Dewey Belong Together

by Smartypants Romance

  “Elaine!” I said sharply. “Considering I’m in love with this girl, and she may be your future sister-in-law, never refer to her as a booty call again, okay?”

  “Fair. But I'm serious, Jonathan. You need to lock that down, in the non-psycho way. And if you don't know how, start by being a friend to her. Be there for her. Listen to her. Look, these rules are as old as the freaking wheel, dude. Show her you care by stepping up when she needs someone." Elaine sipped at her perpetual mug of green tea, and I let out a loud sigh and scrubbed one hand through my hair. She was right, these were obvious things to do, under normal circumstances anyway.

  “And the fact that she said she hated me?”

  “That was before the weekend and the sex fest. Her feelings might have changed. Maybe she was confused over how she felt about you. You said it yourself, you've been a fixture in her life for ten years. If she genuinely hated you, she would have found a way to cut you out before this. No one puts up with their archnemesis that long. I’m freaking serious. Think about it. If you hated someone, would you put up with them for ten damn years? Would you invite them to your hometown? Not a chance on earth. I think it’s possible, Jonathan, that you’ve found a woman who knows herself even less than you know yourself.”

  And there she goes, spouting off truths mixed in with sweeping philosophical statements designed to make her sound smart. And they worked, dammit.

  “What do you mean, I don’t know myself?” I asked, annoyance creeping over me. There was always a lemon to suck on with Elaine, despite her being an excellent person to talk over problems with.

  “Jonathan, you have had a question mark over your head about your sexuality since you were seventeen. I get the ‘no labels’ approach, I do. But I know you. You need a label so you can understand it now that you’re Team Maxine. Personally, I think you’re pansexual. The way you described it to me once, that you think a person’s heart and mind and soul are more important than what body they’re in? That’s it. And there is no shame in it, you hear me? None.” She pointed her finger at the screen, like she was going to shake it at me.

  “Okay, you don’t need to read me the riot act. I got it. I’m pansexual, and not ashamed. I also feel that it’s irrelevant now because of Maxine. I’m not looking for anyone else. But thank you. What else you got to throw at me?”

  “You’ve had a fair bit of trouble managing your bipolar disorder in the past few years. Hell, ever since your diagnosis. There’s always some kind of mess that happens, usually with your meds. And you have to move from crisis to crisis, and it makes you a real jerk sometimes. I’m not blaming you for that. But you’ve lacked the peace and stability that you could find if you would do things like meditate more, increase your mindfulness practice, and avoid situations that will set you off. Obviously, this game is one of them because she thought you were an asshole, and you are anything but. Now, I know you’re not going to stop gaming, especially since it’s where you get to hang out with Maxine, but please talk to Tom about the other stuff. This shit gets results.”

  I knew this was important to her because she was using the puppy eyes she whipped out whenever she wanted something very badly. And this time, what she wanted was for me to be healthy. Well, so did I. I was sick of being sick with a manageable disorder. I also had to come clean with Maxine. I’d painted too rosy a picture of my condition with her on Medieval Day. I had wanted to share with her, but without scaring her off. No more secrets, and no more lies—there had been enough of those between us.

  “Mindfulness. Meditation. Medication. Truth. Got it.”

  “I hope you do and aren’t just humoring me.”

  “Elaine! You know me. I’m not going to dick around when it’s something this serious. If these are the barriers between Max and me, you better damn well believe I’m going to break them down, one by one.”

  We chatted about Elaine for a bit, her telling me about her eccentric friends and workplace. She was happy in Chicago, and I wouldn’t wish any other life for her. I begged off the call, saying it was getting late and that I needed to call Tom as soon as possible, which was true. I had no sooner called Tom and left a message on his phone to schedule an appointment when I heard a familiar truck pull into the driveway. Norman, back again. What the heck did he want?

  Chapter 18

  Maxine

  “This may be a game, but these are my people. This guild is my tribe.”

  ― Maximus_Damage

  The first thing I did when I woke up was grab my tablet, as usual, to check for any pressing email from work or issues with the guild I needed to deal with. I was surprised to get an email from Jonathan at my public guild address, until I remembered that we’d never exchanged private emails. Clever.

  * * *

  From: Jonathan Owen

  To: Maximus_Damage

  Subject: animal wrangling

  * * *

  Max:

  Last night, Norman dragged me to one of those two-bit honky-tonks out in the sticks that you are aware I’m so fond of. Here’s a photo of me on the mechanical bull. I stayed on for six seconds, which I felt left my manhood intact. (Literally, I had to feel around afterward to make sure my manhood was intact). Norman kept throwing single women at me, presumably to lift my spirits, when he doesn’t know that you’re the one I’m crazy about.

