by RH Tucker
She slowly opens the box. Inside I see dozens and dozens of pieces of paper. They’re all folded nicely, into tiny squares, only an inch wide and tall. Some are different colors, some look like they’re written on pieces of notebook paper. Her hand lightly runs over them, like she’s feeling the love radiating from them.
“I still remember the first one, it’s in here somewhere. It simply read ‘I’ll love you forever.’ That’s it. But as time went on, he’d leave me more and more. Different things we’d do forever, or different things that made him smile when he thought of me. No matter what it was, they always ended with him loving me forever.”
Gently, her hand digs into the box, and she pulls out a paper. Closing the lid, she unfolds the paper, and I want to tell her to stop. It feels so personal and private like it should be something just between them.
Before she reads it, she looks at me. “I wanted to show you this because I got the same feeling about you and Micah.” Looking back at the paper, a small giggle bubbles forth. “Oh, this one was sweet. When we’re out and you think I’m not watching you, but I am. I can watch you forever because I’ll love you forever.”
I let out a sniff, wiping my eyes. “Wow, I never knew Toto was so romantic.”
“Oh, he is, girl.” She laughs, which makes me do the same. “I don’t know how many of these notes it took and I don’t know how many he would’ve kept writing to make me believe. He still writes them for me from time to time. He’ll leave in the morning, and I’ll find one in the kitchen or on the nightstand.”
“Aw, I love him.”
“I do, too.” She gently folds the paper back into place, lifting the cover of the box, and putting it back inside. “It took a long time, Vero, but I did finally trust him. And more importantly, I did finally feel like I was good enough. Who knows how long it might’ve taken for me to feel as good about myself as I do now without him. I’d like to think I would’ve gotten there eventually. And that’s not to say I still don’t see my scars some days and feel bad about them. But knowing Tomás loves me no matter what, that just strengthens my love for myself. Sometimes relying on someone doesn’t make us weaker, it makes us stronger. Does that make sense?”
I nod slowly, looking back down at my hands. “It does. I wish I were as strong as you. I just don’t know how to do that. I’m not gonna ask him to write me love notes every day until I feel better about myself.”
“What if you wrote the notes?”
“What do you mean?”
Getting up from the bed, she puts her bra away and sets the shoebox on top of the dresser, before turning around and leaning against it. “When I was thinking about these notes, I thought about you two. I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to give me the first answer that comes to mind.”
“Okay …”
She smirks. “What were you thinking on the first date you two had? The very first time.”
I remember the karaoke bar and street fair. “I thought he was cute. And then I saw him with a girl and got all nervous, but that left when he saw me and said he’d been waiting for me. And he forgot the other girl’s name.” I smile at the last part.
“And does he know that? That you were nervous about the other girl?”
“I don’t think so.”
Sitting back down next to me, she takes hold of my hand. “I think you should tell him. Write to him about the past, and what you were feeling. Tell him how you feel right now. And then, think about your future. Do you need time? Do you want a future with him? Maybe, if he finally knows exactly what’s going on in that brain of yours, you guys might be able to work through this.”
“I don’t know, Yessi,” I reply, biting my lip, still staring down at my lap.
She gives my hand another squeeze. “I really loved seeing you two together. It reminded me so much of Tomás and myself. I know things are difficult. I know you’re insecure about things. But if you guys can work through those layers, if you two can get to the heart of one another, I’m sure it can work out. But digging into those layers is hard. Believe me, I know. We put up wall after wall, all because we want to protect ourselves. But once you’re through them, it’s almost like a new life. Your problems won’t be gone, but you can face them together. Because you dealt with them together. Just think about it. Please?”
I let out a sniffle, struggling to keep my eyes dry and give her a nod. I would love nothing more than to do that. To work through these layers of emotional baggage and hang-ups we both seem to have. I just don’t know if we can anymore.
