by J. P. Grider
My heart hurts.
Too much.
64
HOLLY
Wednesday morning, psych class goes by too fast. It's amazing how much focus I can have when the subject interests me. As yesterday and the day before, Ben sits next to me, but remains intent on listening to the professor. It impresses me that he finds Dr. Hamburg as interesting as I do. At least, it looks as if Ben is interested. His presence today, though, reminds me of my preposterous fabrication that Ben and I are seeing each other. What the hell?
"So where do you go to hang out, Holly?" Ben asks while I'm finishing up jotting down tonight's assignment?
I look up at his standing form surprised. "Huh?"
"All my friends went home for the semester. I'm renting a shithole of a room from some old lady, and I'm getting bored. You seem cool. Maybe we can do tonight's assignment together."
"Oh, sure. That's a good idea." It's a great idea, and very... fluky that he'd ask me a day after I'd admitted, untruthfully, to dating him. "When?" I shrug noncommittally.
"I get out of my next class at two. After that?"
"Um. Yeah. I have to be into work tonight at four though." I grab my books and stand up to alleviate a potential neck ache, he's not that tall, but from this position, he may as well be. "Think we can squeeze it in?"
"Yeah. You work far from here?"
"No. Donny's in Haledon. It's only two minutes down the road. I can meet you wherever."
"Donny's is good. I'll be there at 2:02." He grins, pats me on the back, and leaves.
A no-nonsense type of guy. I like that in a person.
Then it occurs to me. I may not be working with Mick today, but he will be working when I am studying with Ben. Holy bejeezus, what did I do? Maybe this is good. If Mick is seeing someone, then he doesn't have to feel bad. But after his reaction last night...I have a feeling Mick isn't seeing anyone regularly. Oh boy. I don't even have Ben's number to cancel.
Now see...this is why I prefer being a bitch. Then I don't have to worry about other people's feelings. What has Rose done to me?
I go home to Griffin's empty house and throw in a load of laundry. It's whites day. While the washing machine is going, I make myself a turkey and lettuce sandwich and fix a pitcher of lemonade. I don't like being in the house alone, and I don't like being without my friends. I shoot Rose a text since I haven't heard from her, then I grab my copy of Running Barefoot by Amy Harmon and take my lunch out to Griffin's huge front porch. How corny and old-fashioned of me to be sitting on a porch drinking lemonade, and it makes me miss my best friend. If she were here, she'd be giving me all this wholesome advice and sharing her down-home family wisdom.
So why the heck isn't she texting me back?
It's 2:02 p.m. and I'm sitting in my car in the lot that sits next to Donny's. The lot meant for Frank's Liquors and Restaurant patrons only. But I don't want to go in and see Mick. If I'm alone, I'm not sure if he'll want to talk, and I don't know what to say if we do. He'll no doubt ask about Ben, and I'll have to either say I was lying, which I was, and that I'm not seeing Ben, only to have him see me with him anyway. Or I have to tell him I am seeing him and that he'll be joining me momentarily.
Another minute goes by when I see a shiny new black Honda Civic pull in the lot next door. I wait for the Honda to pull into a space and its driver to get out. His dark blue hat is donned backwards over his thick dark hair. When he pulls his black glasses off his face, he plants them securely over the hat brim behind his head, and showcases those bright blue eyes. If I wasn't so into Mick, I just might actually want to date this dude. He's so ruggedly beautiful.
Taking a deep breath, I get out of my car, and watch Ben enter Donny's from the front door. I wait about ten seconds and step forward, entering Donny's with a palpitating heart. Mick isn't looking at the door when I open it, so I slip in unnoticed and spot Ben immediately, sitting at a front corner table. Fortunately, out of Mick's direct line of sight.
"Hey, Ben." I pull out the chair and sit.
"Hey, Holly."
Tina approaches the table, handing us menus as she greets us. "Hey, Holly. I didn't see you come in with..." she smiles, eying Ben. "Hi."
"Tina, this is Ben. Ben, Tina."
