Messy Love

by Stephanie Witter

  It was one thing to antagonize someone and conjure them up in your mind as an evil creature after they’ve hurt your feelings so bad you didn’t know what to do with yourself and how to deal with the new turns your life took. But when that same “evil’’ creature apologized in that broken way he had of opening up… It was a game changer, and somehow that same person haunted you even more than they had previously.

  “I think it’s perfectly clean now,’’ Sophie butted in, leaning above the tattoo machine with an amused smile on her mouth. Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses, emphasizing how she found my confusion so very entertaining.

  I grunted and gripped the cleaning supplies tighter in my hands. I went to the supply closet in the farthest corner and deposited everything without a care before closing the door with enough strength to attract Jade and Kam’s attention. And the radio played louder than usual.

  “You okay?’’ Jade asked. My eyes latched onto her bright blonde dreadlocks in a bun on top of her head. Her elfin like face conveyed her curiosity, something that had been following me ever since they’ve all discovered that I had met my biological mother thanks to Sophie who was in a sharing mood one night when Jade invited us all for a few drinks at her new place.

  “Yeah, yeah,’’ I mumbled and ignored Kam's inquisitive look, knowing that he kept a closer eye on me than anybody else since I was the one more likely to mess up a tatt since I hadn't finished my apprenticeship yet. Ha, as if I’d mess up a tatt. I pushed everything else away once I had a tattoo machine between my hands. The sound and buzzing sensation always helped.

  “I didn’t mean to piss you off,’’ Sophie whispered once I joined her at the front desk and leaned against the counter while she fixed the laptop screen as if it held all the answers in the universe.

  “You didn’t, Soph,’’ I said and glanced over my shoulder to make sure Kam and Jade were back at work. Then, I smiled ruefully at my friend who was now watching me. She pushed her glasses up her small nose. “I’m tired. I barely slept last night because of… him.’’

  She rolled her chair closer to the desk and sat straighter. “No wonder. Wyatt is something alright.’’

  “He’s an ass, and he has that thing…’’ I trailed off and shook my head. “Anyway, he apologized. It’s over now.’’

  She snorted and reached over to pat my hand on top of the counter next to flyers advertising local gigs and a club opening. “This is far from over. Come on, Mar. You can’t tell me that last look he gave you when he apologized didn’t do something to you. You looked like you were ready to follow after him!’’

  “I didn’t.’’ My denial came out so fast it ended up sounding everything but truthful.

  “Right,’’ she singsonged, grating my nerves so much I balled one of the flyers without noticing until she pried my fingers open and took the ball of paper to throw it in the bin under her desk. “Don’t get me wrong. To me, Wyatt is still an asshole who doesn’t deserve a smidgen of your attention, but he’s in your head. Between him and everything else you have going on, you have to make a choice.’’

  “Make a choice?’’ I laughed humorlessly and pushed back from the counter. “The choice is all made, Soph. Wyatt needs to stay out of my life.’’

  “Okay, but he won’t be out of your life unless he’s out of your head. That’s all I’m saying.’’

  On that, the door opened on a pint-sized college girl who looked everything like the kind who would pick something straight from one of our catalogs without asking much or any alterations at all. I bet the tatt was the result of a bad breakup or a dare with someone. At least she didn’t look drunk.

  “Marissa?’’ Kam called me right when Sophie greeted the new client. “Your turn.’’

  And just like that Wyatt took a backseat as a broad smile spread all over my face. For now, I had a respite, but Sophie was right.

  I needed to do something and leaving the final words to that guy wouldn’t do.

  ***

  WYATT

  I threw the menus from the places I usually ordered in back in the kitchen drawer and rubbed at my face.

  My hangover had long been gone since I took a disgusting smoothie this morning at the gym and sweated off the alcohol while coaching a few clients, but that was without the nagging feeling I had inside, festering and eating away at me. That, and the fact that my boss told me I was at the risk of getting my hours cut in half since I didn’t have enough clients and the gym was suffering from a new gym opening that offered all of that new stuff like hardcore yoga, Zumba, and other trendy shit. I couldn't have my hours cut if I wanted to keep on paying my bills just when I chose to update the apartment.

