52
CHRIS
E CAME HOME from Michigan after three amazing days.W I was glad we went out of town. Made some memories that didn’t have to do with Mike or the friends I didn’t have anymore. I needed it more than I thought, and I think Larissa knew that.
It had been two months now since Larissa and I were a couple.
It was the best and worst two months of my life.
I fell more in love with my girlfriend than I could have ever imagined.
Our relationship was like a rip cord being pulled. Once we didn’t have to hold it back, everything just flowed. We were natural together. I got to be in love with my best friend. I woke up smiling every morning and I had to pinch myself that I got to live with her and hold her and kiss her. I didn’t think I would ever get tired of it. To be able to pull her to me and show her affection and tell her how I felt.
It would be perfect if not for the rest of it.
Twenty-five years of friendships, gone. My village, gone. It was really over.
My life lost its seasons. The milestones of the year, birthdays and celebrations, annual traditions and trips. It was like I’d taken a spaceship to the moon. I wasn’t alone, Larissa had come with me, but it was still the moon.
Larissa and I took Woofarine on long walks. Cooked together. We delivered her first graze table order and read and watched shows cuddling in bed. After that graze table order, she got two more from guests at the event. We had Lexi and her boyfriend over for dinners. A few weeks ago, we had a long phone call on speaker with Nancy so she could tell us about her breakup with Phil. She was sleeping on the sofa of a coworker in a crappy apartment in South Dakota now. She hinted that she wanted to come
back, asked about the guest room.
I was open to anything Larissa wanted to do. My house was her house now, and Nancy was her mom. But Larissa shut it down immediately. She told me later that it was time both of them went through a different door than the one they came in through.
We wallpapered the living room and we even got out and sat in a little café in a corner where no one could see us and I bought her a lavender matcha latte just because I could. We had wonderful moments when we laughed so hard we cried.
It was a strange juxtaposition of pure happiness and total loss.
In the midst of all this—or maybe because of it—I decided to make some changes. The first one was to get out of retail pharmacy. I applied for a position at Royaume Northwestern Hospital and I got it. It paid more, and I would never have to get yelled at by customers ever again. I put in my notice at Bergmans.
I couldn’t say that I was going to miss it, but it was definitely the end of an era. It felt weird to move on, to work in a place my mom would never know about. To have a relationship and fallings-out I’d never get to tell her.
It was like I’d shed a skin and I was a different person, and she’d never get to see the me of now, and I grieved that too. But that’s life when you go through a different door than the one you know. You end up somewhere new.
My two weeks flew by and before I knew it, it was my last day at the pharmacy. I was behind the counter, filling a prescription, watching the last half hour tick down, when Waylon popped his head around the corner.
“Dude, somebody just took a dump right in front of the register.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course they did. I cannot wait to be done,” I mumbled. “Do you need help?”
“Already cleaned it, but the new guy threw up in the corner.”
“Ha.”
His introduction to retail pharmacy. I remembered my first week.
“Hey, so someone’s here to see you,” he said.
I glanced up. “Me? Larissa?”
“Nah. Some guy. One of your friends, I think. Seen him before.”
I froze. My mouth went immediately dry.
“Okay,” I said. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”
Waylon left and I stood there a moment. It could be anyone. Jesse.
Maybe Xavier was in town and was tired of me not answering his calls?
But it wasn’t. I think I knew that before I even came out.
When I turned the corner, Mike was standing there.
“Hey,” I said, coming to a stop behind the counter.
“Hey.”
I hadn’t seen him in more than four months.
He looked different. He was in his Toilet King work shirt. He’d lost weight, but he was just leaner. Still toned. He looked good. He looked healthy.
“I didn’t know you were coming in,” I said, not really knowing what
else to say.
“Picking up a prescription.”
“Oh.” I started typing his information into the computer. Then I stopped when I realized that for the first time in twenty-five years, I didn’t know his address.
“I’m at 5623 Fern Glen Drive,” he said, reading my mind. “Apartment 109.”
“Thanks.” His medication loaded on the screen. “You’re back on the antidepressants,” I said, looking up at him.
“Higher dose. It’s working. You were right.” He gave me a weak smile.
“It’s not ready yet,” I said. “Fifteen minutes.”
“I can wait.”
I put the order through. Then we just stood there. Me on my side of the counter in a white lab coat. Him on his side in a navy-blue Toilet King T- shirt.
“Is this your closest pharmacy now?” I asked.
“No. You said you wanted to make sure I was taking my meds. Thought I’d start filling my prescriptions here. Now that I’m actually taking my
meds.”
I gave him a look. “You weren’t?”
“Nah. I was filling them here. Wasn’t really following doctor’s orders
though. They work better when you take them.”