"Hey."
"Hey."
"What can I get you both?"
"Just an iced tea for me, Teen."
"Ben?"
"Coke, please, and an order of nachos if you have 'em."
"Yup. Be right back." She takes our menus and leaves.
"Are you a waitress here too?" Ben isn't looking at me when he asks, he's opening his book to chapter five.
While I open my spiral notebook and fold it over, I pull a pen from my purse and say, "Yeah. But tonight I'm behind the bar. Donny's training me."
"Cool." He's looking at me now. "Donny's the owner? Obviously?"
"Yeah." I laugh. "He's cool. You've never been here?" I ask, surprised, since most of Hunter Hill's student body frequents Donny's.
"No. Most of my time's spent playing ball or keepin' my grades up. Not much time for drinking and shit."
I nod in agreement, though inwardly cringing because most of my time before I started working was spent drinking and shit. More shit than drinking, but still. This guy's so...good. He reminds me of Rose, who still hasn't texted me back.
"So," I say, attempting to switch gears, "what do you want to chart our graph on and with which variables? He said we can partner up, right?"
"He did. How 'bout identifying violent behavior from toddlerhood to childhood determining if and how much will be carried through the teenage and adult years?"
"You haven't given the assignment much thought, have you?" I joke.
He grins. "I love Psychology. These kinds of questions run through my mind regularly."
"Wow. I'm impressed. You're going to be a great psychologist. But sure, let's go with your idea."
Our drinks are sitting in front of us, and I don't even recall Tina bringing them, but when I pick it up to take a sip, my eyes inadvertently leave the safety of our study session. And I find Mick scowling at me from behind the bar. Quickly, I snap my head back down, pretending to look at my notebook, but I can't seem to refrain from shifting my eyes in his direction every few seconds.
Mick's gaze leaves me, but his lips are pursed, and his anger can be felt from where I sit. I try hard to ignore it in order to be an active participant in our psych assignment, but when Ben excuses himself to go the bathroom, all of a sudden, Tina's hand rests on my shoulder, and she's slinking down next to me so that we are eye level.
"Holl," she whispers. "What's going on? Since you walked in, Mick has been steaming from the ears."
I sigh.
"I try not to pay attention to everyone's business, so I really don't know if you guys were a thing or not...I mean, I'd heard, but... what happened? Did you piss him off? He's never this upset."
Closing my eyes, I take a breath. "Don't really know," I answer truthfully, and try to play it off as nothing.
But my heart knows it's not nothing, because it's screaming at me to make things right.
Damn heart.
"I was thinking," Tina continues even though I'm sending signals for her to stop talking, "maybe he doesn't like you with that guy you're with. Maybe he thinks you're dating him?" The way she emphasizes the word dating and says it questioningly, I'm suddenly wondering if she's actually asking to see if Ben's available for herself.
This irks me for some unknown reason, so I snarl, "Well, it's not up to Mick who I'm with, so he's just gonna have to deal with it." Sometimes I just can't stand myself. I haven't learned yet, at my age, how to embrace honesty. Lord knows I want to. I really want to. But something in my brain rejects it, opting for cynicism instead.
Tina stands. "I get it," she says. "Who knew he was that into you, huh? I mean, the guy never talks."
"Well. He's got some other things going on in his life besides me that could be causing his anger," I say in a to
ne that should end this ridiculous conversation. Ben's on his way back, and he doesn't need to hear my bar drama. He probably wouldn't want to be my friend.
Tina walks away before Ben sits back down. He and I get back to our psych work, and before we know it, it's after four, and when I spot Donny behind the bar, I realize that I hadn't noticed Mick and Donny switching shifts.
"Oh my goodness, Ben, it's after four. I don't want Donny getting upset."
"It's fine. I'll finish up the closing statement and then I'll head out. You go 'head."
I close up my books and tuck them in my arm. "Thanks so much, Ben."
"Anytime. Now get...I don't want to be the reason you get fired." He laughs.