  Everything was going to shit.

  My cell beeped with a new text on the kitchen counter next to the empty Gatorade bottle. With a sigh, I snatched it, ready to ignore whoever it was until the name registered. Marissa.

  Blinking, I unlocked my phone.

  Are you at your place? - Marissa

  Yes. Why? Where are you? - Wyatt

  I’m at your door. - Marissa

  Just when her text came through she knocked on my door. I slowly put my phone back on the kitchen counter next to the empty Gatorade bottle and then stared at the front door.

  I was trapped.

  She knew I was home and I knew she was on the other side of that damn door.

  I didn’t like to be trapped, to be robbed of the possibility to lead the dance and do my own thing when I wanted. I was on her timetable and not mine which also meant I had no idea where it would go.

  I was at her mercy, and while I undoubtedly deserved it, it didn’t sit well with me. Instantly, my palms sweated, and my heart sped up. A small voice, pathetic and coming from my past, begged me to get her to leave, to protect myself from more troubles, but the adult man in me pushed me to take those steps, reach the front door and open it.

  And here she was.

  “I need to say something, so you better keep your mouth shut,’’ she blurted before I had the time to take her in and open my mouth.

  I nodded and leaned against the door, gritting my teeth to stop myself from saying something when her harsh tone caused me to want to even things out by lashing out. My defensive default setting had me in a twist where Marissa was concerned.

  “Good,’’ she went on and hiked her big leather brown purse higher on her shoulder covered by nothing more than her InkSpired t-shirt. “You can’t open your mouth when you feel like it, apologize like you did last night and turn around before I could say something. You can’t make my life a living hell, polluting my damn brain and hope that I’ll be okay with an ‘I’m sorry’ and some new way of showing me how torn up you are. Life doesn’t work like that. I don’t work like that.’’

  Her narrowed eyes pierced me, burying deeper and deeper to uncover that part of myself I dreaded, that part that used to make me hope for better as a kid. A part I pushed away and barely unlocked when around my adoptive family. A part I didn’t want to admit I was afraid of losing because of the woman standing in front of me, all sexy and rightfully so pissed at me.

  “What do you want me to say then?’’ I asked gruffly, eyes now downcast because everything was better than to be subjected to her antagonism towards me. Anything was better than to be faced with a good person showing you how bad you were.

  “Nothing, that’s my point.’’

  “What?’’ I frowned and stared into her beautiful eyes, eyes that haunted me day and night, eyes that reminded me of my adoptive mother and the pain I caused Marissa. Those eyes were my personal hell and kept on drawing me closer.

  “We’re nothing more to each other than a one-night stand gone wrong. All of this is fucked up, and I don’t want a part in it. I have my own life, and I can’t let you derail me. It started because you wanted me away from your family and especially from Lydia and I’ll stay away because I can’t live my life and worry about what will happen next with you.’’

  “You went out of your wa
y to tell me this.’’

  “Not for you, but for myself.’’ She pointed at her left temple then. “You’re there, Wyatt. I don’t know how you did it, but you’re fucking there, and I need you out.’’ She tapped with the tips of her fingers against the side of her head before she dropped her hand to her side. “I accept your apology because I honestly believe my presence troubled you and I can understand it, but I will never accept the way you’ve treated me.’’

  She took a step back, and her shoulders lost their apparent stiffness then, but her words hardened me, hitting me square in the chest to make me want to double over and hope that stupid pain would go. Instead, I took two steps out of my apartment and invaded her personal space.

  She appeared so fragile in front of me, thin and yet strong. Not once she looked away. Not once she backed down. Not once she ever let me scare her away.

  “I’m a fucked up man, and you should have never let me in your head to begin with.’’

