by Kayla Myles
“What are you doing here?” I muttered.
“My friend referred me here. He’s getting married soon, so he needed someone to fill in.” he answered.
“So you’ll be temporarily?” I asked, but he shook his head.
“It’s my turn to ask questions now,” he said.
“I don’t have anything to say to you about my life,” I replied. “I want you gone.”
“Rebecca, you can’t do this,” he urged. “You can’t make me leave just because you can’t stand the sight of me. Whatever happened between us, let’s keep it between the both of us. Let’s keep things professional.”
I looked at him with wide-eyed amazement and incredulity, shocked he could say such things to me after what he’d done. I stared at his face, noting the cold and emotionless mask he was wearing, and it made me bristle in anger once more.
I raised my fist to punch him again, but he caught my fist with his hand before it made contact. He opened his mouth to speak but I swung a left hook with my other hand and connected with his lips.
He let me go as he wobbled backwards from the impact, and I just stood there as my eyes started to pool with tears of anger, watching and waiting for him to get a grip on himself.
“How could you say that to me?” I whispered. “How do you have the gall to say that after all I’ve been through because of you?”
His eyes widened, and his cool exterior shed off, revealing how confused but guilty he felt at this moment.
“Did you know how much I suffered when you left? Did you even think about what it did to me when I found myself all alone because you disappeared without a word? Did you ever think about that, huh?”
“Rebecca, I--,” he started, but I was on a roll and I could not be stopped. I stepped towards him and started beating his chest with my fists.
“You killed me!” I bellowed. “You disappeared and it killed me! And then I lost--,” I couldn’t continue anymore and broke down, my teeth shaking as I tried to keep myself from sobbing out loud. I felt Michael’s arms wrap around me as we slid down to the floor, our legs tangling with each other as I continued to cry into his chest.
The whole time I cried, he kept rubbing my back and arms, and he said he was sorry. He was sorry he hurt me, sorry he went away, sorry he left without saying goodbye. If I had heard him say those words before, I would’ve been thrilled. I would’ve welcomed him with open arms, and let bygones be bygones.
But nine years was too long for me to keep waiting for those apologies.
Once I felt exhausted of all of my tears, I pushed myself off of him and stood up, wiping my face with my hands to get rid of the evidence that I had cried up a waterfall. He followed suit and looked at me worriedly, probably wondering if I had already finished my meltdown.
“Are you alr--,”
“I need some time to think,” I interrupted, and before he could say another word, I walked away from him.
I may have finished my meltdown, but I still felt too shitty for a proper conversation.
Damn it, I needed a drink.
***
“Are you really not going to take the job?” George asked, and I sighed as I adjusted the phone to my other ear. My search for liquor became a search for someone to vent my frustration on, and I ended up calling my very pregnant best friend on the phone, who was all too willing to lend me an ear as staying in bed was making her feel like a “soggy noodle”.
“I don’t know if I could, George,” I murmured. “I don’t know if I can stand to be with him in the same room, much less try to cooperate with him.”
“Well, what did happen all those years ago, anyway? Are those memories really too important for you not to let go of them? To let them define you?” she asked.
“I thought I was fine already,” I told her. “I thought that after everything happened, I was strong enough now to deal with whatever came my way. But as soon as he pops up all my hard work came crumbling down.”
“Then are you just going to give up?” she asked. “Are you going to let him win?”
I couldn’t say anything to that, and I heard her sigh.
“Listen, Rebecca,” she said softly. “You’re my best friend, and I love you, but to be honest, I don’t know much about your life before we met. I don’t know what went on in your life to make you hate this guy so badly. Won’t you tell me? Maybe then I would understand,” she pleaded.
I mulled the thought over for a while and realized she was right. George was my best friend, and she deserved to know about this part of my life, especially when my past was part of the reason why I was so short with her with regards to her pregnancy.
“Okay,” I finally said. “But I warn you: it’s not going to be pretty.”
Chapter 11
Michael
I cracked open another beer and started chugging, the burning taste going down my throat wasn’t enough to blur out what happened. Instead, it was making me feel even shittier.
I guess I need something stronger than a beer.
“I knew I would find you here,” someone said, and I turned my head to see Spencer approaching the bar and taking the seat next to me. I nodded towards him, and raised my bottle before taking another swig. He raised his hand to call the bartender’s attention before nodding towards me. “Hey, Tony. My friend and I over here will have some JD. You can leave the bottle.”
The bartender nodded and went off to get his order and I raised my eyebrow at him.
“This your regular hangout spot?” I asked, and he shrugged.
“Meh. It’s just the closest bar to the office if you want to get drunk after a very long day,” he replied. The bartender gave us our drinks, and we clinked our glasses before downing our shots. “So…Chase told me what happened.”
