, and that he didn’t bother to call me for a week.
“Hey,” he whispers over to me, and I roll my eyes. I don’t know why I do it because I shouldn’t be annoyed over anything between us anymore. He must have moved on by now. I’m trying to do the same.
“Hey,” I reply.
“Um, sorry, but do you know if Julie is here?”
“Julie?” I ask, keeping my gaze fixed on his. “Are you going out with her?”
“What? No.” He shakes his head, looking at me like I’m insane. “She’s the TA here, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, the first couple of hours. I’m here from eight until ten.”
His faces drops. His jaw hangs open. “You? You assist in here?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Um …” His Adam’s apple bobs and he scans the area again.
“Are you taking classes now? I thought you hated school.”
“I … I do,” he responds, still looking around. “It’s just …”
“Jackson, it’s okay.” I let out a defeated sigh. “If you’re going out with her, you can tell me. I won’t say anything. Just don’t be an ass to her like you were to me.”
“Excuse me?” My words seem to catch his attention and he curls a lip. “How was I to you?”
“Oh, please,” I reply with a harsh whisper. “Like you don’t know. Part of it is probably my fault. You never acted like you wanted something serious. But when you’d call or text me, I’d always come running back. Just don’t string her along. She’s nice.”
His insulted expression vanishes as fast as it appeared, and he looks back down at the ground. “Cindy … I never meant to—”
“Don’t,” I snap a little harder than I probably should. “I don’t need any apology from you. Not anymore.”
He scoffs. “Damn it, Cin, you make it really impossible to be apologetic with that attitude. You’re pretty demanding, you know that?”
I jump up out of my chair. “I’m demanding? Why, just because I wanted a guy I was going out with to return my phone calls?”
Our whispers are growing louder, but when I look around, thankfully it doesn’t seem like anyone is paying attention.
“Return your phone calls? Oh, is that all you wanted? The way I saw it, you wanted me to wait on you hand and foot. Look, I didn’t grow up with parents giving me everything I wanted, so I’m sorry if I—”
“Again with the parents argument! We’ve had this one before and my story hasn’t changed. I’m not apologizing for my parents being able to buy me things. I never asked for you to spend money on me. Or to quit working for your dad and work on Wall Street or something.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means. Who cares what kind of job I have if I can’t even buy you some stupid, fancy-named coffee? I’m never gonna get some six-figure job.”
I fold my arms, letting out a huff. “Every argument we’ve had is either about money or you avoiding me. I’m over it. What do you want, Jackson? And for the record, just because they call it a Venti, doesn’t mean it’s some fancy-named coffee. I can spell it out for you if you want. It’s only five letters long.”
His eyes narrow. Staring at him, I see his jaw clench. We’ve had these kind of arguments multiple times since we went out on our first date, but for some reason I feel like I’ve crossed a line.
Opening the binder he’s carrying, he rips out a piece of paper and slams it on the desk.
“I’m turning in this week’s assignment.”
“What?” I look down at the paper. His fingers are plastered over it still, but his name is at the top. The parts I can see are filled with different sentences.
“I’m dyslexic, Cindy.”
Without another word, he turns and walks out of the room. I never inspect papers or assignments turned in by the people taking this class. That’s not part of my job. Julie and I are just here to assist, gather any drop-offs, and turn them in to the professor. So even if he has turned them in before, I would’ve never known.
Lifting the paper up, I see his lettering and memories come flashing back. He almost always called me, when he actually did call. I’d send him text messages, and I even told him a couple of times I like texting. It’s easier. Faster. I just shoot off a message and get back to what I was doing, waiting for a reply. When he did message me, I remember now that his words always seemed a little off, but it was nothing I really took notice off. Spellcheck sucks sometimes. I never gave it a second thought.
But this is like a huge piece of the puzzle that’s just been dropped into place. He’d make comments here or there about me being so smart. There were even a couple of times, in quiet moments we’d share, when he’d say I was too good for him. It wasn’t a completely serious statement, because he always said it with a smile or a laugh. I’d tell him I’m not and then we’d return to whatever we were doing.
And now, thinking about it, a lot of those times he wouldn’t text me for days on end after. Was that why? Does he really think I’m too good for him? The new revelation, combined with the fact that he’s always made off-handed comments about the money my parents make as doctors compared to him working at his dad’s business, suddenly seems to totally make sense now.
How could something like this have never been brought up before?
* * *
I’m still reeling from the argument and revelation from Jackson yesterday, as I meet up with Veronica in the campus café.
“What’s up, chica?” she asks, sitting next to me, and dropping off my iced latte in front of me.
“Hey, thanks.” Grabbing the drink, I take a sip. “Not much.” Should I tell her? It seems like Jackson never wanted to tell me, so maybe I shouldn’t.
“Micah, Taylor, and Sasha were thinking of finally doing that bowling game? Want to join?”
