Max

by Tara Crescent

  My brow furrows. “Friend?” I didn’t introduce Charlie as my girlfriend, but I assumed it was perfectly obvious.

  “Oh come on, Max,” Lily chuckles. Without giving me a chance to respond, she continues. “She’s nice, she’s friendly and she seems far too grounded to be a part of your harem.”

  Shannon at the farmer’s market had pretty much said the same thing last weekend. The comment stung last week, and it stings now. “I don’t have a harem, Lil. Reports of my glamorous life in the city are highly exaggerated.”

  “Max, I’m not judging you,” Lily clarifies. “Hey, sometimes, when the twins are driving me especially crazy, I even envy you. Relationships are time and work and energy, and you have so much more freedom when you’re single.”

  “You don’t think I can be in a relationship.” I take a deep chug of my beer, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my heart. Even my own family doesn’t believe I can pull this off, and they know me best.

  “Maybe if you try?” Her voice sounds doubtful. “But Max, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to have fun.”

  My relationship with Charlie is fun, I want to protest. I enjoy every minute I spend with her. She’s completely amazing in every way.

  Then a thought strikes me. Does Charlie think I’m too shallow to be in a relationship? She’s never referred to me as her boyfriend, not even when she was introducing me to her friend Debbie. She has to know how I feel about her. I spend every free minute with her, for fuck’s sake. I brought her to meet my family. I watched a romantic comedy with her the other night. She’s got to know I’m doing these things because I’m crazy about her, right?

  Maybe you’re not what she’s looking for in a boyfriend, Max. Maybe she just wants a friends-with-benefits deal. Maybe you’re the only one that wants more.

  I gulp down the rest of my beer and look around for another. Suddenly, my chest feels tight and all I want to do is get very drunk.

  17

  Charlie

  Something’s wrong.

  Things were going great at Max’s sister’s place. I had fun chatting with his mom and dad, who are great people. His sister Lily was friendly and welcoming, his brother-in-law Bill was hilarious, with a dry sense of humor, and the twins were a riot.

  Then, all of a sudden, Max came up to me with a peculiar look on his face and asked me if I wouldn’t mind being the designated driver. “Sure,” I’d said, though the request was uncharacteristic of Max.

  Now, he’s in the passenger seat, his eyes closed. “Is everything okay?” I ask him as we drive back to the city in the twilight. It’s almost eight. Normally, we’d go to Joe’s bar on a Saturday night if we don’t have other plans, but Max has already had plenty to drink for the night.

  “Yeah.” His voice is clipped. “What was wrong with you earlier? You seemed off.”

  I don’t want to tell him I was nervous about meeting his family. That seems so clingy. “Nothing,” I lie.

  “Really?” He sounds strained. “If something was wrong, would you tell me, Charlie?”

  No. I’m terrified of putting myself out there. I’m convinced that the instant I do, Max will morph into Dominic, and he’ll disappear from my life. “What’s going on?” I counter with a question of my own. “You’re in a strange mood today, not your usual cheerful self.”

  “My usual cheerful self.” His mouth twists into a grim line. “That’s me. Max the clown. Always good for a laugh and a joke.”

  The traffic grinds to a halt as we near the city, and I’m too busy paying attention to the road to respond. My thoughts however, are troubled. What is going on with Max? Did I say something wrong to his parents, or did I act too much like his girlfriend? I was trying all afternoon to keep some distance between us, so that I wouldn’t come across as needy. I thought I’d done well, damn it. I thought Max would be pleased with me.

  I blink back tears and spare Max a glance from the corner of my eye. His hand is covering his face, and his breathing is deep. He’s fast asleep.

  Great. Just fucking great.

  * * *

  Max:

  My head pounds and my vision is hazy. Too much to drink, too little rest. The five in the morning starts can be a bitch sometimes. Right now, all I want to do is curl up next to Charlie and fall asleep.

  At my place, her hand runs over my body. “Want to mess around, Max?” she breathes in my ear. She trails kisses over my chest, and judging from the gleam in her eyes as she heads lower, she’s got a destination in mind.