Chapter 35
Micah
Hanging out at Chevy’s is the last thing I want to do, but the new semester starts in a couple days, and Taylor is trying to have as much fun as he can. Since he got the promotion at work, and with his study load, he knows he’s going to be busy. We’re tucked away in a corner, near one of the billiard tables, as I scroll through my phone.
“Get off your phone,” he says, right before he puts his hand over it.
“Knock it off.” I lean back in my chair. “I thought you were over there flirting with Molly, or Misty, or …”
“Mandy.”
“Yeah, Mandy. Go get your jollies off and leave me alone. It’s bad enough you wouldn’t let me stay home.”
He leans over the table, making me lift my eyes. “Micah, your fingertips are orange from a steady diet of Cheetos. You still haven’t called your dad since you guys talked, and—” He grabs my phone.
“Hey!”
“Yup, just like I thought. Stalking her Instagram page. She hasn’t posted anything in a week.”
“Screw you,” I spit out, grabbing my phone back from him. “Go get your restroom hookup on and leave me alone.”
“I’ve never hooked up in a bathroom.” I glance up again, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, not this bathroom.”
“Whatever.” I put my phone away, looking around. “Are we done here? It’s been two hours, have I served my time?”
As I stand up from the table, my one and only drink that’s watered down since I never touched it, drips with sweat. Taylor looks back up at me, letting out a small scoff. Ever since I talked to my father, I’ve practically been a zombie. That’s been a week. Which means it’s been two weeks since Tomás decided to use my face as a punching bag.
“Fine, whatever.” Taylor gets up, and I head to the exit. “I’m gonna pay the bill and then see if Mandy’s down for anything. You good to get home?”
“All I had was a few pretzels. I’m fine.” I wave at him, walking out of the building.
Getting back to the apartment, I flop down on the couch, pulling out my phone once again. It’s been my go-to spot and activity for weeks now. Stalking her social media pages, pulling up pictures of us. Bringing up her phone number to maybe call her only to turn my phone off and internally scream at myself. I hate sleeping in my room. Our room. There aren’t any sheets on my bed because I pulled them off to wash a day after our argument in the morning. I don’t want to clean them and lose how they smell of her, but I don’t want to sleep on them either.
Hearing a giggle outside of our door, I grind my teeth.
Taylor’s been really considerate—especially considering it’s Taylor—to keep the noise down around the apartment, but I can’t do this right now. Maybe if he would’ve just left me alone to stew tonight, I’d throw on my headphones and ignore him, but I’m over everything Taylor related.
“Micah,” he calls out, walking in. When I turn around to give him a blatant hint that I’m not in the mood to put up with his shenanigans, I find not one but two girls with him. “Come on, we’re going back out.”
I wrinkle my nose, shaking my head. “What? No. I’m done for the night.”
“Stop that. Let’s go. Mandy and Willow know of this party on the beach.”
Turning back around, I fall back onto the sofa. “I said no. Go have a threesome or something.”
I hear a scoff from one of the girls.
“Hey, dick, th
at’s rude,” Taylor’s stern voice echoes in the apartment.
For all his promiscuous tendencies, he’s always straight-up with every girl he talks to. He doesn’t want any type of serious relationship, and he makes sure they know it. And as much as he talks a big game to his other friends, I know he’s masking what’s really going on with him.
Even knowing that, I’m still annoyed with him. “I don’t care.”
“What the hell, Micah?”
“Should we wait outside?” one of the girls asks.
“No. Micah, you don’t want to go, fine. You want to wallow here in misery? Whatever. But you owe them an apology.”
He’s probably right, but I don’t care. “Apology?” I shout, getting back to my feet and turning around. “Mandy?” I point to the girl standing next to him. “Sorry, okay? You might want to get tested tomorrow because he just slept with a different girl last night.”
Her jaw drops.
“Micah!”
“Screw this, I’m leaving. Let’s go, Willow,” Mandy says and storms out of the apartment with her friend.
