by Mariah Dietz
Irritation flickered across your face before your face smoothed into calmness that only irked me more. “Why does it matter?”
“Are you kidding me? Why does it matter?” I don’t know what my reaction was. All I remember is feeling so angry that if I could have, I would have punched the moon into the next galaxy after your flippant response. “Why are you doing this?”
“You’re dating Felicia!”
I should have clarified things then. Told you I dumped her and that it was never anything more than her intrigue into rumors about me, but I feared that would give you every opportunity, and leave me without any. “What do you want me to do? You confuse the shit out of me, Ace!” I raked a hand through my hair, praying you’d tell me you were going to leave him. That what I felt wasn’t something I was imagining.
“I’m tired of trying to read through the lines, Max!”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about you! As your friend, I’m telling you, you should dump the fucker and get it over with. He’s a complete dick. You deserve better than him.” We’ve since discussed why you felt like I’d been “gray,” and though I understand your point, I meant what I said. As much as I wanted you, and wanted you to want me, I wanted you to be happy more than anything. Even then, and even more now. God I miss you, Ace. Right now, next door seems like a million miles away.
“I appreciate your friendly advice, Max.” Your tone confirmed I should have revealed more than I did. I should have laid it all out for you. You took a step to move past me, and I knew I needed to do it now, before you shut that door and created a new barrier.
“Ace …”
I think you heard the desperation in my voice, because you turned, your lips curving around your teeth like you were trying to keep your own words back, and then my damn, fucking, piece of shit phone rang again.
“It sounds like she’s looking for you.”
“Dammit!” That expletive was in response to so many things at that moment.
I went home to take a fast shower, and headed to bed before the others got home because I wouldn’t be able to face Jameson or Landon without them both knowing exactly what I was feeling.
I started working on Clementine with your dad two days after that first barbecue at your house last June. I hadn’t known what to expect exactly, as friendly as your dad had always been with me, I still didn’t know him all that well.
The time we spent together out in the shop, were some of the highlights of last summer. You know how you said your dad can get people to confess anything to him? I think he was just as anxious to make his own confessions, because we spent countless afternoons taking turns talking about different experiences. Some seemed like surface topics to anyone that caught a few words, but I told your dad things that I’ve never told anyone, apart from you that is. He never seemed to judge me, or look at me with disdain. Often, he wouldn’t even offer advice, knowing I wasn’t looking for it. He just listened, and shared. Sometimes Jameson and Landon would come along, and other times, Kyle would be there, and though the conversations were generally lighter those times, they were still significant.
Kyle joined us one afternoon, his eyes round and his hair sticking up like he’d been electrocuted. He ran his hands through it, reflecting why it was standing and sighed.
“I swear. If I have to go home right now, I might kill her. She’s driving me crazy,” he growled.
I expected your dad to be upset, but he just laughed and tossed him a rag.
“Seriously, why does she have to be so damn stubborn?”
“She’s a quarter Puerto Rican and fifty percent Texan. What do you expect?”
Kyle huffed out a laugh and turned to look at me. “So you’re sticking around for the summer, huh?”
I don’t know why he asked me this. We’d already discussed it at the barbecue, but I assumed it was a surface topic.
“Yeah, until school starts. Then we’ll be moving closer to campus.”
“Your friend and Kendall seem to like each other.”
“Yeah, they seem to be hitting things off.”
He nodded a few times, his eyes slanted, remaining on me as he shifted so he was level with the hood of the car. “So, what about you?” I’m sure I looked surprised by his question because he continued. “What are you planning to do now that you’re back home?”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t. We ended up renting a house from my uncle in San Diego. He had made it big with real estate, and leased the place to us for less than what we could rent an apartment for, and we had quite a bit of money still saved from fishing that we never had touched, living off what we made in construction in Alaska.
“That’s good. Life’s too short to always be working. As long as you keep your goals in mind, it’s important to relax. Enjoy being young while you can.” That was your dad’s first subtle piece of advice that he finalized by whistling, Let it Be.
“So, what did you do?”
“What do you mean?”
Kyle’s eyes found me over his shoulder. “Ace. You obviously pissed her off. What’s the deal with you two? You guys keep hanging out, yet you’re both dating other people. Is this some sort of love triangle? Or are you guys just hanging out until school starts, or what? It’s been nearly a week since I’ve seen you over.”
Your dad stopped moving. I knew he was listening for my answer as well, which only served to make things even more difficult because I was still trying to figure things out myself. He was right, I hadn’t seen you in six long days, not since Dante’s party. I didn’t leave my house during that time. My mind was playing so many games with me while I impatiently waited for you to figure your shit out.
“We’re just friends. She has Eric.”
You know how you always know what Kyle’s thinking? His face is like an open book, every emotion is so easy to distinguish. When his eyes shifted to me, there was a warning that said if he knew me better, or not at all, he’d have considered punching me. “She’s wasting her time with Eric.”
The intense stare he was giving me, beckoning a response was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. If it hadn’t been Mindi, I really think he would have waited until I told him what in the hell was going on with us.
