by Lisa Shelby
“Have a seat and we’ll order you a drink as soon as the server comes by again.”
“Thank you,” I say as I take a seat.
“So, you work with Olivia? She said you were beautiful, but she really didn’t do you justice.”
Feeling a bit uncomfortable after his compliment I reply, “Thank you. Yes, we’ve worked together for a year or two. How do you know her again? She said you had some mutual friends.”
“Yes, I used to date a friend of hers, but I stayed friends with her boyfriend Bryce after the break up.”
“Oh, how long has it been since you’ve been out of relationship?” Seems like a good place to start since he’s talking about a break up, right? Oh God, I so don’t know how to date.
“It’s been about a year and a half. She was the love of my life and she left me for somebody else. She moved to the other side of the country to be with him. I still can’t figure out what happened…” And just like that we spend an entire meal talking about his ex and everything that went wrong and what he could have done differently. Thank goodness we managed to order food and I now have my flatbread pizza to entertain me.
Once we’re finished eating he realizes his mistake. “Oh, shit! I just spent our entire meal talking about my ex. You must think I am such a loser.”
“Nah, it’s no problem. We all have our stuff.”
I guess that is one great thing about Mick. He may have lots of no name one night stands but there are no exes to speak of. Nobody he’s loved and who has broken his heart. Why didn’t I ever see it that way?
But yes, Keegan, I do think you are a bit of a loser.
“Well, thanks but let’s order dessert and you can tell me about yourself.”
I don’t want to be rude but there is nothing here. I don’t want to waste any more time. I know what it feels like when there is a connection and it’s not here at this table.
“You know, I am stuffed and don’t think I have room for dessert. Thank you for the offer though.”
“No problem. Let me pay the bill and we can get out of here.”
He heads to the bar to get our bill from our bartender/server. He must be on the same page as me because he didn’t seem too upset that I wanted to cut things short.
What a relief. I would love to just bail and run out the door while he’s not looking but that would be rude, so I wait. A few quick minutes later and he’s back.
He stands next to the table and extends his hand to help me out of the booth. After I’m out though he doesn’t let go of my hand. He just re-adjusts his hold and holds my hand as he heads to the exit.
Once outside in the cold January air he smiles and with a flirty lift of his brow he says, “So, your place or mine?”
What the hell? What did I miss?
Trying to get out of this without causing a scene I reply. “Thanks for dinner, Keegan. It was great to meet you. My car is over two blocks so I’m just gonna head that way.”
Clearly not getting it he says, “Cool, my car is that way too. I’ll walk you to yours and I can follow you to your place.” He grabs my hand and my mind is racing. I am not big for causing a scene but I really need to do something to make myself clear. My mind is scrambling to find the right words to let him down easily. Oh God, I hate dating!
We’re already to my car when I finally say, “Thanks again, Keegan, but I think I’m gonna call it a night.”
“It’s only 9:30, Alex. The night is young and I’m sure we can find a way to pass the time.” He pushes my hair behind my ear and I flinch. Where is this coming from? I haven’t given him any indication that I wanted to go there. I mean, seriously? Didn’t he just talk about his ex the entire meal? What is wrong with this guy?
“Keegan, I really do need to call it a night. I did have a good time though and it was really nice to meet you.”
Just as I reach for my car’s door handle he pushes me against the car and leans in to kiss me. I try to push back on him, but he just keeps pressing into me. “Keegan, no! I’m not interested.”
“Oh, come on, Alex. We could both use some fun. Don’t tell me you don’t hook up. A girl as hot as you? I have a hard time believing that.” Now’s he leaning in and I have both of my hands on his chest trying to push him away.
“Believe it! Now, get the fuck off of me, asshole!”
He lifts his hands and takes a step back. “Wow, what a prick tease. I guess that’s an hour and a half of my life I’ll never get back.”
I ignore him and get in the car as he turns to walk away. I can’t help it when I yell after him. “I guess we know why your girlfriend left you for somebody else! You’re a dick! Please lose my number!”
I don’t wait for his reply. I start the car, lock the doors and pull my car away from the curb so fast that the tires squeal.
Whoa…did I just do that?
Did I just tell him off?
Since when did I have it in me to tell somebody off? Especially, a man!
I am so proud of myself!
I feel like celebrating!
Of course, the person that I want to call to brag about my sudden growth of lady balls isn’t speaking to me. During dinner all I thought about was Mick. I know it’s only one date, but this one crappy date makes me realize what I’m missing. Or rather, who I’m missing.
I have a man in my life that makes me happy. He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel sexy and smart and he wants to be with me. What is wrong with me? I know he wanted space and I’ve given him a week. It’s time for me to put it all out there just like he has. It’s time to put my new lady balls to work. Time to stop being scared of being hurt and give Mick a chance. By giving him a chance I might just be giving myself a chance. A chance at happiness.
I turn my car in the direction of Happy Valley and am beside myself with excitement. I’m doing it! I’m gonna take a risk and go for it! I blast my music and sing along to every song that comes on during my thirty-minute drive to Mick’s house. I should be planning my ‘please give me another chance’ speech, but I’m too happy and excited to think straight right now.