I smile and say goodbye, but when I turn towards the bar, still smiling, Mick is standing in front of it, his fists clenched at his sides, his lips pressed together, and his grimace menacing.
Oh shit. "Mick," I say, breathless. Unsure of what to do. What to say.
He, however, says nothing at all out loud. His dark piercing eyes do all the talking. I swallow when I hear his silent words. I've betrayed him. I didn't have the patience to wait for him. I've let him down. The hate that'd erupted from him when we'd first met is back. And more ferocious than ever.
Through his eyes, I see the door to his soul slam shut, and my bottom lip trembles as I can no longer see inside him. I clutch my chest and fight back tears, but it's a moot point. The tears fall anyway. And when they do...his mouth curves up just slightly with a satisfied grin.
65
MICK
She fucking cried.
She fucking cried.
If she was going to fucking cry, I wouldn't have renounced our friendship with just one look.
Why'd she bring him here if she was going to cry at the thought of losing me?
I know she knew what I was doing. I knew the minute she saw me shut her out of my life. That's how fucking much we are meant to be together. She could read my fucking soul through my eyes.
Her quivering lip and pervading tears outlining her sad tiny face is an image that is now burned in my mind like a hot iron. I never meant to make her cry. My intention was to let her go. A favor to her. But my anger overrode my intentions. Instead of sending her my silent sacrifice of love, to let her go, I'd sent her a message of hate. I thought she'd be happy I'd set her free.
But she cried.
And I smiled.
Because I realized she still cared.
But that Ben guy ruined the moment by bringing her forgotten purse to her. She wiped her eyes and turned from me, before I could take back what I'd silently spoken.
***
It's a bad idea to take off on my bike, because I am not thinking straight. But I can't go back inside. He's there. Ben. Tina had made a point of stating his name when she was ogling him. But I'm going crazy out here. And then I see him. Getting into a brand-new black Honda. All that anger that I've held in all these years is ready to find its way back out. And as I study the baseball-capped prick, I'm afraid I'm going to take it out on him.
I'm not that person anymore. I can't just swing my fists to make me feel better. Not unless they truly deserve it. This guy doesn't deserve it... not that I know of anyway.
I watch him drive away, and I breathe. A concentrated breath. To get back in control. I'm an adult for chrissake. I'm trying to save a kid, get a job, make a life. I gotta do better than this.
Without thinking, I storm back into Donny's, step behind the bar, and grab Holly by the wrist. But not hard. "We need to talk."
Her eyes are still wet when she shoots a glance at a nodding Donny, but she says nothing when I lower my hand to hers and lead her outside.
"Why are you crying?" I ask abruptly, her hand still firm in mine.
She tries to pull away, but I don't loosen my grip. "If that's the only reason you called me out here, then you're wasting your time."
Pulling her closer, again I ask, "Why, Holly? Tell me."
"Why?" Her lip turns up into a snarl. "So you can gloat?"
My hand drops from hers. "Gloat? What the hell do I have to gloat about?"
Backing away a step, she makes a throaty hmph sound. "I saw that satisfied smirk on your face in there. I don't know what you're doing here, but I'm tired of it." She turns to walk away, but spins back around, waving a finger at my face. "In what world do you think it's okay to play with my feelings like this? Five minutes ago, you looked at me like I was dead to you. Now you think it's okay to ask me why I'm crying?" She pushes at my chest with her palm. "Go to hell, Michael Ross."
Before she can turn away again, in one quick movement, I press her hand to my chest, brace my other hand on her hip, tug her forward so we're chest to chest, our hands between us, and crash my mouth into hers. For about a tenth of a second, she doesn't respond, but then I feel her lips part and her tongue meets mine in a desperate attempt to fix whatever it is we'd broken.
When the taste of nachos on my tongue registers in my brain, I stop the kiss and grab her face in both my hands. "Why are you with him?" I say quickly, desperately.
She bites the inside of her lip and tilts her head a little to the right. "We were doing homework."
I drop my hands from her face and clench them at my sides. "Holiday. No games. Why are you seeing him?"
