by Sasha Hibbs
After being transferred to two different people, giving them the location where I was, the make and model of my car, I was promised someone would be dispatched to change my tire in the next half hour. I wanted to be anywhere but stuck in my car waiting for help to arrive. Where would I go? I couldn’t leave my car and risk missing the roadside assistance. It was nighttime and not a good idea to be walking alongside the roads in Morgantown. So I hunkered down in my car as I watched people trickle into theirs and the parking lot empty out. The other cars at least camouflaged mine, but now they were pulling out, leaving my car in the wide open.
Twenty minutes had passed. I held my breath, waiting for my help. I just wanted to get out of there, get back to my dorm, and fall asleep without any dreams. I wanted to block Mickey from my mind forever. I was embarrassed that he’d seen me here and couldn’t understand why he was wearing the gloves I had made for him. I wished I could go back to that student lounge and restart that evening. I would’ve never came. Why did I have to see his name in print? As an avalanche of “what ifs” ran rampant through my mind, I jerked at the light rapping against my window.
My heart sank to my stomach as I looked up into Mickey’s gaze. I couldn’t read his face. I quickly turned away. He tapped against my window again. I couldn’t ignore him. The only thing separating the boy I’d tried so hard to get over, the one I hadn’t seen in months, was a thin sheet of glass.
My hand shook as I pressed the button to roll down my window. I quickly balled my hand up into a fist in an attempt to conceal the tremor rolling through me.
“Autumn,” he said, his voice coming out in a soft whisper.
I didn’t want to look at him, the embarrassment of him finding me this way was too much, but there was no avoiding it now. I was trapped.
“Hello, Mickey,” I said, willing my voice to comply with the composure I needed. I was a mess inside, but I looked up at him with calm indifference.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, leaning to one side.
“A bunch of us from the college were supposed to meet up here. Their idea. I didn’t know you were here … that you were fighting … I came late and couldn’t find them, decided to leave, and now I’m waiting on roadside assistance,” I said, rambling like an idiot.
Mickey flicked his gaze to my flat tire and then back to me. “I can change your tire.”
“I don’t need your help,” I said in a clipped tone.
He crouched down, level with my gaze.
“We need to talk,” he said, his voice coming out in a breathy whisper.
It was so hard to be this close and not reach out to touch him. I forgot what it was like to look into his gaze from this distance, feeling so small as he used to tower over me. I had to remain poised, not let him know he had any effect on me. He certainly hadn’t extended the same courtesy to me as evidenced by all my calls and messages going ignored. Not once had he came by, called, texted … anything. It was as if he didn’t exist anymore. But I knew that wasn’t true. He did exist. Our relationship didn’t. Like it meant nothing to him. He’d ripped my heart out, and I didn’t want him to see the scars he left behind.
“I have nothing to say to you,” I said.
“Autumn, please talk to me. There’re things I have to say, things I need you to hear—”
I saw a pair of headlights turning into the parking lot that belonged to a flatbed truck. I opened my car door, pushing him out of the way as I stepped out.
“There’s my assistance now. It was nice seeing you, but I need to take care of this. Good luck with whatever it is you’re doing. Professional boxing, is it?”
“Please, Autumn,” he said, backing up and giving me room. “Give me a chance to explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain, Mickey. We’ve both moved on. I’m in college like I always wanted, and you’re doing something … productive, it looks like,” I said, hoping my last words stung him. I at least wanted to live up to his expectations that I would sting him in the end.
The driver pulled up beside me, hanging his head out the window. “Autumn Chamberlain?”
“That’d be me. I’m so glad you’re here,” I said giving the mechanic a smile. I turned to Mickey. “Excuse me.”
I turned my back on him, pretending to get something out of the car. I couldn’t keep this façade up much longer.
“For what it’s worth, I’m thankful I got to see my girl tonight,” he said.
“You don’t get to call me that. I’m not your girl,” I said, my back still turned. “I don’t need you here and I’m sorry I came. I wish I had never seen you at all.”
I heard his footsteps behind me until they faded in the distance. My eyes burned with tears.
“It’s the front left tire,” I said to the mechanic, keeping my head down to hide the tears as I pointed out the flat tire.
Chapter Fifty
I waited until I knew my parents would be back from church before driving home. I’d contemplated not coming at all. I felt so lost. All these weeks of shoveling my way through the heartache losing Mickey caused went down the drain once I saw him again. I told myself seeing him would finally put him out of my mind, but all it did was drag up all those moments that made me fall in love with him in the first place. I was haunted by his touch, his beautiful mind, all the pretty promises he made me that I actually believed. It all came flooding back. I wanted him to be in the world somewhere, okay, making it. But there was something that tore through me, hurt me, to see that he’d moved on without me so completely, was doing really well for himself. I couldn’t believe that he’d ever sincerely cared for me at all. I felt foolish, weak, and heartbroken. I knew before going in, telling his mom and uncles the long-harbored secrets he confided in me about would hurt him. And I understood his initial reaction to what I did. But I held out hope that he would’ve forgiven me, that if one loved someone the way he told me he did, he would’ve in time been able to move past what he perceived as a betrayal. When he hadn’t, the reality that my feelings were stronger than his, nearly broke me.