“Oh, yeah? Did he tell you how I almost face planted because of her attack?” I said mildly.
“Look, dude,” Spencer said, his eyes serious. “I’ve known Rebecca Hayes for a while. And although she has a pretty big reputation as an Amazon, I also know she doesn’t punch people unless there’s a very good reason for her to get violent. So are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or are you going to find the answers to the universe’s questions from the bottom of that bottle?”
I looked at my glass and the JD in front of me, seriously contemplating doing his last suggestion, but judging from Spencer’s face, it was obvious he wasn’t letting me off the hook. I was going to spill the beans to him, regardless.
So instead of resisting, I poured myself another glass, took a swig of courage, and started my story.
“Rebecca and I grew up together back in Maine. We were always close, but it wasn’t until high school when we realized our feelings for each other went a hell of a lot deeper than just childhood buddies.” I explained. Spencer’s eyes widened.
“So you two got together?” Spencer asked, and I nodded. He whistled low. “Can’t say I didn’t see that coming.”
“She was so beautiful,” I murmured, my mind traveling back to the image of a sixteen year old girl, with her hair wild and glowing like a fiery ember in the hearth. Although Rebecca was still beautiful now, there was an innocence and reckless glow about her before that she didn’t possess anymore. “She was the breath of fresh air I had craved for in an otherwise horrible day. That spark inside of her inspired me to change and make myself better, enough to deserve to be with her.”
“We were happy for a while. She was content with how things were…but I was different,” I said, my voice lowering into a whisper. “I had always wanted more. She was happy to stay in Maine, and live out the rest of her days as ordinary, but I didn’t see a future for me there. I wanted to explore, to travel, and to find a better purpose, but I was just an orphan who had to work two jobs to support myself, so that dream was out of my reach…until I turned eighteen and was eligible to join the Army.”
“I had practiced over and over in my head the best way to tell Rebecca that I was leaving, but I chickened out. I spent my l
ast night with her before hopping into a plane taking me to the infantry I was assigned to, and I never went back.”
“You never tried to contact her?” Spencer cried, and I shook my head.
“I wanted to, Spence. I tried writing her letters so many times,” I sighed as I looked at my empty glass sadly. “But I was a coward. I couldn’t take the idea of her mad and disappointed at me, so I settled with the thought that if I stayed away for a long time, she’ll move on and find someone better.”
“You’re an idiot, dude,” Spencer commented.
“I know that,” I said, feeling so frustrated. “What I don’t understand is why she’s so angry at me right now. It’s been years since then! Hasn’t she had enough?” I asked.
Spencer sighed and filled up our glasses once more before taking a sip.
“I don’t know, man. But I think that if Rebecca’s still harboring that amount of emotion for you, then you must’ve left an even deeper wound on her than you thought.” He said.
Was he right? Did I really leave such a deep mark on her for her to react this much? Was there any way for me to change that?
“What do I do?” I asked, desperate for anything to mend my broken relationship with her.
“Why don’t you pray that she changes her mind about working with you for now?” Spencer suggested. “And then if she does, show her how much you regret leaving her.”
“And if that doesn’t work?” he shrugged.
“Then that’s it, man. You blew it, so you gotta live with it.”
Chapter 12
Rebecca
“Okay, so let me get this straight; You and Michael used to be in a relationship back when you were kids, but then he grew distant until he finally disappeared without telling you, and the only reason you found out was because you found a spare dog tag with his name on it?” Georgiana said, summarizing everything I told her so far.
“Yep, pretty much.” I told her.
“And that’s the reason why you are so angry at him?”
“Yes,” I said quickly before faltering. “Well, there’s another reason why I hate him…”
“What is it?” she inquired, and I took a deep breath before expelling with a depressed sigh. Remembering this chapter of my life always made my heart ache.
“A few weeks after he left, I didn’t feel so good. I was throwing up a lot, and I was hypersensitive about everything, even with the way everything smelled…,” I described. I heard Georgiana gasp in shock as she recognized the symptoms I was telling her about.
“Oh my God…,” she said softly, a hint of pity already veiled underneath her voice, but I plowed onward with my story, refusing to be affected.
“I took three different pregnancy tests, and when I still couldn’t believe the results, I finally told my parents and had them schedule me an appointment with an OB/GYN.”
I remembered feeling so conflicted that day, as I waited for the nurse to call me for my examination. I was clutching at my skirt so tight then, thinking about how I was going to raise a baby on my own, and feeling the growing animosity from my parents after disappointing them. I knew I couldn’t stay under their roof after the results came, and I was fine with that. I already knew they weren’t going to support me now that their rebellious daughter got pregnant, so I had started to look for cheap places to rent.