Every second that passes as she stares at me, not answering, feels like a dagger plunging in and out of my chest. I don't want her seeing anyone else. I have no right to demand that, but dammit, I can't get the image of her with that guy out of my head—their annoying chuckles while they laughed over something stupid, the tops of their heads touching when they were reading something from the same book, their hands meeting as they went for the same nacho chip.
"Holiday," I say again, vehemently.
"I lied."
"You lied? What does that mean exactly?"
"It means I'm not seeing him. I'm not seeing anyone. I only said that because I saw you with Lara and then that other girl."
"Lara? When? What other girl?" My fists are unclenched, but now I'm confused.
Her head dips in embarrassment.
"Holly?"
"I was in the courtroom. That day." She looks at my eyes, searching them for a reaction? Searching for something?
"You came to court? Why?"
"Moral support. I just...I was worried, and...I wanted to be there."
And all at once, all my anger just...vanishes.
"Holly." I wrap my arms around her, again I pull her close, and tuck her head in the crook of my neck. Resting my chin on the top of her head, I breathe. I breathe out the words..."Thank you." Though I really want to say, "I love you," the time still isn't right.
She remains silent beneath me, but I feel her take a deep breath.
"Holly. What did you mean you saw me with Lara and... some other girl?"
Shifting her body so she can look up at my face, she says, "You were hugging her. In court. I mean, I know you were crying, but... I just assumed."
"No. She was there on her own accord. I hadn't asked her to be there. But...well, you heard everything. She was comforting me, but it didn't mean what you think it meant. She's...she was there...I needed...Why didn't you? Why didn't you tell me you were there?"
"I meant to. After." She shakes her head and bites her lip. "Then I saw her...and you."
"Right. Well she doesn't mean anything to me. Nothing more than a friend anyway. And what about the other girl? Who?" I ask, truly clueless.
Holly shrugs and looks defeated. "Some brunette, but...I don't know, you were...I saw you with her in the bar. Sitting...at the back table. One night a while...I don't know, it's not important. I probably just..."
"My aunt. You saw me with my aunt."
"Your aunt? You never mentioned you had an aunt."
"If you were paying attention to me up at the river, you'd remember that I had."
I see her looking up to her right, searching her memory. Until, "The one that came home from college and took
you out?"
"The one and the same." I brush a few strands of hair that'd stuck to Holly's cheek when she was leaning against me. "She flew in from California to help. With Charity and Kenna."
"Oh," she says with wide eyes. "That's good?"
"It's very good."
66
HOLLY
"So..." I have no idea what to say now. Do I ask about us? Where we stand? Or leave it alone?
I wish he would say something more. He wants to. I can see it in the way his mouth opens then shuts. But he looks down instead.
"Mick?" Saying his name is a start. It may prompt him to say something.
But when he looks up, he just stares into my eyes. There's a change. He's allowing me in again, because I can now see back into his soul.
"Mick," I breathe.
"I'm sorry, Holly. I'm sorry I'm so fucked up." His words rush out. "I have no right asking you not to see anyone else. It's not my business, because I made it that way. By telling you my life is too screwed up for a girlfriend now. That hasn't changed. There's still so much in my life unresolved. It's just, I can't stop thinking about you. I can't get you outta my mind, and when I saw you with him," he throws his hand in the direction of the bar, "I thought I'd lose it right there. I hated how it made me feel. And, well, I know it's not fair to you, but oh, Holly. I don't even know what I'm asking anymore." He brings both his hands down to mine and squeezes. His shoulders sag. "I guess I'm saying, I can't have you, but I don't want anyone else to have you either."
I raise my eyebrows and drop my jaw. He's right. It isn't fair of him to ask me that. But, though it shocks me to hear him say it, truth is, I don't want anyone else in my life.
"I know, Holly. I'm not really asking you to wait for me. I don't expect it. It's just...I wish you would...wait for me, that is." His eyes probe mine. Questioning. Pleading. Begging?
