The Reason I Stay

by Patty Maximini

  He laughs again, and peels his eyes from the road to glance at me. The emotion filling those breathtaking deep blue eyes stuns me for a second. It’s like he’s kissing me with his gaze, and even though I love to feel his lips on mine, I love this kiss as well.

  His eyes go back to the road. “Yes, being a divorce lawyer makes me sad,” he returns to the subject as suddenly as he’d left it. “It isn’t at all romantic, but I’ve never thought of myself as a romantic, so I never minded much. What really bothers me is dealing with bitter and vengeful people all day. But I’m pretty good at it, and I’ve handled a couple of adoptions, which was fun. But yeah . . . overall it sucks.”

  We both stay in silence for a while. In that time, I think that although he’s never thought of himself that way, I can attest to the fact that he is, in fact, a romantic—maybe not one in the traditional sense, but one nonetheless.

  And then a thought runs through my mind.

  “Do you still work there?”

  He nods. “Yes.”

  I wait for him to connect the dots and explain about his four-month road trip and extended stay in Jolene while still working at his family’s firm, but he doesn’t. He just stares straight ahead, holds my hand, and keeps driving.

  I can’t help to think that if he has a job halfway across the country, and doesn’t really want to talk about it, it may be because he’ll have to go back to it soon. That line of thought gives me an uncomfortable sinking sensation in my gut.

  After a deep breath that does nothing to ease the havoc in my brain, I clear my throat. “How come you’re here, then? Shouldn’t you be working?”

  “Sabbatical,” he replies simply.

  I continue to look at him, waiting and hoping for more information—prerably something to ease my mind regarding the possible brevity of this relationship. Much to my dislike, that information doesn’t come.

  We just stay silent for a while, the humming of cars passing by the only noise in the background. The tense, weird energy emanating from Matt only deepens the nasty feeling at the pit of my stomach that says that whatever he’s not saying may be what forces him back to Seattle, and away from me.

  “Do you know what the best thing about being in a relationship is?” I ask, when the silence becomes too much.

  His lips pull in a side smile as he looks at me from the corner of his eyes. “The things that start to happen on the third date?”

  I laugh, and wink at him. “Well, yeah. But also, that if you ever want to talk about something, anything, you have someone who will listen. You don’t ever have to talk about anything, but you can. Okay?”

  Matt exhales slowly. “I’ll keep it in mind. And so should you.” I look questioningly at him, and earn a raised brow in return. “You’re worried that my sabbatical means I’m leaving soon, aren’t you?”

  Yes, and I hate that you can read me better than I can read you. In protest, I don’t really reply. I just smile at him, but apparently that’s enough of an answer.

  He tightens his fingers around mine. “I’m just too close to a case the firm is working on, and Dennis thought it would be best if I took some time away. But don’t worry. I have no plans of going back, okay?”

  Thank God!

  “Okay.”

  “Does my girlfriend require any other information, or is she good?”

  I can’t deny that although it’s super sappy, I love to hear him call me his girlfriend. I shrug. “Unless you have something important to add, I’m good.”

  An almost imperceptible frown forms on his forehead, and then he shakes his head and smiles at me. “Awesome.”

  We change subjects, and just like that, our getting to know each other conversation that started yesterday comes to an end. Knowing him still doesn’t make the reality that Mathew Ian Rogers, handsome playboy from Seattle, is now my boyfriend any less crazy to me, but it’s a start. And judging by how happy I feel, I’d say getting used to it will be as easy as eating cake.

  As expected, by the time Matt and I enter the gymnasium and meet the Wolfs, Mrs. Crane’s gossip regarding us has spread. We barely have time so say hello before the hugs and questions start. It’s as endearing as it is annoying. Luckily, the mayhem is cut short by the music announcing that the ceremony is about to begin.

