Page 27 of When There Was You
I rip off the covers and stalk around the loft, yanking on clothes, seething with thousands of pent-up, unsaid words.
Mick watches silently.
Here we are again. Hostage to Remy’s fuckups. Our life in limbo because he can’t get his together.
When is it going to end?
Part of me knows it’s unfair to take this out on Mick. He’s a good man. Of course he’s always going to show up for his friend. Butgoddamn him.Today, perhaps selfishly, I want him to chooseme. This isn’t our problem. Resentment ricochets in my head—Remy, first and foremost, but Sherry too. Isn’t this her area of expertise? How come she isn’t handling it? Helping him? I wonder if she regrets meeting him, falling for him, marrying him. It can’t be easy. It sure as fuck is raining on my parade on a regular basis. Ugly thoughts ripple through me as I wallow in the unfairness of it all.
Mick says nothing as he rises from the bed and pulls on his jeans. I clutch my stuff and hurry down the stairs. He stays quiet as he trails after me. Bitterness climbs my throat as I spy the unopened presents under the tree. I’m riveted to the spot, eyes glued to those gifts. Merry fucking Christmas.
I choke back a sob as Mick wraps his arms around me from behind. He buries his head in my hair.
“Don’t leave angry,” he murmurs. “Please.”
A sniffle escapes, along with a trickle of tears. “It’s not how I wanted the day to go,” I whisper.
He lets out a long breath, the warmth of it seeping into my neck. “Same, baby.”
Dropping everything in my arms, I turn and sink into him. We hold each tightly, as if neither of us wants to let go for fear we’ll break.
And we feel breakable. Vulnerable.
He shifts, the precursor to leaving, and my hands slide to his hips. He cups my face. Kisses me tenderly. He infuses all the love he has into that kiss, silently begging my forgiveness, my patience, my understanding.
I can deny him nothing. He has all of me.
I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.
We part and he stares at me intently. “I’ll call as soon as I can. And I’ll bring the gifts. We’ll open them in Oakland. Maybe you can come over to Mom’s tomorrow? You know she wants to see you.”
I nod. And of course I want to see his mom. We’ve only met twice, but I like and respect her so much. It’s hard to think about that right now, knowing the most important person in my life needs to track down Remy, who is God knows where. Hanging with his dealer buddies? Sleeping in the gutter? Worse?
“Be careful, Mick.”
He nods, but I’m not reassured.About anything.
Fourteen
It’s a long day of suffering, wondering what’s happening with Mick and Remy as I fake happiness for my parents’ benefit. They’re trying too and it’s almost macabre. But at least our interaction is easier now that we aren’t living in the same existence-suffocating house.
When my father suggests watchingA Christmas Carol,I jump at the chance to distract my thoughts. He uncorks a bottle of zinfandel and pours us each a glass as the movie begins. It may only be once a year when the three of us converge for this tradition, but recognition flickers warmly in my chest.
Despite knowing exactly how it ends, inevitable tears fall when Scrooge redeems himself.
We all deserve redemption, don’t we? I wonder if I’m charitable enough to believe Remy does too. I want to be.
I’m cleaning the dinner dishes, holiday tunes playing softly in the background, when the phone rings.
“I’ve got it,” I call out to my parents, who lounge in the living room in front of the fire as I dry my hands with a kitchen towel.
“Hello?”
“Hey,baby.”
Relief hurtles through me. “Are you alright?”
“Yes.” He sounds tense.