  I’m wiped. I’m no good for her tonight. Right now, Lily’s words echo in my head, and so do Shannon’s, and I’m convinced Charlie wants to break up with me. I don’t get in these moods often, but when I do, sleeping it off is the best thing to do.

  I pull her up next to me and kiss her lips. “Can we take a raincheck until tomorrow morning, Charlie?” I ask her. “I’m completely wiped.”

  She goes very still in my arms. Finally, she breaks the silence. “Sure, Max. Whatever you want.”

  18

  Charlie

  I lie in the dark for a very long time, tears pouring down my cheeks. At my side, Max sleeps deeply, his breathing even.

  You’re being ridiculous, Charlie, the non-crazy, non-emotional part of me argues.

  He has sex with women three times, Charlie, another part of me points out. Guess what? You’ve had your three shots at this, and sure enough, Max didn’t want to fool around the fourth time. That’s probably why he was drinking at his sister’s, because he doesn’t like break-ups.

  Talk to him, another voice encourages. This one sounds like Debbie. Practical, sensible Debbie, who was utterly right when she guessed that Dominic had scarred me far deeper than I let on.

  As the sun creeps over the horizon, my fear wins. I quietly disentangle myself from Max’s arms, and slide off the bed. Tiptoeing to my purse, I find a pen and a piece of paper, and in the dark, I write Max a note that breaks my heart with each word.

  We had a good run Max, didn’t we? But it had to end sometime.

  Tears threaten to overflow onto the page as I ponder my next words. The idea of a life without Max in it is too grim to contemplate, but I have my rules. I don’t stay friends with exes. My fingers tremble as I write the next words.

  Please don’t try to contact me.

  There’s an ache in my throat as I finish up the note.

  Thanks for everything, Max. - Charlie.

  Leaving it next to the coffee machine, where he’ll be sure to find it in the morning, I gather my stuff and leave. At the door, I turn back, one more time. This feels like the biggest mistake of my life - but I can’t stop myself. Already, Max is essential. If I don’t end it now, what’s the best case scenario? We stay together, the passion diminishing between us, and then one day, he walks away, the way Dominic did?

  That would destroy me.

  Goodbye, Max, I whisper silently, my hand on the doorknob. I love you.

  19

  Max

  When I wake up, Charlie’s gone.

  I read the note on the counter without understanding it. All that registers is that she’s left me, and she doesn’t want me to contact her.

  My phone rings, and my heart jumps in hope. Maybe it’s Charlie, telling me the whole thing was a joke.

  But it isn’t Charlie. It’s Barbara Calloway, the woman who is having a retirement party for her husband tonight. “Max,” she says, sounding harried, “I’m so sorry to do this to you at the last minute, but can you make sure the cake is ready by five, not six?”

  “Of course, Mrs. Calloway,” I respond on auto-pilot. What happened yesterday between Charlie and I that she would leave without a word, without an explanation? I thought we were at least friends. Even if she didn’t reciprocate my feelings, I didn’t think she would walk out without saying goodbye.

  I have a cake to bake for tonight, but I can’t focus on anything other than Charlie. I know she told me not to contact her, but I can’t stop myself from dialing
her number.

  The phone rings and rings, but she doesn’t answer. When her voicemail comes on, I pause, searching for words. “Charlie,” I say at last, swallowing to clear the tightness in my throat, “it’s only been a few hours, and I miss you already.”

  There’s a beep in my ear. A mechanical voice tells me to press eight if to save my message and nine to delete it. My fingers hover over the keypad. Charlie asked me not to contact her. She has every right to expect that I respect her wishes.

  I punch nine, and allow my words vanish into the ether. If only I could do the same thing with my feelings.

  This is going to pass, Max, I tell myself. You’ll get over Charlie Campbell. After all, you’re not the relationship sort.

