Someone Like Me

by Unknown

  He looks…like before. Handsome. Time isn’t going to change that.

  “I’m so sorry. I heard about Jack,” he says as he stands in the doorway wearing a pair of black dress pants and a white collared shirt.

  “How?”

  “Jazzmyne told me when I asked if I could try coming back here tonight. I was here yesterday, but I think you already knew that,” he says, stepping into my dressing room slowly.

  “I did. What do you want, Michael?”

  “You. Us. All of what we had. I want it all back, Mýa. I know I don’t deserve it. I know I don’t deserve you, and I know my timing is horrible, but I had to come and tell you how I felt before I lost the courage to do so.”

  He moves further inside my dressing room and I feel as if all of the air has been sucked out of the space between us, until all that’s left are memories of the past.

  “I waited for you, Michael. I waited for you for months.”

  He closes the door and leans up against the wall next to it. “I know you did.”

  “Did you get my letter?”

  “I did, and the ring.”

  I can see sadness in his eyes, so I have to ask, “Did you open the letter?”

  He nods.

  “When did you open it?”

  He rubs his head and sheepishly looks down at the floor. “I read it the day I got it.”

  Anger rises up from my toes as I turn back around and stare at him through the mirror. “What did you do with it?” I ask before turning around again.

  “I threw it in the trash.”

  My hand slams down on my table, making it shake. “Get out!” I say as the rage in my bones flares up inside me.

  He doesn’t move. “Look, you have to understand where I was coming from and where I had been. Things went pretty dark after that night. I—”

  “You hated me?” I search his face for confirmation, but I already know the answer. “And now you, what? Love me again? Is this how this goes?”

  “I didn’t stop loving you, Mýa. I just needed time to allow the love I felt for you to help me push past the—”

  “Hate?”

  He pushes off of the wall and stands in front of me. We stare at each other in silence until he reaches out and tries to take my hand. I pull away and he heaves a disappointed sigh.

  “I was hurting, but I didn’t hate you.”

  “I can’t do this with you, Michael,” I say, looking anywhere but at him.

  “Mýa, please,” he says as he kneels down in front of me.

  “I’m with someone else.”

  He drops his head for a second and takes a deep breath. “I know. I saw the white dude,” he says as he looks back up at me.

  “The white dude? What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask as my body tenses up and I automatically get upset by his reference to Matt’s skin color.

  He shrugs his shoulders. “Nothing. Forget I said that. It’s just the jealousy in me talking. It meant nothing, really. I’m sorry. I came to Jazzmyne’s a couple of Sundays ago and saw him sitting with Jack and Mary, so I didn’t stay.” I feel my body relax some until he adds, “Do you love him?”

  “I do.”

  “As much as you loved me?”

  I take a deep breath. “This is not a competition, Michael.”

  “How can you say it’s not?” he asks as he stands back up.

  I stand, too. “Michael, you’re too late.”

  “Prove it.” He pulls me to him and presses his lips against mine. At first I don’t respond, but when I feel his hands on the small of my back, all of the memories of us when we were together come rushing back to me, and my lips move with his. He pulls back just far enough to look into my eyes. “Tell me you don’t still love me?”

  “It’s not that simple,” I say, disentangling myself from him and already regretting that I even allowed that kiss to happen.

  “You kissed me back, Mýa. I could feel the love you have for me inside you as I held you in my arms.”

  “I need you to leave, Michael, and I need you to do so now.”

  “I’m not giving up on us. I mean it. I was a fool to let you go.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls the ring out. “This ring belongs on your hand and you belong to me.” He places the ring on my table. “Love endures, remember? That’s what you said in your letter.”

  Before I can protest, he kisses my cheek, then turns around and leaves.

  How am I going to explain this to Matt?

  I pick the ring up and put it in my purse.

  Chapter Sixty-two

  Mary and I sit on the sofa as Matt prepares dinner in the kitchen. “Did I see Michael at your show last night?” Mary whispers. I nod. “Why was he there?”

  I look at her with tears in my eyes, and I can tell that she immediately understands without my having to say a word.

  “I see,” she says as she takes my hand into her own.

  “We kissed,” I say hesitantly.

  Her eyebrow arches. “Oh.”

  “It was…a mistake. It was all a mistake,” I say.

  “So what are you going to do? I assume he wants you back.”

  “He does. Do you think Matt saw him?”

  “He doesn’t know what Michael looks like.”

  “True.” I lean my head back against the sofa and let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know how I’m going to handle this,” I say, wiping the tears away.

  “What do you mean? It comes down to which one you truly love.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know. Michael had asked me to marry him, and I said yes because I loved him with all my heart and wanted to spend my life with him.”

  “And how do you feel about Matt?”

  “You know how you have that perfect pair of jeans?” I ask, sitting up again.

  “I think I know where you’re going with this, but yes.”