When I turn down his street, I lower the music and start to prep myself for what I’ll say when he answers the door. I pull into the driveway and check myself in the mirror. I add some gloss and fluff my hair, and then me and my lady balls open the car door and try our damnedest not to skip up to his front door.
I take the first two steps up his front porch and see the light coming out of the front window. I take a look in the window as I take the third step and I can’t move. I feel cold. I feel sick. I feel like every feeling I had on the way here was a lie. My world starts to slowly crumble around me. But brick by brick the wall around my heart starts to rebuild itself right here on the spot.
When I feel the first tear fall, I quietly turn back down the steps and I race to my car. I can’t get out of here fast enough. How could I have been so stupid? All this time, I knew what I was doing when I said that I wanted to just be friends. I should always go with my gut.
After my confrontation with Keegan, and then the poor decision that lead me to Mick’s front steps, I feel dirty. I need a shower. I crash through the front door, slam it shut and lock it behind me. I rip my clothes off and leave a trail behind me as I sprint to the bathroom and throw the shower on. I spend the next thirty minutes under the scalding hot water trying to erase the vision that is now burned into my eyes.
In a haze, I manage to put on a t-shirt and throw myself in bed. I will not shed anymore tears. My mask is back in place and I think I agree with Mick about needing space. I need a lot of space. Like years of space.
I finally fall asleep with visions of a couch. A couch that has a shirtless Mick on top of an equally topless blond. I fall asleep feeling empty and alone.
Again.
Mick
“I’m sorry, Melissa. I’m just not feeling it tonight.”
“It’s Jessica! What do you mean you’re not feeling it?” she says sitting up grabbing her bra and shirt
off of the floor and covering herself.
Fuck! What was I thinking?
Pulling my shirt over my head and getting dressed I say, “Sorry, Jessica. I really shouldn’t have brought you here tonight.”
“Really, well that would have been nice to know before you had me on your couch with your hands all over me and my boob in your mouth.”
“To be honest, I was using you to try to get over somebody else, but I’m just not ready. Sorry to be so harsh, but it’s the truth.”
“Wow, my first impression was right. You really are a dick, Mickey Jacobs!”
She’s right. I am a dick. I used her and it’s not cool.
“I’m really sorry, I know this was messed up. You have every right to be pissed.”
“Whatever. Just drive me back to my car.”
After a silent drive back to the bar, she jumps out of the truck, calls me a dick again and slams the truck door. Normally, I would freak out on anybody that treated my truck like that, but I barely register it. My mind is on Alex and the fact that she had a date tonight. That’s the only reason Jessica was at my house. I was pissed and thought if Alex could do it, so could I.
When Emily told me that Alex had a date tonight, I lost it. I know I said that I wanted some space, but what the fuck? I tried to act like I didn’t care, but Emily saw right through me. She told me that she thought she was trying to get over me and trying to move on.
“Em, I didn’t want her to get over me. I just needed some space so that I could be around her without wanting more. God, Em. I know she’s your friend, and I’m sure you hate this, but she’s the one, sis.”
Emily pulls me into a hug. “Mick, do you really think you can be with just her? Can you commit to a relationship? Alex has been through too much and I can’t let her knowingly get hurt. She’s a good girl, Mick. If you aren’t 100% sure that you can be faithful, then you need to let her move on.”
“Damn, Em. You must really think I’m a piece of shit.”
I start pacing the room. I feel like a two-year-old about to throw a God damned tantrum. Pacing helps bring me down a notch. Right now, I need to be brought way the hell down.
“Not at all, big brother. You’ve just always said that you could never commit to one woman. That’s always been your ‘thing’.”
“I know, you’re right. It’s my fault but I’m done with that life. I want the real thing and I want it with Alex. Why is that so hard for everybody believe?”
“Well, talk to her. It’s been a week since your party. Don’t call her tonight because she’ll know I told you about her date, but talk to her. It’s just a first date tonight. You know Alex, she’s not the type of girl who’s gonna go sleep with some random guy on the first date.”
I’m done wearing the carpet down. I can’t stay here. I think I might just go crazy if I spend another second in this house. Hearing her name in the same sentence that even refers to her sleeping with somebody else makes me sick.
“Sorry, Em but I gotta get out of here. Thanks for the talk. I’ll see you later.”
I hear her shout after me. “Call her tomorrow, Mick!”
I don’t reply. I jump in my truck, and as though she’s on autopilot she drives me right to my beloved Kells.
Once my ass is on the bar stool in front of Riley I have one goal in mind.
Get laid!
It’s been months and the one woman I want is out on a fucking date with somebody else. Besides, we’re ‘just friends’ so I guess I could have done this weeks or months ago. How could I have been so stupid to think that I wanted more?
That’s not me.
This is me.
After a couple of hours my ass is starting to go numb from sitting on this damn stool. The night hasn’t gone quite how I expected but just as I think maybe I’ll head home, I feel a pair of breasts on my back and feel somebody breathing into my ear.