“You asshole!” Taylor yells at me, and I know it’s not because I just cost him a possible night with a girl. He’s pissed. “That was totally uncalled for. If you want to cry yourself to sleep every night because you’re too much of a coward to step up, I don’t give a shit. But don’t act like an asshole with everyone else.”
“Go to hell. I’m doing the best I can, all right? I screwed up everything and have no idea how to fix it. One girl wants me, and now because of a damn history lesson, I’m wondering if I really should give her another chance. Meanwhile, I threw every insecurity Veronica has in her face, and I loved her more than I ever did Lana. So, excuse me if I’m not acting according to the timeline you think I should.”
“Are you listening to yourself?” He walks over in front of me, putting a finger in my chest. “‘Oh, there’s a girl out there who loves me, and I’m not sure what to do.’ Is that the argument you really want to have with me? Because I’ll tell you right now, you’re gonna lose that battle.”
“Get out of my face.” I push his hand away. “Go find a nameless bimbo and have another one-night stand.”
“No, you need to listen to me.” He presses his hand against my shoulder.
I push it off. “I said leave me alone.”
“I’m not going to leave you alone until I talk some sense into you.”
This time I’m the one putting my hands on him, shoving him back. “Yeah, like I really need to have you talk to me.”
“Don’t push me, bro.”
“‘Endorphins, man,’” I mock him. “‘Let’s hit the weights. Oh, what’s that? Feeling down again? Let’s just go hit on some chick at the beach, bring her back, screw her sideways.’ Huh? Is that it, Mr. Casanova? You want me to screw everything that walks, hiding what’s really going on inside?”
“Micah, I’m serious, take a step back.”
Stepping closer, I push him with both hands. “Or what? What are you gonna do, Taylor? You have no idea what I’m going through right now.”
“You know that’s bullshit. I know exactly what you’re going through. The only difference is, you have the chance I’ll never have. So don’t come at me with that crap, just because you’re too much of a coward to make a move.”
Before I know what I’m doing, I cock my fist back and swing. My knuckles connect with the side of his mouth, making him stumble back. Snapping his head back at me, his eyes lock on mine. It’s not rage that they’re filled with, it’s exasperation. But I know he’s infuriated because his next move is to leap, wrapping his arms around me, sending us crashing down on top of the couch.
I swing again, but he moves out of the way, locking one of my arms into the air. “Let me go, Taylor.”
He doesn’t answer, and I flail around on the couch, trying to counter his moves. Struggling, we slide up the top of the sofa, and I know what’s he’s trying to do. At the gym, we have different classes, and he takes boxing and jujitsu classes. I’ve sat in on a couple of the jujitsu ones, and the ways he’s moving, he’s trying to put me in a hold.
“Let me go, asshole!”
“Not until you listen to me.”
I don’t listen. Squirming again, trying to get away from him, I swing my free arm and elbow him in the ribs. He growls out in pain but doesn’t let go. Instead, we’re teetering on the top of the couch, and then we both tumble over it. Putting my hand down to break our fall, he makes his move and finally has position, locking his arms around my neck in a rear naked choke—a sleeper hold.
“Micah, calm your ass down, or you’re going out.”
I squirm, trying to claw my fingers into his arms, but it’s no use. He’s got the hold locked in. I wave my arms around, trying to get an angle to elbow him again, but I can’t. I feel his grip getting tighter.
“Micah?” he asks. I grunt back, half still struggling, half giving up. “Micah!”
“Fine,” the word chokes out.
He lets me go, and the sudden rush of air streams into my lungs. Scooting over to the side, he lifts his knees, resting his arms on them, letting out a long sigh. I continue to hold my neck, gazing at the carpet in embarrassment, still gasping for air.
“Damn it, Micah,” he groans out.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“Yeah … me too.”
Leaning against the back of the couch, I see him pick at the carpet. The silence drifts between us a few minutes before he finally speaks ups again.