  “Believe me, you’re not going to stay any longer,’’ she retorted, eyes narrowed and voice even. She stepped away from me and turned around to go back to the elevator. As soon as she pressed the button, it opened, and she hurried inside.

  I watched her until the elevator closed its door and took her away from me and out of my life. I watched because it was impossible not to. I watched because in spite of myself, in spite of what anybody’s common sense yelled, I was mesmerized by her and shook up by what she was able to conjure up inside me.

  And then, I went back to my apartment and grabbed the first thing I could find and threw it across the living room until it hit the opposite wall and shattered. I just destroyed a crooked pot Ava made at her first pottery lesson.

  I fell to my ass, pulled my legs up and put my head on my thighs, breathing louder and louder as my whole body started to shake. I shook with self-loathing, with anger, with pain. Mostly, I shook with a pain I had never been able to shake off.

  I destroyed everything.

  WYATT

  “Son,’’ Danny Burton, my adoptive father and the only one who deserved to be called Dad, beckoned me, drawing my attention back to the present. I kept on daydreaming while looking at an old baseball in my gloved hand.

  I looked up and found my father waiting expectantly with his gloved hand ready to receive the baseball.

  It was our thing. Neither of us was huge baseball fans since we preferred football and basketball, but whenever we had a family lunch for as far as I could remember since I had met him, we would end up throwing the ball while talking about some things. It was nice, but right now I wasn’t feeling it.

  “Sorry,’’ I mumbled and threw the ball without much conviction. It sailed way above him and rolled into one of my mom’s flower bed. I cringed. “Shit.’’

  My father took off his glove and shook his head, a smile on his face as he glanced back at me after eyeing the flower bed with reluctance. “You know what? I don’t feel like getting my ass kicked by your mother. If she sees us traipsing in her flowers, she’s going to ring our ears.’’

  “She’ll see the ball tonight when she waters the flowers,’’ I pointed out and gave him my glove.

  “I’ll get it before then. Let’s have a seat.’’ He led me to the outdoor table and chairs and put down the gloves on the table. As he leaned back, he exhaled loudly.

  “You look tired, Dad.’’

  He chuckled and rubbed his eyes. The circles under them would have been worrying if I hadn’t seen them whenever he was on a case at work that demanded long hours and called for a lot of stress. Being a cop was nothing like what was shown on most TV series as he pointed out frequently whenever he talked about his job.

  “I had a long day yesterday. We closed a case around midnight, in the nick of time before the man’s custody was over. Then we had all the paperwork to fill.’’ He yawned and waved it off. “I’m not getting any younger, and I can’t pull off late nights like I used to.’’

  Ava’s laughter rang from somewhere inside the house and Mom’s voice accompanied the happy sound that chased away some of the dark fog surrounding me.

  “I told myself I wouldn’t ask you, but…’’ Dad said and scratched at his skull where his short hair freshly cut showed more and more gray than the light brown he used to have.

  “What is it?’’

  “I’m worried about your mother.’’

  “What’s wrong?’’ Fear clogged at me instantly.

  “Maybe I’m way over my head, but she’s a lot more subdued since… well, since…’’ he trailed off, looking for his words apparently and it didn’t take a genius what brought that change in Mom.

  Fists tightly closed I answered. “Since Marissa Thornton came here.’’

  He nodded and sighed again, glancing at the house before fixing me with his clear blue eyes that had been a steady fixture in my life ever since I was thirteen years old. “I’m sure it’s a difficult subject for you too and—''

  “It’s okay, just tell me what’s wrong with Mom.’’

  “She looks sad, and I think she’s worried she won’t hear from her again. She doesn’t talk to me, son.’’

  Once again, his eyes went to the house. I hadn’t seen him quite like this since his father, my grandfather who gave me his apartment in inheritance, passed away a couple of years ago.

  “What do you want me to do?’’

  “Ah,’’ he sighed and ran a hand over his scruff, something he rarely kept on since he always shaved closely, but whenever his work ran him hard he would spend a day or two without shaving. “I just want to make sure it went okay when she came to see Lydia. Lydia called me at work that day, and she was emotional. But you know your mom. She’s quick to keep things to herself when she doesn’t want others to judge.’’