  20

  Charlie

  A day goes by, then another, and before I know it, a week’s passed. I stay away from Joe’s bar, because I don’t want to run into Max. I don’t listen to music, because it reminds me of the one evening Max tried to teach me to play guitar. I can’t eat dessert without thinking about the many times I opened my front door to find a brown paper bag filled with the result of Max’s baking. When I see a bearded guy on the street, my heart begins to thump in my chest until he comes closer, and I see it isn’t Max.

  Max. Everything reminds me of Max.

  My unhappiness has one benefit. My cold, steely bitch persona works to my clients’ benefit.

  As I suspected, once Nolan released the video to me, his case against Renee crumbled. He tried to suggest I take a plea deal, but I held firm. “Dismiss the case,” I told him flatly at our last meeting. “Or take a chance in Judge Tang’s court.”

  Nolan might have gambled, but his boss isn’t as reckless. I receive word Monday morning that the DA’s office is dropping all charges against Renee. She cries as I tell her, but even the flush of my victory doesn’t succeed in lifting the fog of unhappiness from my heart.

  “What happened?” Debbie asks me Wednesday afternoon, but I don’t have a good answer for her. After all, Max didn’t do anything horrible. If I tell her the reason I broke things off with Max was because he rejected me one night, she’ll yell at me and call me a fool. And I know I’m being an idiot.

  Except, I’ve experienced this before. At the start of our relationship, Dominic and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other. But as the weeks went by, the sex decreased in frequency. Our lovemaking became predictable, perfunctory. I’d thought it was a normal part of being in a relationship. The early attraction was bound to fade, I reasoned.

  Then Dominic disappeared on me. One day, he just left. He stopped returning my calls and didn’t answer my emails. No explanation, no closure.

  I don’t think Max would do what Dominic did. But when someone as sexual as Max didn’t want to make love, it was a big, flashing red sign that I couldn’t ignore. Better I end it before I fall completely in love with him.

  “We had sex three times,” I keep my tone light. “That’s Max’s limit. Our relationship reached its natural end-point.”

  “Did he break up with you?” Debbie probes.

  “No, I broke it off with him.”

  “Because…?”

  “Look, I don’t want to get into this, okay?” I snap at Debbie. If she keeps up this line of questioning, I’m going to burst into tears, and I can’t go into court with red eyes. Any sign of weakness and the prosecution will eat me alive.

  “Fine.” She raises her hands in surrender. “It’s your life. But can I just say one thing?”

  She takes my silence for consent. “I’m a pretty good judge of character. Max adored you, and I’ve never seen you as happy as when you were with him. Relationships are scary. Making yourself vulnerable to someone else is terrifying. But sometimes, when the right person comes along, it’s also the most fulfilling thing you can do.”

  “I have to be in court.” My voice is flat. “I can’t do this now.”

  “I’ll talk to you later?” she asks me. She doesn’t hide the worry in her eyes.

  “Sure.”

  * * *

  I have a tiring, frustrating afternoon, and I don’t get back home until seven.

  As usual, there’s no food in my refrigerator. The sole contents on the shelves are a jar of mayonnaise that I don’t remember opening, and some peanut butter. I look in my pantry, thinking that I can manage, but I’m out of crackers or bread.

  “Damn it,” I curse out aloud. Visions of the burger at Joe’s bar dance in my head. Big and juicy, and Joe puts an extra helping of sautéed mushrooms on top of the patty because he knows how much I love it. I used to eat that burger twice a week. I miss that burger.

  It’s Wednesday. What are the odds that Max will be at Joe’s? Slim, I tell myself, my hunger temporarily overcoming heartache.

  Just then, my phone rings. My heart lurches. Max? I think, as I have every single time the phone has rung in the last ten days. But it isn’t him. The number on my screen isn’t one that’s familiar to me. I contemplate ignoring it, but it could be a client, so I pick it up.

  “Charlie?” a man asks, his tone hesitant. His voice is one from my past, and is very familiar to me. “Is that you?”

  My skin grows cold. “Dominic,” I whisper. “What do you want?”