  “You just love them because they fit you like no other pair of jeans can. It’s like they were made just for you. That’s how I feel about Matt. He’s like my favorite pair of jeans.” I sigh again. “This is so complicated.”

  “It’s not complicated, Mýa.”

  “Okay, so tell me how to uncomplicate it,” I ask, eager for her to just tell me how to fix everything and get back to normal.

  “You be honest with yourself. Twenty years from now, when you’re sitting at the dining room table of your home, which one will still be able to make you laugh? Which one will still make you feel like a giggling little girl? That’s the one you give your heart to, and you do so because you know they will never give it back or do it any harm.”

  “When you look at it like that, it does uncomplicate the situation. Thank you, Mary.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, as Jack would have said, let’s go eat. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

  Chapter Sixty-three

  Mary and I stand in front of the burial site, and I take a moment to look around at everyone who loved Jack before we watch them lower his coffin into the ground. Michael and David are standing in the back of the crowd, but I can still see both of them. Searching all the other faces that stand before me, my eyes fill with even more tears. I smile when I catch sight of Jazzmyne, Margaret, and the entire band from work.

  Mary doesn’t seem to see anything else as she stares at Jack’s coffin, and I see the fingers of her right hand resting protectively on top of her wedding ring.

  She was right. Over forty years is not enough.

  The wind blows softly as each family member says a few words, including Matt. When he speaks about how important it is to forgive, how vital it is to not let time and hurt keep you from the ones you love—from family—I can’t help but cry some more. My heart reaches out to him as he speaks about how he wishes he had come home sooner, rather than waiting for trying circumstances
to give him a nudge in the right direction. I want to hug him as he ends his speech by saying how happy he is that he and Jack forgave each other, and how he will never forget the things that Jack taught him growing up.

  “Jack was not just my uncle. He was the greatest chef I ever knew because, like everything else Jack did, he cooked from the heart,” he concludes, then walks over to Mary and hugs her.

  It’s my turn and I can barely do what Mary wants me to—sing. I feel tears raging down my face the moment I open my mouth.

  Matt walks over and whispers in my ear, “I’m right here.”

  I inhale and draw strength from the fact that he’s there, standing beside me.

  “This is so hard for me,” I finally say, exhaling as I look down into Jack’s grave. “As many of you know, Jack was more than my friend. He was the father that I never had. We fought because he would never allow me to forget that I had something to offer the world. Jack pushed me to do things I never thought I could. He wanted me to become the person he saw inside me. Jack believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. He used to tell me all the time that I can’t believe in love until I believe in myself. And he was right. Jack was always right. Sorry, Mary.” I look over and see her nod with a small smile. “Jack loved to hear me sing. One of the songs that I would sing at our Sunday night dinners was ‘Feeling Good’ by Nina Simone. It was his favorite. Today, I sing it for him because that’s how much I love him. I will do anything—anything—for Jack.”

  Food is everywhere, and people who didn’t come to the burial stop by to pay their respects. Even Caroline Thomas—Jack’s first love—stands in a corner with her black husband at her side. As I study her from the sofa, I can’t help but think about how Mary is so much more of a real woman than she could ever be. It comforts my aching heart to know that Jack married his true love.

  Matt walks over and sits beside me as I watch Mary smile through tears. “How are you doing?” he asks.

  “Better than I thought I would. I think seeing so many people here that knew Jack is helping. It’s like getting a chance to share their memories of him. Does that make sense?”

  “It does.” He places a light kiss on my cheek. “I love you, Mýa.”

  “I love you, too, Matt.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” I say.

  He smiles and then runs his hand through his hair.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Why do you think something is wrong?”

  I reach out and weave my fingers into his. “Because you always run your hands through your hair when you’re nervous or anxious about something.”

  “No I don’t.” I give him the side-eye until he deflates a little. “Okay, maybe I do.”

  “So tell me what it is,” I say.

  “I saw Michael at the burial. Mary introduced us while you were talking with his friend.” He pauses for a second before looking me in the eyes. “He wants you back, doesn’t he?”

  “Matt,” I say, looking around to see if anyone is listening to us.

  He reaches up to run his hand through his hair again, but then stops and places it in his lap instead. “I know this is not the time or the place to talk about it, but I would like for us to do so sooner rather than later. Can you come to my place tomorrow?”

  I agree, and he squeezes my hand before he goes off to find Mary.

  Chapter Sixty-four

  Matt is sitting in front of the window as I walk into the main room of his place. My heart begins to pound as I put my coat on the hook and move to the sofa, taking a seat beside him.

  “Hi,” I say.

  The love he has for me is easy to find in his eyes as he turns his gaze toward me.

  “Hi,” he says. “You want a glass of wine?”

  “No, thanks.”

  The crackle of the fire that he has going is the only sound to penetrate our silence. Each of us seems to be trying to find the right words to start the conversation that looms over us.

  “I don’t want to lose you, Mýa.” He reaches for my hand, but I can’t give it to him. Not yet, anyway.