  I was thinking about your position with the guild and your big reveal. I’m so proud of you that you made that choice. Think about how proud of yourself you will feel once it's done. Think of all the girls you can be a role model for, after you’ve explained why you’ve been silent until now. You have a chance to use Maximus_Damage’s reputation to do some good in the world. And if people hate it, screw them. You’ve never had a problem riding the moral high road, have you?

  * * *

  Hugs,

  Jonathan

  * * *

  There was indeed a photo of him on the mechanical bull attached, and I burst out laughing at the expression on his face. After attending to some guild business, I logged into my personal email and fired back a reply.

  * * *

  From: Max Peters

  To: Jonathan Owen

  Subject: Penguins

  * * *

  Jonathan:

  I've given a lot of thought to what you said about my revelation to the guild and the example I could set with Maximus, as well as the light I could shine on in-game harassment, if that becomes an issue. I'm going to do it on Wednesday night—I've asked to be the raid leader for the first few fights using voice chat. We'll see how it goes, and your butt had better be there, so sign up for the raid now, okay? I wouldn't want you to miss my debut.

  Now, I'm going to cuddle some more in bed wearing your favorite pair of my pajamas, the flannel penguins. Am I a fashion icon or what? By the way, nice pic. I especially liked how it looked like you were about to piss your pants.

  * * *

  Cheers,

  Maxi-Pad

  * * *

  From: Jonathan Owen

  To: Max Peters

  Subject: pride

  * * *

  Max:

  That's fantastic news! I signed up for the raid—just a couple of more days now. I'm proud of you, you know. I know you're doing all the work, but I will be your cheering section, always.

  * * *

  Cheers (literally),

  Jonathan

  * * *

  I closed out my email and lay there with a big, wide smile on my face. My alarm wasn’t due to go off for another twenty minutes, so I had the luxury of lying in bed and stretching, which felt so good after the last few days of intense physical activity. Not that I was complaining, given the nature of most of the activity. I felt like part of me was rejuvenated, and my spirit felt lighter.

  I ran through the day in my head. Work from nine to fou
r, a quick stop at the liquor store to buy some wine—in a bottle, no less—then book club tonight at seven.

  Now that several of my colleagues knew I was a total geek after Medieval Day, there would be no more holding back. No more hiding behind ankle-length corduroy skirts and cardigans that swallowed me whole. Part of me thought my wardrobe wasn’t that big of a deal, but I knew that hiding every possible aspect of who I am was all tied to the attack. I needed to make real peace with what happened at long last and not be Mousy Maxine anymore—and not just for one magical weekend. I decided to toss off my duvet and climb out of bed early, turning off my alarm and yawning wide.

  First, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed my boss, our head librarian, Thuy Nguyen. I told her I needed to take a mental health day, despite having taken Thursday and Friday off. I assured her it was important, and she honored my request. I then texted the book club group chat and asked everyone if they could reschedule for tomorrow night. My next call was to my old therapist to schedule an appointment. Last, I dialed the sheriff’s department.

  Jackson James, a sheriff's deputy I'd gone to high school with, sat across from me in a conference room. I blew on some truly atrocious coffee and waited for him to finish perusing my file. Not that there was much to peruse. Other than photographs of my injuries and an original fudged incident report, that was it. I took in the sights and smell of the building my father had spent so much time in. In that moment, I missed him so much I had to fight down my tears, and my throat tightened.

  “So Maxine—er, Miss Peters, sorry—why don’t you walk me through it one more time, now that we’re sitting down and I’m all caught up.”

  I took in a deep breath and clasped my hands around the disposable coffee cup, the warmth giving me comfort.

  “I lied, ten years ago. When I said I didn’t see their faces, I mean. Everything else I said was the truth. I was stuck out in the sticks near the old Samuelson place struggling to change my tire, and these two guys on bikes pulled in behind me. They were wearing the patch of the Iron Wraiths. The first guy offers to help me, and I was in a jam, so I said yes. I should have sent them away and called for a tow, but I didn’t know … Anyway, it was going okay. We were even cracking jokes. Then the second guy starts freaking out while he’s got the iron in his hand and charges me. The first guy tried to pull him off. He kept cursing and yelling at the other guy to stop, but it was like the guy with the tire iron was possessed. I think he was on something. I mean, why else would he act that way?” I shuddered and pulled my hoodie tighter around me and zipped it up as if it were a suit of armor. I wasn’t enjoying this trip down memory lane by any stretch of the imagination, but it was long past necessary.

  “I have to say, Miss Peters, I’m surprised to see you here after all this time. Do you think your attacker recognized you in connection to your father? He was a well-known and damn good cop. Maybe there was bad blood between him and the Wraiths, even beyond the obvious of him being in law enforcement.”