I laughed a little.
“Hey, I was wondering if we could talk really quick,” he said. “When you get off.”
“Um… sure. I’m not off for another half hour though.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for you outside.”
He started for the front of the store.
“Mike?”
He turned around.
“What do you want to talk to me about?”
He paused like he wasn’t sure what to say.
“I think you know.”
I drew in a deep breath. Okay. So he knew.
I watched him walk out of the store.
When I came out half an hour later holding his prescription, I’d mostly come to terms with the conversation I expected we were about to have. And I’d decided on one thing.
I was going to answer any questions he asked me. I wouldn’t sugarcoat it and I wouldn’t lie. I would own it and I would admit it. I owed him at least that.
His truck was parked next to my car and he was sitting at a picnic table under a blossoming crab apple tree.
I crossed the parking lot and made my way onto the grass and had a seat next to him on the bench. Then we just sat there, saying nothing.
There was a busy street in front of the store. We studied the cars coming and going. Watched people line up in the drive-through at the coffee shop in the center across the way.
“I knew it was you who cleared the snow off her car,” he said.
I turned to him. “What?”
“I knew,” he said, looking at me. “Worst thing of all, I knew if I didn’t do it, you would. I let you do it. It could have been me, but I didn’t show up for her. I didn’t do the work.” He looked away from me back at the highway. “I know you guys are together—you don’t have to tell me.” He put up a hand. “I’ve known you my whole life. I know you even when
you’re not talking to me.”
I didn’t reply.
“I’m not even mad. I always knew you were better for her,” he said. “I didn’t do shit to change it. I could have, but I didn’t.” He laughed a little.
“Hell, I think I even pushed you together. Made you fill in for me when I dropped the ball. I made you sing karaoke with her. I couldn’t even do
that.”
He went silent again.
“I only want her to be happy,” he said quietly. “I love her enough to want that for her. And I know for her, that’s you. It’s always been you. I don’t blame you for falling in love with her. I don’t blame her for falling for you either. I love you both, so I get it.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Neither of us wanted to hurt you.”
He smiled weakly and looked down at the grass. “I miss her. And it sucks. I’m not gonna lie to you and tell you I haven’t had some pretty fucked-up days the last couple of months. But I have been sober for them.”
He laughed dryly. “That’s the hard part. The shit they don’t tell you, having to deal with it without the thing that helps you deal with it.” He let out a long, slow breath. “It’s like I panicked, you know? I wanted so much for us to work, I hit all the buttons—including the self-destruct one. I did it to
myself. My therapist says—”
“You have a therapist?”
“Yup. She’s good. I like her. You were right about that. I did need it. She says I’m dealing with feelings of inadequacy,” he said, changing his tone to sound like hers. “Unresolved grief from senior year. She’s probably right. I never did figure my shit out after the injury.” He pulled a leaf off the tree and rolled it absently between his fingers. “Was just sort of hoping it would
work itself out without me. It didn’t.”
We stared out at the cars.
“So how is she?” he asked, not looking at me.
I shrugged. “She’s good. Her business is doing great.”
He smiled. A genuine smile.
“Good. I always knew she’d do something big. She’s smart like you.”
“I heard you’re not talking to your mom,” I said, changing the subject.
He huffed a laugh. “Or my sister. Tony keeps trying to convince me to have dinner at the house and I’m like, nah. I really didn’t know they were
acting like that.”
“I know.”
“My mom’s a trip sometimes. I don’t get her. And I have no fuckin’ idea what Janessa’s problem is.” He tossed the leaf onto the grass.
“She’s always kind of been like that,” I said.
“Ha. No kidding.”
“How is it working for Tony again?” I asked, looking at him.
“It sucks. He’s got me on the night shift.”
“Ouch,” I said.
“The 1-800 emergency line. Midnight to nine a.m.”
“Do you get a lot of calls?”
He shrugged. “Not really, but when I do, it’s always a shitshow.
Literally. It’s brutal. I’m just now gettin’ used to it.”
“He didn’t have anything else?”
“Not for full-time. At least that’s what he says. I think he’s trying to teach me a lesson or something.” He puffed air into his cheeks. “I have a coworker who gives me crap. I’m dealing with that.”
“Why’s he giving you crap?”
“She. For fun, I think.” He looked over at me. “You know, nobody hates
you.”
“Really?”
“Oh, they’re pissed at you for sure. But they don’t hate you. You should call them up. I think Xavier would like to hear from you.”
“And Jesse?”
He bobbed his head. “He’ll come around. If I’m not mad, he can’t be
mad, right?”
“Does he know?”