“Man, you’re my best friend. When I transferred to Woodbridge, not knowing anyone, I was hoping I’d just drift through my senior year. But here we are, two years later, and you’re like a brother, Micah.” I look over at him, finding his eyes for a brief moment before his gaze drops back down to the carpet. “I hate that you’re going through this, I really do. But you know I know what it feels like. With Lana, I couldn’t care less. But with Veronica, I’ve seen it. You were happier these last months with her than I ever saw you with Lana. That’s why I’m pushing you. Not because I want you to give up on that, but because I don’t. I want you to snap out of it, and finally do something. Because take it from me …”
He picks at the carpet some more. I’m not sure if he’s going to finish his thought, even though I know the direction he’s heading in. Maybe it’s best left unspoken. If not for me, at least for him. But before I can respond, he starts up again.
“I know what you’re going through. I know what it feels like to try and breathe, and it hurts. To want to do something, but you know there isn’t anything you can do. Suck it up and go to her. Figure it out. Because sometimes you don’t get a second chance.”
I nod slowly, peering back at the carpet. There’s a sniff, and when I glance at him, his arm brushes across his face. Without looking over at me, he holds out his fist, and I silently bump his knuckles.
“I’m gonna take off,” he says, getting to his feet. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I reply. “Just gonna sit here a while. Try to figure out my next move.”
“Okay.”
I stay seated, leaning back against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. What could I possibly say to make this right? Obviously the truth, which is I don’t think she’s too good for me. I think she’s perfect for me. But will she want to hear it? Would I even get to tell her, if her brothers are there? I know they probably hate me more than she does right now.
Screw it.
I need to do this. Going to my room, I get the key I had made for her. I don’t have a clue what I’m going to say, but I know what I want. I want her. Maybe if I just try to explain that little part, we can start there and work on everything else.
More urgency in my steps, I swing open the door to leave and nearly crash into her.
“Veronica?”
Her hand is up like she was just about to knock. “Oh, hi. Were you … were you leaving?” She looks away, and I can see her holding something. A paper she clutches to h
er chest. “I can come back. This was probably a mistake.”
“Wait.” I step back, opening the door wider. “Do you … do you want to come in?”
“No, I better not.”
I frown, wanting to know why she thinks she shouldn’t come inside but don’t ask. “I was just on my way to see you actually.”
“You were?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I want to apologize. I want to fix this. Us. Here,” I pull out the key, “I had this made and never got to give it to you. It was supposed to be, I don’t know, a small token. I miss you, Vero.”
She takes the key, inspecting it. “I’m not sure I should have this.”
A piece of my heart cracks. Powering through her doubts, I motion into the apartment again. “Please, come inside. Let’s talk.”
Her fingers tighten around the paper, which looking again appears to be an envelope. She leans closer, peering into the apartment, almost like she’s afraid to take a step inside. “No. I only came by to give you this.”
Slightly creased and wrinkled, she hands me the envelope.
“What’s this?”
As she turns her head away from me, I can see her swallow nervously. She bites the edge of her lip, her eyes looking anywhere but my own. “It’s … it’s just something I need to tell you. But I’m not … I thought it’d be easier to write.”
My face drops. “Is this a Dear John letter?”
“No,” she says, offering a shake of her head, her eyes finally finding mine. “At least, I hope not.” She takes a tiny step closer, and it’s all it takes for my mind to go into overdrive.
I want to hold her. Stare into those dark brown eyes and kiss her, forgetting all of these issues we have. Her next words make me realize we can’t just forget our issues. We need to fix them.
“It’s just words I’m not brave enough to say out loud.”
Chapter 36
Veronica
The bell rings, and as everyone hurries to leave and get to their next class, I sit quietly at my desk. It’s a graphic design class, and I should be doing what everyone else is doing. Seats are always hard to come by the first week of the semester, not to mention the first day of classes. But I can’t focus. Micah took this class last year. Same professor. Same room. Trying to listen to the lecture and syllabus for the semester, my mind has drifted the entire time, wondering what seat he had.