“Yeah, sure.” I shrug, taking another sip. “I haven’t really spent much time with Joe. We went to a sports pub he likes to hang out at, but it wasn’t really my scene.”
“Maybe …” She looks away, taking a drink of her Frappuccino. “Are you thinking of getting serious with him?”
“I don’t know.” I lift my shoulders. “He’s cute and all, but there’s something about him that I like, and I don’t like. If that makes any sense.”
She nods, staring at her drink. “So, maybe just you can come and hang out then …” Her eyes never lift from her drink.
“Vero, do you not like him?”
“Well …” She cringes, finally meeting my eyes. “Look, I know you think he’s cute, but I don’t know if he’s such a great match.”
“What does that mean?”
“Micah thinks he’s a douche.” She cringes at her bluntness.
I can’t argue with her. I don’t think that of Joe, but the few times we’ve gone out, there is something about him that rubs me the wrong way. He’s nice to me, but I always get the sense that he’s rude to other people. Except his friends. Still, her words remind me of Micah’s sudden departure from the bowling alley.
“Did something happen that night at the bowling game? You never told me.” Chewing on her straw, she gazes around the café. “Veronica?”
Her slightly embarrassed expression switches to one of hurt. “I don’t know. I mean, I know, but I don’t.”
“Okay, that d
oesn’t make any sense.”
Letting out a long sigh, her gaze meets mine. “Micah told me Joe said something to him.”
“Something? Like what?”
She looks away again. “I didn’t want to say anything because I know you kind of like him. And Micah still won’t tell me what he really said, only that it got him super mad. Joe mentioned something about me and my weight.”
“He what?”
“Like I said, I’m not exactly sure what his words were, but Micah was seriously pissed off that night. But that’s not the worst part.”
“Hey, ladies,” Joe calls out from two tables down, walking over to us.
“Joe, what—”
My words are cut off by Veronica. “I gotta get to class,” she says, piercing me with her eyes, shaking her head. We’ve exchanged enough silent conversations for me to know she doesn’t want me to say anything, but now my curiosity is piqued. “Later.”
As she walks away, I watch her leave the room, and Joe takes a seat in front of me. “So, I was thinking of doing an actual date tonight. Dinner and a movie at my place. What do you say?”
I can’t stand not knowing the mystery words. Taking out my phone, I text Micah.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I reply, staring at my phone.
Cindy: Micah, tell me what Joe said that night. Vero mentioned it, but not the whole thing.
“I’ll pick you up if you want?” Joe asks, and I nod, watching him smile.
Micah: You don’t want to know. I’d just say don’t go out with him. He’s an ass.
Cindy: MICAH!!!
“Cool,” Joe says, getting up from the table. I don’t respond.
Cindy: TELL ME!!!
Cindy: V said you didn’t tell her everything. Y not?
Micah: Just leave it.
Joe walks toward the exit of the café, turns around, and offers me a wave.
I hit the call button on my phone, and it rings once before Micah answers it. “Micah, if you don’t tell me, I’ll just ask Vero to get it out of you. If you didn’t tell her, you must have a reason. I want to know.”
“Cin, you really don’t. I’m getting pissed off again just thinking about it.”
“Micah!”
He lets out a deep sigh on the other end. “You can’t tell Veronica. I don’t want her to know. I told her a little, but not everything.”
I watch as Joe walks down the hallway of the campus. “Fine.”
“You guys went to the bathroom, and first he asked me how I liked dating Veronica. I thought it was weird, but I answered him, telling him it was good. Then he said …” He pauses on the other end. “He told me if I ever get tired of being a chubby chaser, he knows a couple girls he could hook me up with. That he always keeps a couple on the side, and I’d be crazy not to do the same.”
My jaw drops.
“I swear, it took everything in my power to not deck him right there. That’s why I grabbed Veronica and got the hell out of there. That guy is a top-level asshole, Cindy.”
“Oh my God. I can’t believe it.”
“Don’t tell Veronica. You know how she is about her weight.”
“Right. No, of course not.”
Chapter 9
Jackson
It’s the last week of my course. The notes that have been emailed back to me from the instructor have been good. And surprisingly, I’ve found them a little easier to read from when I first started. I wasn’t sure if I was going to sign up for more, but I think I will. I just hope I don’t run into Cindy.
After our argument I was pissed off. Mostly at myself. Her comment about spelling stung, but it only felt like that because I never told her my situation.
It’s true, Cindy never made any remarks about wanting fancy things, and she never even flaunted the nice things she has. But that was the other problem that always stuck with me. Even if I could tell her about the real me, the real me will still never be some well-off doctor like her parents. If I’m being really honest with myself, even from the first time we went out, I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like I could give her the life she’s used to.
“What’s up, Jacks?” Alex’s voice rings out, and I turn around.