  I thought about that possibility and dismissed it, as I had a decade ago. “No, there was no recognition on his face, just rage. He was like, tweaked out or something, I’m sure of it. I don’t know how he had the coordination to ride his bike on these roads. Anyway, after the first guy pulled him off me, they both got on their bikes and took off, and I was found by another passerby not too much later.” I sighed and drank a gulp of sludge in my coffee cup, making a face. “At the time, I was too scared to identify the men. I justified it to myself by thinking that the one guy had tried to save me and that if they wanted me dead, or raped, they would have done it, and that a bit of a beating wasn’t so bad. But if I'd pressed charges, maybe the Wraiths would have come back to finish the job or hurt my mother. They weren’t known for being kind to their enemies.”

  Jackson pulled a frown. “It looks like you got more than a bit of a beating, Miss Peters. What happened to you was a serious assault. Now, I know you didn’t come here without doing some research first, and I’m sure you’re aware that the statute of limitations on assault has passed I could talk to the district attorney, but honestly—”

  “No, Jackson—Deputy James—thank you, but no. I wanted to correct the record of what happened to me and put my attacker’s description on file. Maybe it can help build a case against him for something else if he’s found, I don’t know. I don’t know much about this process at all, which I know you’ll find hard to believe, my daddy having been a sheriff's deputy. But Mom wanted that part of him, his job, to not impact us as a family, so he left that at the door every night.”

  Jackson let out a puff of breath and nodded his head. “Okay then, I’ll take down their descriptions, if you are comfortable giving them to me.”

  Pen poised above the page, Jackson waited for me to recall the faces which so often haunted my dreams. Describing them was like a time warp, except instead of a jump to the left, it was a jump ten years back. To feeling alone and vulnerable and useless as I had curled into myself, hoping to block the worst of the blows.

  I remembered my manners enough to shake Jackson’s hand when we were done, with Jackson reminding me that Mom and I were welcome to come by the station anytime to socialize. We hadn’t been forgotten by the department, and the receptionist wanted a full breakdown of how Mom and I were doing. As the receptionist excitedly chattered, I had a sudden memory of being four and coming with my dad to work one day because Mom had an appointment. I drew pictures with pencil on lined paper, one for everyone in the department, and my father’s eyes shone with pride as we handed them out.

  The next thing I knew, I was sitting in my Jeep crying my eyes out, wishing Jonathan were here to wrap his arms around me, and for me to breathe in his delicious smell. I tried to remember what my therapist had told me about managing my anxiety with regard to the attack, and I calmed my breathing, glad that I had booked a new appointment with her. I blew my nose into a tissue, then carefully made my way home in silence. I swear my ribs ached where I’d taken the worst swing of the tire iron all those years ago. There was something cathartic about talking to Jackson and then having a good cry, and I decided to share what I’d done with Jonathan as soon as I got inside.

  * * *

  From: Max Peters

  To: Jonathan Owen

  Subject: The Fuzz

  * * *

  Jonathan:

  Today I played hooky from work and took one small step for Max, one giant leap for Max-kind. I went to the sheriff's station and gave a description of the scuzzbag who attacked me, and of his friend. The statute of limitations is over, but I at least feel like I did something that had been weighing on me for a long time. You ever feel that way? Like there are things in the world that are just hankering for you to finally acknowledge them or accomplish them? And when you do, you hear in your mind a soft little, “Oh, there you are!” like something is telling you that you did right, you did good?

  Anyway, the faces of those men are in my file, and maybe someday that can help someone else. I don’t know. I do know it’s done, and I want to put it behind me. Perhaps with a ritualistic burning of every corduroy skirt I own.

  * * *

  Cheers,

  Max

  * * *

  As I hit send, I felt a sense of accomplishment and peace settle over me. Catra jumped up on my computer desk and meowed loudly, reminding me it was feeding time at the zoo. I got up and smiled as I moved to the laundry room to feed the beasts.

  * * *

  From: Jonathan Owen

  To: Max Peters

  Subject: wow

  * * *

  Max:

  That’s amazing news! I mean, I know it won’t result in those guys paying for their crime against you, but you never know where your actions today might lead. At the very least, you know that you’ve done everything you can, and screw it that it was on your timeline and not someone else’s. You did wha
t you needed to do for you, back then and today. I’m so damn proud of you.

  Hey, I saw on the guild forums that there’s a senior officer’s meeting tonight. Are you going? As yourself, I mean? I’ll be online if you need support or someone to rage at ;) Now, on the subject of these atrocious skirts I have heard so much about but never saw in person: don’t you dare try to light up a bonfire on your own. Flame on with friends.

  * * *

  Jonathan

  * * *

  I grinned and closed out my email and decided to kill the next few hours until the officer’s meeting on my PS4 with some Kingdom Hearts III. Technically, I could have still held book club, but I wasn’t feeling too social after my day at the station. I think I needed some time to let what happened seep in, to accept that it was over, before I leapt right into entertaining.