The whole time I had envisioned my life back then, though, and in my mind, I pictured Michael with me. Even after a few weeks with no contact whatsoever, I had been holding out hope for Michael to come back.
“Obviously, the results came back positive, and then my life came crashing down.” I continued. “My parents didn’t want me to live with them anymore, saying stuff like I was a disappointment, and that I ruined their plans for me. I moved out and moved into a cheap unit, vowing to myself that I was going to take care of that child for as long as I lived.”
“Oh, Rebecca…,”
“But as it turns out, being seventeen and pregnant while working hard to feed yourself was much harder than I thought it would be.” I said. “One night, when I was going back home from work, a drunk guy that lived in the same apartment saw me as I was climbing up the stairs, and he tried to force himself on me. I fought as hard as I could…and he pushed me down the stairs because of it.”
“I remember lying face down on the floor. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak, and then I felt something sticky dripping down my leg, and I knew then I had lost her,” my voice cracked as I finished my story as the devastation I felt that night came back to me in full force. My heart ached so badly against my ribs that I was clutching my chest in an effort to stop it from hurting.
“What happened to the guy who attacked you?” she asked, and I sighed.
“He disappeared. His apartment was empty by the time I woke up in the hospital and reported him to the cops,” I answered. “I tried to track him down so many times, but I couldn’t. It’s like he was erased from the earth in one fell swoop…just like my baby.”
“I’m so sorry, Rebecca,” she whispered. “Is that why you were…,” she trailed off.
“Yeah,” I said, already knowing what she was going to say. “I guess it reminded me of how I was so young and so unprepared to have a kid, how scared I felt about being responsible for another life that I blew up on you. And I think that deep inside, I was pretty jealous.”
“Hm? What do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean, I think a part of me was sad my baby didn’t survive and yours did. But don’t worry, I’m all over it, and I feel so ashamed I felt that way,” I said.
“It’s okay, Rebecca,” she told me. “I understand. Thank you for telling me something so painful to share.”
“I should’ve already told you about that anyway,” I countered.
“No, you didn’t,” she said firmly. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to tell me anything. The fact that you chose to tell me about it made me feel very warm, though. Thank you for trusting me with such a painful past.”
“Thanks for understanding,” I whispered.
“It’s no problem. That’s what best friends are for,” she said brightly, probably trying to lighten up the conversation. I still felt pretty horrible about reliving that part of my life, but I was ready to talk about something else if that’s what she wanted. Wallowing in despair wasn’t my idea of spending my day off. “What are you going to do about the job though? I mean, I understand why you don’t want to take it, but are you sure that would be wise?”
“Why not?”
“Well, I just think this would be a perfect opportunity to let him know what happened to you,” George said. “He deserves to know. Besides, I think the only way you could heal is for you to face him.”
“I don’t think I can,” I replied with a wince.
“You already have,” she countered, giggling a little. “If that punch of yours didn’t already clue him in that something was wrong with you two, then I don’t know what will.”
I finished my call with George, and just lied in my bed, staring at the ceiling. Could I really do this? Could I work with Michael on this case and let go of my pain?
I mulled the thought over and over, weighing the pros and cons until I fell asleep from exhaustion. By the time I woke up, night had fallen, and I panicked that Chase had already called the client and cancelled because of me.
I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts for Chase’s number so I could tell him. I waited for him to pick up, and when he finally did, I took a deep breath and said my piece in a hurry.
“Hey, I changed my mind. I’ll take the job. Bye.”
***
Chase sent me and Michael to the Lee Residence the very next day, probably because he thought I was going to get cold feet if he delayed the operation any longer. To be honest, I still wasn’t sure I was ready to work with Michael, but what George said to me last night struck a chord within me. If I didn’t at least try to mend this…whatever this is between us, then that dark cloud would
always hover over us, and neither of us will be able to move on.
And George was right. Michael deserved to know.
For his part, Michael took my violent reaction towards his reappearance all in stride. I didn’t apologize, and he didn’t ask me for one, but he didn’t try to distance himself from me, either. Instead, he tried to engage me in light conversation, mostly with regards to our work and how we were going to proceed with it. I told him we’d have to check the place out and see what else we had to prep on to ensure our clients’ maximum security. He didn’t badger me about anything else in the car after that.
We reached our destination, and I was pretty surprised. I thought his place was a huge mansion, but apparently he just lived in an apartment-type condominium. I tried to recall which floor he lives in but came up blank, so I turned to Michael.
“Which floor is he again?” I asked.
“Let me check,” he said, taking a folded piece of paper from his pocket and furrowing his eyebrows as he read what’s inside. “That’s weird. It doesn’t say.”