  We all take our seats, Matt and mine’s between Eric and a very excited Kodee, who keeps looking at us with this funny smile in her lips. I spend a good portion of the graduates’ entrance wondering what that’s about, and then she calls Matt “godfather” and my face goes beet read. It’s too early for everything that’s happening, and I’m the only one who seems to realize that because even Matt, who should be as mortified as I am, laughs and imitates Marlon Brando as he tells her that if she ever needs a favor, or a horse’s head, she just needs to ask. Obviously, Kodee doesn’t understand the joke, but she laughs anyway, and I have to force my eyes away from them to prevent myself from becoming a puddle of mush.

  I finally spot Tanie walking amongst the black-gowned graduates. I can’t help but think that if life had gone differently, if Leigh hadn’t died, and if I hadn’t felt the need to step up and be a substitute mom for Kodee, I would have been there graduating college today with my best friend, and that would have been a great achievement. It would have been a great life, I’m sure, and I’d be happy.

  However, there would have been no waitressing job at The Jukebox, no house at the beach, no chocolate-chip pancake Fridays, no Sundays at the beach with Kodee, and no Matt. I close my eyes because just thinking about not having those things puts a knot in my throat. I love my job and my house, I love my little traditions, I love that I get to see Kodee grow up, and that I got to meet Matt. And yes, my life is simple, and by some standards unaccomplished, but I’m independent, I have love, and a kind of happiness that doesn’t require anything to sustain it. Despite all odds, I found peace and stood on my own two feet, and if that isn’t reason to be proud of oneself, if that’s not an accomplishment in and of itself, I don’t know what is.

  So although I lack the degree I once envisioned myself having, I can say that I’m perfectly happy with all the choices I’ve made. I’m perfectly happy with the life I chose, the life I’m choosing, and that’s enough for me.

  As with all graduation ceremonies, this one is long and boring as shit. My only distraction is watching Lexie. Her reactions to this borefest are bizarre and endearing. She claps with real enthusiasm, and wipes tears that fall from her eyes as if we’re in a movie theater watching her favorite film. I see that the other women are having the same reaction, which leads me to believe that I’m the most insensitive person in the world.

  Or maybe it’s just that I’m a guy, and when an elbow connects to my right side, I know that’s the case. “Is it just me, or does this feel like pulling teeth to you too?”

  I look at Eric’s heavy lids and slumped back, and chuckle. “Dude, you’re holding a video camera.”

  His eyes go wide as he looks at his hands. “Shit.” He brings the device closer to his face, and in a slightly louder voice, says, “I meant that like I’m so happy and excited to kiss my lovely graduated girlfriend that waiting to do it actually hurts like pulling teeth. I love you, baby.”

  He looks back at me, brows raised. He has “Do you think it’ll work?” plastered on his face.

  I shake my head, and in a low voice, say, “Man, you’re so whipped.”

  Without taking his hands from the camera, Eric extends his middle finger at me and holds it for a long-ass time. I laugh as quietly as I can, which turns out not to be all that quiet, judging by the evil-eye Lexie gives me, and the deathly grip in which she grabs my fingers.

  Sorry, I mouth, bringing her hand up to my lips for a quick kiss that dissipates the evil glare.

  The moment Lexie’s eyes return to the stage and our joined hands are back over my lap, Eric’s voice sounds in my ear again. “And I’m the one who’s whipped. At least we’ve been together for seven years.” It’s my time to give
him the finger, and we both chuckle.

  We go back to being silent and bored for another two long speeches, and then the MC announces that it’s Tanie’s turn at the microphone. Obviously, I’m expecting that generic babbling about new beginnings, all the amazing things the future holds, and how much she’ll miss the good old college days, which will force me to spin some bullshit compliment when I see her. Surprisingly enough, her speech contains none of that. In fact, she talks about all the reasons she’s glad that this part of their lives is over, and how she’s scared to death of what lies ahead. Her words are spirited, funny, and strangely uplifting, and by the end the entire gymnasium—me included—are on their feet clapping.

  When my ass returns to the chair, I look to my left and see Lexie wiping a tear that’s running down her cheek. I hate that she’s crying, even if they’re happy tears, so I kiss the back of her hand once again, which makes her smile at me.