  “Michael and I kissed,” I admit.

  He stands up and runs his hands through his hair, but doesn’t say anything. I search his face, looking for anything that tells me that I haven’t lost him.

  “I didn’t want to hide it from you,” I say when the silence becomes too much for me to bear any longer.

  “When?” he finally asks.

  “He came into my dressing room on Sunday after the show.” I stand up and go to him, hoping he’ll hear me out. “I didn’t want it to happen, and I hate that I allowed it. I’m really sorry, Matt.”

  “Are you still in love with him?”

  I move so I can stand in front of him, rise up on my toes, and gently pull him closer until his lips almost meet mine.

  “I don’t want to kiss you until I know the answer to my question, Mýa. I need to hear it, regardless of what it is. My heart deserves it,” he whispers.

  “You’re right. It does,” I say, pulling back. I grab his hand and lead him back to the sofa.

  “I told Mary that Michael and I kissed.” I see the pain behind his eyes, but I know that I have to keep going. He needs to hear everything. “Mary didn’t scold me. Instead, she offered me some advice, the kind of advice that Jack would have given me, too.”

  “What advice was that?” he asks.

  “She told me to be honest with myself, and encouraged me to look twenty years from now, when I’m sitting at my own dining room table. She told me to ask myself who will be sitting there with me. Who will be the person that still makes me feel like a giggling little girl? That’s the one she said that I should give my heart to because that’s the one that will never give it back or do it any harm.” I reach over and touch his hair. “I saw you, Matt. I’m in love with you, not Michael.”

  “Then marry me,” he says.

  We move closer, until space no longer exists between us. He meets my lips halfway, and when his touch mine, my heart says yes.

  Still, I know he wants to hear the words fall off the tip of my tongue, so I say, “Yes, Matt, I will marry you.”

  We lock our fingers together and allow the moonlight that enters through the big bay window to dance in our eyes.

  Chapter Sixty-five

  May 24, 1995

  As I stand in front of the hair salon, I can’t stop thinking about how it used to be Mr. Johnson’s gas station. The fateful night that took place here hasn’t left my memories, but I feel the forgiveness that I’ve given myself in my bones, and it makes me smile—something I have never felt I could do any other time I’ve found myself standing in this spot.

  I feel someone tap me on the shoulder, and I turn around to find Michael and Jenna staring back at me. I can’t help but notice that they are holding hands.

  “Hi,” Michael says.

  “I’ll go wait in the car,” Jenna says to him.

  We watch her make her way down the sidewalk, then I turn to Michael and say, “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

  “Me either, but Jenna thought it would be good for me.” He looks back to see if she’s in the car yet.

  “She’s right,” I say. “You two look happy together.”

  “We just started dating,” he says, allowing his gaze to drift to me again.

  “Good. I’m happy for you. I really am.”

  “You look beautiful, Mýa. But then again, you always did.” When his eyes begin to travel up my body, I place my left hand on my purse and put my ring on display. He notices and asks, “When is the wedding?”

  “Next month,” I say.

  “It’s a nice ring. Not bigger than the one I gave you, though.”

  It takes all of my self-control not to reach out and bring my hand across his face. Instead, I grit out, �
�This is the ring that Jack proposed to Mary with.”

  “I’m sorry. That was unkind of me to say.”

  I give him a feeble smile, but I know deep inside that he doesn’t mean his apology at all. “Can’t you just be happy for me?”

  “I was happy when we were together. I still want that,” he says, stepping closer to me.

  “You are with Jenna, and I am marrying Matt,” I say firmly.

  “Does he know we kissed that night in your dressing room?”

  “He knows. In fact, I told him, we worked it out, and then he proposed that same night,” I say as I move back, putting space between us. I look over at Jenna and see the worried look on her face.

  “So you’re saying he’s a better man than I am?” Michael asks, staring into my eyes like he’s daring me to prove his suspicions right.

  But I can only say what he should see—the truth.

  “I’m saying he’s the better man for me and the man that I’m going to marry. Let’s not do this, Michael.”

  “Why not? I’m still in love with you.”

  “I’m not still in love with you, Michael. I’m in love with Matt, and I gave my heart to him. My whole heart.”

  Anger flickers in his eyes. “Why can’t you give me another chance? I feel like I’m being punished for something that you did.”

  I shake my head. “There it is.”

  “What are you talking about?” Michael asks.

  “You still haven’t forgiven me.”

  “That’s why you’re marrying some other guy? Can’t my being in love with you be enough for now? You wrote in your letter that it should be, remember?”

  I inhale the warm spring air to give my insides time to calm down. “How is David?” I ask, hoping to move the conversation to something else, something neutral. But as his jaw tightens, I know that he’s not going to let it go.

  “I guess love doesn’t endure, does it, Mýa? And now you’re trying to end our conversation.”

  “I just think that it’s better that we talk about something else.”