“I don’t normally meddle in the girls’ relationships. They do enough of that with each other.” Your dad had shared countless stories about all of you girls while we worked on Clementine, but he had never imparted any advice prior to this. “I think you scare her.” The way his eyes were slit, like he was apologizing for the fact made ice run through me. My first thought was of Dante’s and the fight, and then to Felicia, and that stupid call from Megan.
Your dad must have been able to read my fear because he smiled warmly, leaning against Clementine. “It’s the same fear you have for her. The one that’s making having a relationship with another girl sound like a good idea.
“You’re going to have to take your time with her. Ace likes to make decisions based on logic. She fabricates these ludicrous algorithms in her mind that only seem to ever fully make sense to her.
“Eric had fit her requirements. He isn’t around much, allowing her to do what she wants, and at the same time is motivated, has goals, works hard. He looks great on paper.” I remember his dark brown eyes, that are so similar to yours, focusing on me. “You don’t fit her mold because you care more about her than you do about who she might be, could be. And you’ve already been accepted by the family. She doesn’t want to like you because I think she cares more about you than she wants to. I know how amazing my daughter is, and I think you’re quickly learning how amazing she is, but I’ll let you in on a couple of secrets. She’s terrified of letting people down to an unhealthy degree, and she hides from awkward situations. She isn’t like her sisters; they talk, and scream, and cry their way through their feelings. Ace locks herself up and picks every little detail apart. That’s what she’s been doing these last few days. That’s why Kyle asked what happened.”
For whateve
r reason, I started explaining things to him, “I don’t want to be the reason she breaks up with Eric. I want her to make that decision on her own so she doesn’t have any regrets about it.”
“You won’t be the reason, Max. She’s already got a truckload of reasons. You’ll be her motivation.”
His words seemed to clear every concern and excuse that I’d been holding on to those last few weeks, and he smiled, obviously reading it on my face.
“She’s inside,” he told me, nodding toward the house, and dropping his gaze. He knew I was going to go, he didn’t have to watch. God, if I told you this now it would probably break your heart. Your dad helped me see things in a different, simpler light. I should have gone to him after our fight.
“If you smell bleach, you’re in trouble.” I remember the confusion of Kyle’s warning making my eyebrows knit. He jerked his head toward the house. “Bleach means she’s pissed and she’s doing heavy-lifting thinking; it also means you’re up shit creek. So I hope for your sake that it doesn’t smell like bleach.”
I was still questioning if he was just being a smartass, and closing the last few feet to the house when the soft echo of his run made me stop and turn.
“Don’t jerk her around. I like you. You’re not nearly as big of a playboy as I’d thought, but that’s my sister, so if your dick’s not sure, don’t go in there.”
“I’m sure.”
A small grin replaced the look of question before he turned to go and then hesitated, turning back to face me. “If she won’t talk about things, don’t force her. She’ll come around.”
You mom greeted me with a smile as I entered the back patio door. I’d been over to your house enough I probably shouldn’t have felt half as nervous as I did, but realizing everyone was aware of what was happening between us just intensified my nerves.
“You know, that park off of Grand shows movies in the park every Sunday this summer. A lot of them are older movies that you kids probably don’t have a lot of interest in, but I saw Pretty in Pink is playing tomorrow.” I had no idea what she was talking about. Hearing the title, I was instantly picturing little girls in a beauty pageant or something else equally ridiculous. “You know, the one with Molly Ringwald, Jon Cryer, and Andrew McCarthy?” she offered, looking hopeful. “Duckie?”
I tried to place any of those names, but she read my confusion, smiling before she continued. “You probably wouldn’t have seen it. Ace used to love watching it with Mindi. The two of them have seen that movie so many times they probably know it by heart. Ace really is too young to be a Rat Pack fan, so’s Mindi for that matter, but most girls that watch Molly Ringwald in those movies seem to relate on some level.”
At that point, I had lost track of the purpose of the conversation because I was mentally trying to retain the name Molly Ringwald so I could Google it when I left.
“It’s supposed to be really nice out tomorrow …” She gave me a look to make sure I understood her subtle suggestion, and for some reason, knowing your mom was on my side gave me a resounding confidence. I knew she hated Eric, my mom had told me so. Looking back, I feel like a shithead for how many hints everyone dropped our way. I’m just glad to know it wasn’t just me receiving them.
Her smile grew, sensing my resolve. “She’s upstairs, packing.”
“Muriel, would you and David be okay if I took her to the movie on my bike?”
“Bike being motorcycle?” The mere idea made her eyes tighten at the edges.
“Only to the park?” I nodded once. “And you have an extra helmet?” I quickly assured her with another nod. A quiet sigh confirmed she was going to give me the green light, but her bright red nails drummed across the counter with thought.
“With the helmet, only going to the park and back, and no speeding.” I quickly voiced my willingness to the terms, anxious to tell you.
“Alright, but let me tell David.” I couldn’t help but grin.
The stench of bleach greeted me before I hit the second floor, making me cringe.