  “Matt,” Eric calls, interrupting Lexie and my moment.

  Reluctantly, I look at him and see wet, red-rimmed eyes behind his glasses. Without a word, I shake my head.

  He sniffs and narrows his eyes. “It’s an eyelash,” he blurts out with a sniff. “Hold the camera so I can get it out.”

  I chuckle, let go of Lexie’s hand, and take the device from him to record the most tortuous part of the night: the distribution of the diplomas.

  Having something to focus on as graduate after graduate is called up on stage is good. It keeps the boredom at a low enough level that I manage to remain quiet all through the As, and halfway through the Bs—which constitutes a total of eleven students. And then it’s too much, so I turn to Eric, and ask, “Do you guys have plans to do anything after?”

  I can see in his eyes the relief that the distraction brings him as well. “Dinner with the family, and then a club with her girlfriends. I know you and Lexie are on a date and all, but the other boyfriends are weird as shit. Y’all should come with us.”

  “Camera,” I say, and his eyes widen and turn toward the device.

  He grabs hold of my wrists, turns my hands and the camera to his face and starts to apologize. An avalanche of compliments and mushy words pour out of him, and he finishes by reminding her that despite what he just said, this is the weekend they’ll get engaged, so she can’t be mad at him. Eric lets go of my hands, and I point the camera back to the stage.

  I shake my head and call him pathetic, teasing him. He teases me back, starting a banter that lasts all through the Gs, when Lexie chuckles. I turn to look at her, and see the teasing raised brow on her face.

  “What’s up?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just deciding if I should be jealous of the bro-mance or not.”

  I laugh sarcastically and she laughs for real, which makes me shove the camera back at Eric and kiss her. “Lingerie, heels, bondage, and no stubby faces, remember?”

  She bites her lip, looks at mine, and nods. I’m tempted to bite her lip as well, but I know I won’t be able to stop if I do, and stupid Eric’s got the camera directed at us, ready to record the show. So I keep my lips to myself this time, and with a wink, I change the subject. “Are we in for dinner and clubbing?”

  Lexie nods. “As long as you dance with me and not with him, I’m game.”

  “Deal.” I turn back at Eric with a big-ass smile. “Yep, we’re going, but I’m not dancing with you. I’m all hers.”

  He shakes his head and makes a whipping sound. I flip him off again, which he gets on camera, making it my turn to apologize to Tanie.

  Even though the lack of V.I.P. status and the simple ambiance of this club is light-years away from my usual scene back home, this is my element, and I should be comfortable. However, despite the music and the dimmed lights, nothing feels like it should.

  For starters, we’ve been at this place for nearly three hours, and I’m stone-cold sober. As the designated driver, I’ve limited myself to one beer every hour to ensure that I won’t put Lexie in danger as we drive home. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to her. However, as prudent as that decision is, it sucks, because I’m tense as all shit, and could definitely use a whiskey or five.

  I’ve never imagined that the simple fact of having a girlfriend would make partying so torturous. Men check Lexie out like she’s made of candy, and I don’t blame them, because I know that she is. Understanding that, however, doesn’t make the brutal jealousy I feel any less excruciating. The only moment I’m completely at peace is when my arms are wrapped around Lexie’s body, but unfortunately that doesn’t happen all too often.

  Tanie demands Lexie’s presence—preferably without me—on the dance floor, while Eric—who doesn’t dance, and is being a girl about being left alone with the weird boyfriends—demands mine at the pool table. I try to focus on playing a good game, but the sight of man after man trying his luck with my girl is killing my concentration.

  “You’ll end up breaking the freaking cue.”

  I look from Eric, to the cue stick, to my white knuckles, and sigh. “Well, it’s either that or his face.”

  Stupid fucking Eric laughs. I glare at him, considering the consequences of breaking the cue on Eric’s head.

  He shakes his head. “You gotta relax, man. She’s turning them all down, and looking at you as she does it. She’s a big girl, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all the fifteen years I’ve known her, it’s that Lexie can handle a douchebag.”