He shrugged. “I think everyone kind of figured out what was happening by the way you were acting. The birthday thing just confirmed it. That really sucked, by the way. We broke a streak. Twenty-five years.”
I gave him a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.
“I’ve been a pretty shitty friend,” he said, almost to himself.
“Ha. Same.”
“Nah. You were always there for me.” He nudged me. “You put up with a lot. I want you to know I see that. And I think you needed me when your mom died and I was just in my own fucking world. I just couldn’t handle anything else and I loved her, too, you know? She was like an aunt to me. It wasn’t easy on me either. But I should have sucked it up. Let you tell me
what you needed to.”
I puffed out my cheeks. “It wasn’t really fair to dump it on you if you weren’t in a place to hear it.”
“Yeah, but I could have told you that. I could have at least let you know I gave a shit. I just left you with it, and I knew I was doing it. It was like I was embarrassed to admit that I couldn’t deal with it, so I just avoided talking about it. I was always doing that, it was so fucking dumb. I couldn’t just say the uncomfortable thing out loud. Like with Larissa. I couldn’t even say, hey, I can’t afford this expensive-ass restaurant your mom wants to go to. I just let her take me and then I can’t pay the bill and then I’m taking it out on you because you have to save me—and you would never have gotten in that situation in the first place because you would have just said the hard thing.”
“I think if you would have told me it was difficult to talk about my mom because you missed her, too, it would have made me feel a lot less alone. I wish you had.”
He stared out over the grass. “After everything happened and I was just by myself and I thought, is this what it was like for him? Nobody to talk to?
Nobody to give you advice or tell you if you’re being an idiot or to just listen?” His jaw ticked. “To be honest, I didn’t realize how much you were there until you weren’t. I’m sorry. I let you down, and I really am sorry.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
We were quiet for a long moment.
“You know what I realized in all this?” he asked.
“What?”
“She’s not the great love of my life.” He looked me in the eye. “You
are.”
A lump bolted to my throat.
He sniffed and blinked out at the cars. “You know what she told me?
The day she broke up with me? I told her I could change and she said good.
Change for somebody else. I am gonna change. For you. Even if you never talk to me again, just know it’s for you. I’m going to be okay. I’m gonna make you proud. Don’t feel guilty, don’t feel bad. Just have a good life.”
Tears stung my eyes.
He nudged me again and I looked at him. And for the first time in a long time, I saw the old Mike. The one I’d been missing.
He got up and I stood. He came over and gave me a hug.
“I love you, McNougat,” he whispered.
“I love you too.”
When he let me go, his eyes were red. “Do me a favor, yeah? Call Z. Do it today, okay? If he wants to hang out, hang out. Take Larissa so Samantha isn’t a third wheel. Get Jesse’s ass out of the house, too, tell him to bring Becca. I probably won’t come—graveyard shift. But you guys get together.
All right? I’m gonna tell them you’re calling. Don’t forget.”
I nodded and swallowed down the knot in my throat.
He gave me one last look. “You ever need someone to talk to, you can call me. I’m ready to listen. Maybe not about her—but anything else and
I’m here.”
I nodded. “All right.”
He smiled. “See you around.”
He turned for his truck and I watched him make his way across the parking lot, the highway humming behind me.
“Mike…”
He turned around.
“You want to make me proud?” I called. “You just did.”
I watched the slow smile move across his face. He winked at me. Then
he turned and kept walking.
And that was it.
The end of something. Or the start of something. New and better.
Healthier.
I thought all this time that I was helping him, carrying his load. But in the end I had to drop it for him to decide to carry it himself. And he was.
Mike chirped off his alarm. He was almost to his door when I saw the car pull into the lot. He noticed it a second after me and we both froze.
Larissa was here.
She hadn’t been coming to my work for the last few months, part of our attempt to keep our relationship private. She didn’t call me to tell me she was coming.
We watched her park and when she got out and locked eyes with Mike, I half expected her to turn and go back home. She’d kept him blocked, didn’t want to see him. But she only paused for a moment before shutting her door and closing the distance between them.
They stood there next to his truck talking for a few moments. I gave them their space and I was too far away to hear what was said. When they were done, she hugged him. Then Mike got in his truck wiping under his eyes and drove off.
“What did you talk about?” I asked as she made her way over to me.
“He apologized,” she said. “And I accepted it.”
She stopped in front of me. “He told me to take care of you. And I gave
him some advice.”
“What advice?”
“I told him to take the exit that makes the most sense. Not the door he knows.”
I smiled a little and she wrapped her arms around my waist and hugged me.
“Why did you come?” I asked, tucking her head under my chin.
“I don’t know. Something told me you needed me. Trauma bond.”