Walking over from the line in the coffee shop I’m sitting in, carrying a drink, he approaches the table. “Hey, what’s up, man?”
It’s a small café, only a couple of blocks from the deli. The foot traffic is light, and they play soft music in the background. When I first started the class, I decided to use the store as my study place. If nothing else, the java bean aroma, and easy access to caffeine, has been a plus while I’ve studied.
“Not much,” he answers. “Just grabbing a latte before I start my shift tonight. We’re hosting two different birthday parties at Pizza Castle. I need caffeine in my blood to handle that.”
We exchange laughs and he turns his head, looking down at the table. “I thought you said you weren’t taking classes.”
Quickly, I shut the binder, and then cringe at myself for how suspicious it looks. Glancing back up at him, I watch as he raises an eyebrow, then chuckles. “Or are you a part of a secret hacker group, plotting to overthrow the government?”
I laugh at not only the absurdity of his comment, but also my paranoia. Alex is a cool guy. I might as well just let the cat out of the bag.
“No, I’m not a hacker. And I’m not taking classes. Well, not really.”
“What does that mean?”
Releasing deep breath, I flip the three-ring binder back open. “I’m dyslexic. I’m taking this adult learning course at Community. It’s mostly just a self-motivated thing, but I’m finishing up an assignment I’m turning in tonight.”
I don’t look up for his reaction. Instead, I keep my nose down, staring at the chicken scratch I call writing.
Pulling a chair out, he sits down but stays quiet. After a few more seconds of silence, I finally look up to see his gaze scanning my work.
“I have ADHD,” he says.
“Really? You seem normal.” He laughs out loud. “Shit, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“It’s all good, bro. You seem normal, too.” I nod and start chuckling. “It’s not bad. I was diagnosed early, so I’ve had medications and therapy sessions, some of which I still go to. And I’ve learned some good coping mechanisms over the years.”
“Cool. Yeah, I’ve kind of ignored everything I probably should’ve been doing. My dad has it, too, but I just …” I let out a sigh. For the first time, maybe ever, I hear myself and I don’t want to throw my own pity party. “It sucks.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“So, my friend told me about this class, and I figured it was time to get off of my ass and do something about it. At least, as much as I can.”
“That’s cool. Good on you.”
Knowing he’s dealt with something, even if it’s not the same thing as me, it sends questions through my mind. How he’s dealt with things growing up? Did he block that part of himself away from others like I have? Who in his circle of friends knows?
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot,” he replies.
“Did you ever … When did you let people know?”
Raising his brows, he leans back in his chair. “For me, I guess you could say people always knew. I was called weird and all that crap growing up, and then when my parents took me to the doctor, and I learned what was going on, I kind of just told everyone.” He laughs. “Not because I was trying to own it or anything like that, but I think because I just didn’t know any better. Maybe if I hadn’t been diagnosed until high school it might’ve been different, but I was already in therapy and taking stuff for it by then.”
I nod. Sometimes I wish I would’ve done the same. I knew I struggled with reading and spelling growing up, but I always tried to hide it. Until it became obvious to my parents. By then, I didn’t want anyone to know.
“Why? When did you start letting people know?” he asks.
I
let out an incredulous chuckle to myself. “Uh. Today?” He smirks. “Only a couple of really close friends know. I’ve always wanted to hide it from everyone.”
He nods, then gets up from his chair. “I get it. I better get going. Can I ask you something though?”
“Shoot.” I laugh.
“That girl that you’re obviously not over from the bowling alley?” He smiles, and I nod for him to continue. “You never told her?” I shake my head. “Why not?”
“Well, for starters, she’s super smart.”
“Jacks, you know being dyslexic doesn’t mean you’re not smart.”
“I’ve been told,” I reply, chuckling. “That’s just one of my hang-ups with her. I liked her. A lot. But, you know, sometimes things just don’t work out.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” He takes a drink of his latte. “Is she like that tool she was with? You think she’d think differently of you?”
“Naw.” I shake my head.
“So, you’re just pushing her away for the fun of it.”
Glancing back up at him, I watch as he grins. “Wow, thank you, Mr. Bluntness.”
“Just calling it like I see it.”
“Man, get the hell out of here.” I start laughing.
“Don’t forget, last game of the season coming up,” he calls out, walking over to the exit.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there. I want free pizza.”
“If you break two hundred, you got it. Otherwise, I get a free sub.”
“Deal.”
Chapter 10
Cindy
After talking to Micah, I couldn’t believe it. Well, no, I could. Not that I knew Joe was as sleazy as to tell Micah that about Veronica or talk about hooking up with girls on the side, but he’s always seemed arrogant. Like the kind of guy who is used to getting what he wants. It’s been one of the biggest reasons why in the last couple of weeks I was never anxious to try and go out with him more. Now, I just want to slap him.