If I could make it to winter break, maybe I’d take Jay up on his offer to visit him. I wanted to run away and hide. Everything reminded me of Mickey. He was everywhere, and I hated myself for not being able to purge him from my system. I kept replaying over and over in my mind the words of advice our therapist gave me. She told me often in my kind of situation that I would never really get over the hurt, I would somehow manage to adjust and live with it.
As I drove past the gates leading up to our driveway, I nearly crashed into my parents’ mailbox. Parked alongside the curb was a shiny chrome motorcycle. I parked behind it, and with some hesitation, went inside. I heard voices trailing from the dining room. I quietly shut the door and concentrated on the voices. I recognized my parents’ voice, but refused to believe the other one mingled in with theirs. Why had he come? What was he doing in my house?
I swallowed my nerves and walked into the dining room. My parents sat beside each other with Mickey facing them. They looked up as I walked in. My mom had a slender hand resting on top of my father’s. I didn’t detect any hostility in their faces, but couldn’t fathom why they would have welcomed him into our home.
I flicked my gaze to a bundle of red roses resting in Mickey’s lap. He stood up slowly as though he was gauging how best to approach me. He held the roses up and said, “These are for you.”
“Roses?” I said, as though after everything we’d been through, roses could suffice as a peace offering. I wasn’t interested. “Why are you here?”
His lips parted as though to speak, but my mom shot up from her seat. “Autumn, come with me so we can get a nice vase of water for these beautiful roses.”
She moved around the table and gently grabbed my arm, dragging me behind her. We went into the kitchen. She took a vase from a cabinet.
“Why is he here, Mom?”
“I think he should be the one to tell you,�
� she said, turning back to me with a glass vase in her hands. “If there’s something I’ve learned in these past months it’s that you have to face your worst fears so they don’t hold any power over you. I think one of yours was losing Mickey. You’ve already went through that and are stronger for it. I’ve also learned to forgive others and forgive myself. It’s time you do the same.”
I thought about all the nights she came into my room and soothed me as I cried myself to sleep over the boy in our dining room. My mom knew how shattered Mickey’s desertion left me. I couldn’t imagine what kind of damage control Mickey had done with my parents that would sway their opinion enough to not only talk civilly with him, but to allow him into our home and make my mother encourage me to hear him out. I wasn’t ready to set aside all the pain his absence inflicted on me just yet, but my curiosity was piqued.
I collected myself, harnessing my anger and imbedded pain, and walked back out into the dining room. My mother was arranging the roses in the vase as my dad stood up. “Your mother and I are going out for some late lunch. I’d ask you both to join us, but I think our absence is needed.”
I was beyond stunned when my parents walked out and left me alone with Mickey. In our house. Mickey and I stared at each other as an avalanche of emotions rolled over his face. I didn’t know what they meant, couldn’t trust myself to read him anymore. I broke the silence.
“Why did you come here? What do you want?”
“One answer for both questions,” he said, his gaze saddened. “You.”
I answered him slowly, taking my time to keep my voice in check. “I have nothing left to offer you. You’ve already taken anything I had to give.”
“I’m not asking anything from you, Autumn, but the chance to hear me out. Please take a ride with me. I promise if you want to leave, I’ll bring you right back,” he said, stepping closer.
I stepped back. I couldn’t think with him this close. For weeks upon weeks I wanted to hear his voice, see his face, know that he was okay. I prayed that one day he could forgive me. I even held out hope we’d get back together. I went through every emotion a human is capable of having, but now I was left with resentment. I knew it wasn’t healthy and I didn’t want to feel that way. Mary was right. Time did help ease the hurt, but what could overcome bitterness and pride? If nothing else, he owed me an explanation.
“Okay.”
A look of relief flashed in this gaze. “Grab your jacket.”
Once we were outside beside his bike, he leaned down and retrieved a small helmet. He moved in close to me, secured the helmet on my head, and gently clicked the strap across my chin. I kept my gaze lowered while he did this. He straddled his bike, turned to me, and patted the seat behind him.
I slung my leg across the back and slowly circled my arms around his waist as he kicked the bike into gear. As we drove across town and hit the interstate, I realized that regardless of what he wanted to tell me, what lay on his side of the truth, there was no way we could ever be friends. As I buried my face into the soft leather of his jacket to protect my face from the wind, I knew the only thing I wanted from Mickey was him. All of him. It had to be all or nothing. I couldn’t risk bumping into him, seeing him with another girl, and pretend it wouldn’t bother me. I didn’t have that kind of restraint.
As we drove to our destination, I took the time to take him in. I could feel his hard stomach through his t-shirt. I could faintly smell that cologne I’d tried so many times to remember since the last time we were together. I craned my head to where he couldn’t see me observing him, but I looked at his hands gripping the handle bars and thought how beautiful they looked with his rolling veins, his fingertips capable of such tenderness, his fists capable of inflicting pain. I couldn’t wait to be off the bike. It was hard to be clinging onto him like this and know he wasn’t mine.