Rounding the corner, it grew. Then I saw you, sitting on your feet, washing the walls.
Washing the walls.
I should really thank Kyle for sending me that warning, otherwise I probably would have made some wise ass remark and asked what in the hell you were doing. Instead, I knew I had my work cut out for me.
Taking a deep breath, I walked in trying to feign confidence. I have never intentionally tried to hurt anyone’s feelings before, but I’ve also never cared that I had so much as I did in that moment. “Are we okay?”
You looked up at me, and the same brown eyes that had just been dealing me advice in the garage widened with surprise before narrowing and turn back to the wall. I remember you were wearing a navy blue T-shirt with a school bus yellow sneaker that had wings across the front. It was easily one of the gaudiest shirts I’ve ever seen, and yet I wanted to see you in it every day.
“Are we okay?” You heavily enunciated each word, warning me you were pissed off.
“I haven’t seen you since Dante’s.”
Your blond hair was pulled up in a knot, and it bobbed slightly as your shook your head, and dove your hand in the bucket of bleach that I prayed was diluted because you of course weren’t wearing gloves. “I’ve been busy, you’ve been busy.”
“I haven’t been busy. Did I do something?” I knew you were pissed. I wasn’t trying to be a dense asshole with my questions. You just weren’t providing me with much on what exactly had made you so pissed at me. Just the call? Or everything?
As I stood up and got closer to you, you began scrubbing the molding, refusing to look at me. “No, of course not.”
“Do you want to go get something to eat?”
“I’m busy right now.” You still wouldn’t look at me, which only made me step closer. Pushing your comfort levels a little more in hopes that you’d talk.
“Scrubbing the walls?”
“Why do you care?”
“Why are you upset with me?” For a second I thought you heard the plea in my tone and in my words because your eyes finally flickered my way, but left just as quickly.
“I’m not upset with you.” Your tone was hard, contradicting your words.
“What are you, then?”
“Busy,” we said it in unison, do you remember? Even our tones were similar, each filled with irritation. My head was shaking and nodding at the same time with the level of frustration I felt toward myself and you.
“I can’t fix it if you won’t tell me what it is.”
Your eyes remained down as you shook your head again, and I knew you weren’t going to talk to me, but I tried one last time. “Is this about Felicia? Because I’m pretty sure you’re still dating Eric.” I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth, hating myself for being impatient again.
“No, we’re friends, Max. Friends don’t see each other every single day. There’s nothing weird between us.”
“Alright, I’m not going to push you to talk to me. But when you’re ready …” I hoped you understood what all I was saying as I stalked across your room and pulled the window that looked out across to mine as far open as it would go. “… you have my phone number, you can call me, text me, send me an SOS, throw a damn rock at my window. Hell, I’ll leave it open so when you’re ready you can just yell to me, but don’t push me out, Ace. You don’t want that either.”
I knew there was no chance in hell you would follow after me. But I sure as hell hoped you would.
By Sunday I was tired of waiting. I decided to take a page of my own advice, and take what I want. I resolved that I was taking you to see the Pretty in Pink movie that looked boring as all hell when I finally remembered the name of it, because I really couldn’t have cared less what we were doing. I wasn’t waiting anymore. I was going to lay it out there and be your motivation.
When you finally kissed me, weeks after the movie, the ruse was up. Come hell or high water, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away from yo
u because in that single moment, my desire to be around you went from difficult to control, to a completely unattainable addiction.
I feel like I’m stuck. I have no idea what to do to get things moving again. I’ve been making more of an effort to see Ace lately, still staying with my mom so I can be close to her. This past month has been difficult, far more than I had feared. It feels like every day I lose another piece of her, of us, and it scares the hell out of me.
A few days ago I had returned home from Ace’s to learn from Muriel that she’d gone to San Diego to get some things without even telling me she was going. My mom was sitting at the dining room table when I returned. She apparently sensed my unease and frustrations and told me, “You can’t fix other people, Max. They have to do it themselves.” This sort of terrifies me. My mother still seems to be fixing herself and it’s been over ten years.
Hearing the doorbell ring, I head upstairs and am slightly relieved to find Ace standing outside my front door. This is the first time she’s come over to see me since our entire space issue evolved before David passing.
“Hey.” My voice reveals my surprise as I push the door fully open.
We stand there in a moment of awkwardness that seems to be our norm lately. I’m not sure if I should lean forward and kiss her or try to hug her; our greetings, like all time we spend together lately, seems strained and foreign.
Ace stands rigid. It’s as though I can hear her body pleading for me to not touch her. She’s abstained from physical contact from nearly everyone, unless it’s forced upon her, and when that happens, she looks like a wild animal, ready to run.
“Hey,” she says slowly.
“Do you want to come in?”
Ace shakes her head. Her blond hair is tied up in a knot, and she’s wearing a sweatshirt even though it’s too hot to be comfortable in a T-shirt today. “No, I just wanted to come by and tell you something. I feel like you deserve to be the first to know my decision.”