  I roll my eyes, because I know that. She handled me like a pro. Still, that doesn’t make things better. Nothing makes things better, because when I look back at the dance floor where she is, I see that prick—the eleventh one of the night—with his lips dangerously close to her ear, and I want blood.

  I’m aware that my reaction to this situation is incredibly hypocritical. After all, I’ve made an entire social life out of approaching groups of girls at clubs, not caring if they had boyfriends or not, so I should understand that the guy is only trying to get some. But I don’t. I really, truly don’t.

  Lexie shakes her head, says something, and looks at me. Our eyes connect, and for a moment I can breathe normally. And then he tries again, stepping closer to her, and placing a hand on her back. She peels her eyes from me to look at that ass-wipe, and gives him a piece of her mind while she pushes him away. I’ve never been prouder in my life, but he doesn’t move very far, and this shit has got to stop.

  I shove the cue in the hands of one of the other guys and look at Eric. “I’m going over there. You coming?”

  “I don’t dance.”

  I take the cue from his hand, and hand it to another guy. “You just move your body. Stop being a girl.” And I push him toward the dance floor.

  Like a peacock showing his feathers, I puff out my chest and make my way toward Lexie. My eyes shift between her smiling face and Number Eleven, and I cock a brow, hoping each of them see the intent behind the expression. But then she wets her lips, and my focus is all on her.

  I walk a little faster with my heart beating a little stronger, and when I finally reach her, I take her face in both of my hands and kiss her until everything around us disappears. She drapes her hands around my shoulders and we start to dance.

  My hand drifts to her lower back, and I press her against my body. We move as if we’re molding into each other, melting to fit each other’s contours. All the while she kisses me deeper, clutches me tighter, and I fall a little more in like with her.

  “I like you jealous,” she whispers a little against my lips.

  “I like you, period.”

  She kisses me again and we continue to dance, not entirely appropriately, for that matter, but she’s my girl, so who the fuck cares. I don’t leave her side for the rest of the night, and her hands don’t leave me. I finally get to relax and enjoy the night.

  The brightening sky announces that it’s nearly dawn when I carry a sleeping Lexie inside her house. I’m exhausted beyond measure, and for that reason pay no attention to the insi
de of her home beyond the path I should walk to find her bedroom. All I register is that her house is small, smells like cinnamon and feels like her. It feels like home.

  Her bedroom is pretty: light green walls, white furniture, and a huge window facing the ocean. I walk to the bed, where a black cat—which is ugly as all hell—and a three legged tan dog—which manages to be even uglier than the cat—nest together on the left-hand side. I can’t help but smile at them, at the fact that they could only belong to someone as good as Lexie.

  I lay her down on the empty half of the bed, and remove a few locks of hair that have fallen over her face. Unsure of if it’s because of how tired I am, or that she’s so pretty it actually hurts, or the fact that she’s my first girlfriend, or because today was the very best day of my life, I give her a quick peck on the lips and whisper, “I don’t think I just like you anymore.”

  And as if she actually heard me, she smiles.

  Light fills my bedroom when I open my eyes the next day. I have absolutely no recollection of how I got here, and the heavy pounding inside my head is a pretty good indication that drinking too much last night is the reason why.

  Not only do I hate being hung over, I also hate that I completely blacked out at the end of our date. A date that was perfect, and hot, and made me seriously consider breaking all my dating rules and ending the night naked with Matt. I close my eyes again, and drape a hand over my eyes. I groan in frustration, which makes my parched throat ache.

  I swing my feet off the bed, remove my dress, and replace it with a more comfortable ensemble of tank top and shorts. After a pit stop at the bathroom to brush the stale taste from my mouth, I make my way to the living room. A breath gets caught in my throat at the sight of my very tall boyfriend sleeping in his jeans and boots on my tiny couch. My normally very grumpy cat snoozes on his naked chest, while my dog lies on the floor beside his left foot. It’s seriously the cutest and seemingly most uncomfortable thing I’ve seen.