  “To see you.” He sounds unsteady. “Charlie, I have so much to say to you. Please, can we meet somewhere?”

  What am I supposed to say? I don’t know what the right response is. “Okay.”

  “Okay, you’ll see me?”

  I shake my head violently. Once upon a time, I would have begged for closure. But I don’t want to see Dominic now, not when Max has made my heart fragile.

  My head hurts, and my stomach rumbles with hunger. “Okay.” I don’t really want to hear what he has to say, but I do need to eat. On the off-chance that Max is at Joe’s with a date, maybe Dominic’s presence will keep me from making a fool of myself. “I’m going to be at a bar called Joe’s in twenty minutes. If you want to talk to me, show up.” I give him the address and hang up.

  I’m not looking forward to meeting Dominic. I’m positively dreading running into Max. That fucking burger better have a pound of mushrooms on it.

  21

  Max

  “She’s here with a guy.” Joe sounds absolutely astonished. “What the fuck are you doing, Max?”

  It feels like my heart is being squeezed through a colander. “Charlie’s on a date?” I say into the phone. At the same time, I chop almonds and dried cranberries on auto-pilot.

  “Sure seems like it,” Joe replies. “Let me ask again, Max. What the heck are you doing?”

  “She broke up with me, man.” I scoop some flour into a big bowl, and add a careful teaspoon of baking powder, before sifting the mix, pressing the phone awkwardly against my shoulder to free up both hands for the task. The twins demanded cranberry-almond muffins, and I promised Lily I’d bring over a batch in the morning. Charlie would have liked these muffins.

  “And you let her.” Joe’s voice is heavy with scorn. “You didn’t fight for her.”

  I put down the bowl. “This isn’t the middle ages, Joe. I can’t kidnap her and hold her hostage until she changes her mind.”

  “Did you tell her how you feel?” Joe’s not done giving me a hard time. “Did you tell her you didn’t want her to go? Did you ask her to stay?”

  No. I buried myself in work and hoped that time will numb the pain. “She knows where I am.”

  “You know what your problem is, Max?” Joe sounds disgusted with me. “You’ve never had to work for it. It comes too easy for you.”

  “Nothing about this week has been easy,” I snap, cracking three eggs into another bowl. One of them slips out of my grasp and falls to the floor. Fuck. “I’m miserable without Charlie. I thought the hurt would fade, but it hasn’t. Every morning I wake up, she’s not next to me. Every time I open a beer, I wish she was there to share it. Are you fucking happy?”

  “You jackass. Why are you telling me this? You should be telli
ng her. Before it’s too late, and the moment slips away forever.”

  I stare at the mess on the floor blankly. Normally, I’d clean it in a flash, but I’m not paying attention, because Joe’s words sink in. She’s on a date. I could lose her.

  Joe’s absolutely right. I have to tell her how I feel. I can’t give up without a fight.

  “I’m coming over,” I say grimly. “Right now. Don’t let her leave.”

  22

  Charlie

  The burger is bliss. Dominic? Less so. I don’t know what I was expecting. What could Dominic have said to me that would have made his behavior acceptable? Nothing.

  Sure enough, he has nothing. “I was really nervous, Charlie,” he says, leaning forward and stealing a french fry from my plate.

  I glare at him. He’s not my boyfriend - he doesn’t get to share my food. Had Max been here, we’d have argued cheerfully over fries - potato or sweet potato, before agreeing to order one of each and split them. “Get your own food if you’re hungry,” I tell him tersely, refusing to allow myself to think about Max anymore.

  Dominic starts to say something, then sees my expression and thinks better of it. I survey him dispassionately. I can’t remember what I ever saw in him. Time has eroded the sharpness of my hurt and pain, and has dulled it to indifference.

  “So you just disappeared?” I raise an eyebrow. “We dated for three months. You couldn’t break up with me like a decent person?”

  He winces. “I don’t know what to say.” His eyes dart around the bar, looking for escape. I get the feeling Dominic thought I’d accept his apology graciously, and that’d be it. I’d be damned if I’m following that script.