We hit Route 33 and drove for around twenty minutes before he pulled down into Arden State Park. I felt my eyebrows form questioning lines as he drifted the bike into an idle stop. Once he kicked the stand down, I slid myself off his bike and took my helmet off. Of all the places in the world, why would he ever want to come back here? I remembered all too well the effects this place had on him the day of his birthday. I died a little inside thinking of that fateful day. So many things happened. None of them I regretted except for hurting him.
He gracefully dismounted his bike and removed his helmet, sitting it down across the seat. “Follow me.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, the memory of our last time here branded in my mind.
“I’m sure,” he said with a kind of calm I’d never witnessed in him before.
I followed him down the path of windy rhododendrons that eventually opened up to the bank of the river. He stared at its currents for long moments before sitting down along the bank. “Sit with me?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur.
I lowered myself beside him, but at arm’s length. We sat there in silence for several minutes just listening to the soft lull of the trees groaning against the wind, watching the water roll downstream.
“Autumn, I don’t expect you to forgive me, to understand why I’ve kept my distance, but I’m going to try my best to explain it to you and hope that you’ll come to forgive me,” he said, his gaze still focused on the river that cost him his childhood.
I never spoke. I continued on in silence, trying to even out my breaths and portray no emotion.
“I’ve spent the larger part of my life being angry and resentful. I always felt like I was on the outside looking in on something I could never have. It didn’t matter what it was … a new house, a better car for my mom, name-brand shoes for Jimmy so kids his age wouldn’t pick on him. We’ve lived a hard life. We’ve never gone hungry and my mama has given us more love than anyone could ever buy, but growing up without my dad and being on the poor side of town, I had to get hard, had to fight my way through growing up with the thought always hanging over my head that if my dad hadn’t died, life would’ve been so much different for us. The hardest part was living with the belief it was all my fault. I still struggle with that, but I’m getting better,” he said, his voice becoming shaky.
I reached out slowly and intertwined my fingers through his. Once he felt my touch, he held my hand in a tight grip like he couldn’t believe I was with him, would run away from him any minute if he didn’t hold onto me. It didn’t hurt, but felt like I was keeping him grounded. I could feel his hand trembling, in return my heart ached for him, for us both. I knew he was swimming through murky water. We never looked at each other. We sat there lost in the moment, the both of us trying to swim above water, unsure if we were ready.
“It wasn’t right for me to be angry with you for telling my mom about the fighting, all the problems I grew up with. I always felt so alone I didn’t know how to cope with help.”
I finally found the courage to look at him. “Where have you been? Why did you ignore all my calls?” I said, trying to keep the passion of all I felt in my voice down to a minimum.
“I was angry at first, but for all the wrong reasons. You did nothing wrong, Autumn, and I hope one day you’ll forgive me. I figured that part out a few weeks after the match with Leo. I was so ashamed of myself when I thought back on us, how I treated you, pressured you—”
“Pressured me? You never pressured me,” I said, cutting him off.
“Yes, I did,” he said, drawing my hand into his lap, opening my palm up, drawing feathery light circles against it.
“You regret that we lost our virginity? That we—”
“Never,” he answered. “I regret how it came about. It should’ve been something special and at the right time. It was the most I’ve ever let someone in, and it was selfish of me to allow my emotions to get in the way of what I should’ve done … I owed you more than that.”
I felt like we were thinking the same thing, reliving that night. His panic, his tears, the blood and pain of the past he wore on his hands that tore at a punching bag like he cou
ld somehow bring back the dead or turn back the hand of time.
“Mickey, I never regretted that night. I knew what I was doing.”
He shook his head. “No, Autumn. It wasn’t only that night, it was every other one that followed. It was selfish to pressure you into giving up your dreams, pushing myself on you. Asking you to forget your parents and live with me. I wanted all of you, wanted you so much I never realized until it was almost too late, that if a butterfly is left caged, it will eventually wither and die. I never gave any thought to what you wanted out of life. I was so desperate to have you that I lost sight of part of what attracted me to you in the first place, your ambitions, your desire to learn and thrive. You wouldn’t have been able to do that with my minimum-wage job.”
Warm tears stood in my eyes. If I spoke, they would fall.
“I never felt like I deserved to be anything but poor, punishment I guess, for believing I killed my father. I’ve spent the rest of my childhood up until recently wishing it had been me instead of him. With the help of my mom, Uncle Marco, and Uncle Roberto, I’ve been learning to let go of the past. But it’s a long hard road. I’m learning it’s okay to want more for not only Mom and Jimmy, but myself. That I deserve to live and let the dead go.”
“And you felt like I couldn’t handle that? Help you?” I asked quietly.
“Through all of it, I’ve never stopped wanting you. But I wanted to get better,” he said, his voice hitching in his throat. “I wanted to show you I was worthy of you. I wanted to get straight in my head, be someone, and do something with myself to show you that I had listened to you. I wanted to be someone you could be proud of. I was waiting for the right time. Every time I thought about calling you, coming to see you, I was afraid I’d hurt you too much. That you would reject me.”
I lost against the tears I’d held back. They quietly fell from my eyes.
“I never meant to hurt you either,” I said. “Things are so different now.”