  “I know.’’ The memory of that first moment I had seen Marissa in front of the house hit me and the way that had made me feel. It was still as fresh as yesterday, mostly because I was stuck in a loop where she was concerned. “I wasn’t in the same room the whole time, but it looked like it went okay.’’

  “Lydia mentioned that Marissa hit it off with Ralph. Do you think he’s been in contact with her?’’

  “You’re playing cop or what?’’

  He laughed and closed his eyes briefly. “I’ve been a cop a long time. I can’t shake off some habits.’’ He stared at me a moment without speaking, and I remembered him doing exactly that whenever he wanted to get to the bottom of something. Unfortunately, as good as I was being closed off, I still couldn’t hide shit from him when he had it in his head that I knew something he wanted to be privy. “It’s not like you to evade. Well, it’s not like you to evade unless there’s something you don’t want to say.’’

  “Dad…’’ I breathed and crossed my arms, knowing that it would tell him that he was onto me.

  “Don’t bullshit me, Wyatt. It’s important.’’

  “I know it is!’’ I blurted and jumped to my feet. I paced in front of the table under the watchful eyes of my father who knew me well enough to be aware that I needed a moment to gather my thoughts. “I don’t think Marissa will contact Mom anytime soon.’’

  “What did you do?’’

  It never failed to hurt like a fucking gunshot when your adoptive father, a man you consider one of the best men, immediately assumed that you fucked up. He was right, of course, but it hurt like hell that he didn’t doubt one second that I did something wrong. He knew me too well to give me the benefit of the doubt.

  “For what it’s worth, she has a great family, and she only wanted answers.’’

  “Wyatt.’’ He stood up, and while my father was a couple of inches shorter than me, he still held the kind of authority I fought as a teenager but had always respected deep down. “If you don’t want to tell me what you did, it’s fine, but you better find a way to mend things. It’s not about me or you or Ava. It’s about your mother and her past. You should know better than anyone what kind of damages a past can do to s
omeone.’’

  Flashes of the past assaulted me, knocking the wind out of me.

  “I’ll see what I can do,’’ I answered, but my voice reached my ears as if I was underwater. The sounds distorted, pushed me further into the past. I heard myself cry in the night. I heard his curses. I heard other voices. Mostly, I felt the emotions from back then, and it ruined me.

  “Wyatt.’’ Hands touched my shoulders, the touch nothing like the kind from that past. Slowly, my sight cleared and my adoptive father’s face came into focus. “I’m sorry, son.’’

  “You said nothing wrong,’’ I whispered. My voice, gone, was barely audible. I took a step back, pulling away from the comforting touch, from the reminder that my past was in the past. “I’ll make sure Marissa calls mom.’’

  “Thank you.’’

  “Yeah,’’ I said and nodded. “I better go. I don’t want to be stuck in traffic.’’

  We both knew it was a bullshit excuse, but he let me go with it.

  ***

  MARISSA

  “Marissa,’’ Jade’s head popped through the door of the small office at InkSpired, forcing me to look up from a wicked design of flowers woven through a gilded cage for a new client. Kam agreed to let me work on the first draft of the design and check with the customer in a couple of days to see what she thoughts. I was getting close to finishing my apprenticeship, and that couldn’t come too soon.

  “What’s up?’’

  “There’s the guy you tattooed a few weeks ago out front. Remember the one with the blonde faux-hawk?’’

  “He’s here?’’ I frowned at her nod. My grip on the red pencil tightened. “Is he alone?’’

  “Yeah. Why?’’

  “Forget it,’’ I said and stood up. “Thanks, Jade.’’

  “Don’t mention it. I just finished the tat on the big whining dude. I need a break now. The bigger and scarier looking, the whinier they are.’’

  I chuckled and left her to the coffee machine and the prime coffee.