“Hey Mick, how’s it going?”
Shit, it’s that blond that called me a dick last time I saw her.
“Hey, how’s it going…”
“Jessica, my name’s Jessica.”
“Nice to see you again, Jessica.”
And just like that she was practically in my lap the rest of the night. We made out in the bathroom and then she was ready and willing to take off to my place. She’s a real class act. It may be wrong on many levels, but if this is what it takes to get over Alex, then so be it. Classless blondes never stopped me in the past, why should they now?
Now, here I am pulling into my driveway alone and it’s only 11:00.
I wonder if Alex is home yet.
I wonder if she had a good time on her date.
I wonder what the hell I’m going to do.
I want to drive over there right now, but the thought of seeing her with somebody else makes me sick to my stomach.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Make It Rain
Alex
February
Standing here in the drizzle of Portland rain, I feel nothing.
I am void of emotion.
I know that I should be feeling something. Pain. Sadness. Relief. Grief. At the very least, cold from this wet frigid weather. But I haven’t felt anything all day. Instead, I’ve been playing the role of the doting daughter to my grief-stricken mother. I’ve got my black dress on and my mask is firmly in place. I know that I should be feeling something…but I don’t.
From the moment my mother called me frantic and sobbing to tell me that my father had passed away I’ve been on autopilot. It turns out my father had a stroke in his sleep, and he never woke up. I don’t really feel much about that fact.
When she told me what had happened, I could tell that it bothered her that I was simply matter of fact about the news. She kept asking me if I was okay, and I almost thought about turning on the waterworks to make her feel better, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t fake the emotions this time. I know she wishes that I loved my dad just a little bit more, but in the end…in the end I think she gets it. To be honest I can’t understand how she can feel so much loss for a man that treated her like his personal punching bag for decades, and who hasn’t really been around for years now.
Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m a horrible person. Should I forget the past and mourn the father I wish he had been? Am I supposed to forgive him for the years of abuse? I know that everybody expects me to be devastated like my mother, but I can’t bring myself to pretend anymore. I still have the need to make everybody around me happy, but since I shared my truth with those closest to me on Christmas, I don’t feel the need quite so strongly. Even though my mask is on, so that pretenses are kept, I can’t bring myself to conjure up tears or to feel distressed over his loss.
I was so relieved when my Aunt Lena arrived. I couldn’t get out of my mom’s fast enough. I needed to distract myself from the underlying guilt that was brewing deep down inside. I needed to stay busy. I took over the arrangements for the memorial, wrote his obituary and went that afternoon to clean out his room at the care facility.
When I checked in at the front desk, all of the women told me how sorry they were for my loss and asked if I needed help with anything. I accepted their condolences and politely refused their offers of assistance and made my way to the elevator that took me to what was left of my father.
He was my father. Never my dad.
He was not the dad who would sing you a song or read you a story before bed. He didn’t attend any school performances and he didn’t do all of those things that daddies that are wrapped around their little girls’ fingers would do. He didn’t tell me he loved me and he never bounced me on his knee or tickled me until I couldn’t breathe. He didn’t really talk to me much or acknowledge me in anything but a formal manner. I learned at a very young age to stay out of his way and to follow his orders precisely. Do what he said, when he said it, and to his liking and everything would be okay. Make a mistake and the world came to a crashing halt. At least my mom’s world did.
&
nbsp; I will always have guilt for the times he took his anger out on her because I had done something to disappoint him. I will never forget the weight on my chest as I would cower in bed and listen to him tell her what a horrible mother she was and that she hadn’t taught me a thing. That I wasn’t going to amount to anything in this world, and it would be her fault. He provided for me and it was her job to teach me how to grow up to be a respectable woman. I was a kid. Kids make mistakes. There will always be a part of me that hates him for putting all of that on my mom and for not letting me be a kid.
His emotional abuse was just as bad as the physical abuse at times. When my father was around my Mom lacked confidence, and was a quiet and meek woman. When it was just she and I, she was a different person. We would sing and dance and we would always find something to laugh at. When I got older we loved to watch all the formulaic romantic comedies we could. We would laugh, we would cry, and most importantly we got to be ourselves. I got to see that strong, proud side of my mother. The woman who knew her own mind and had her own opinions. The woman that would sit and talk with me for hours on end about her childhood, her life before meeting my dad and her first love in high school. She gave me pieces of wisdom and taught me how to have respect for myself. God, she was an amazing woman in those moments!
Only once, during one of our all-night conversations, did she talk about the abuse that my father inflicted on her. That night she confided that her example of marriage wasn’t what she wanted for me. That she hoped that I would never fall in love with a man that treated me with anything less than the utmost respect and with love and tenderness. She followed that up by saying we can’t always control who we fall in love with, and that even though my father wasn’t always all of those things, she knew the man deep down inside and she couldn’t help but love him. She told me how sorry she was but that she simply could not, and would not, leave him.
I lived for my father’s business trips, hunting trips, fishing trips…any trip that would take him out of the house and as far away as humanly possible. Luckily for us this happened at least once a month. It was all about him and we never went anywhere with him.