Her fists pummel my chest, and I let Dee get in several punches before I grab her wrists and force her around, pinning her back against me. She’s no delicate flower and she’s mad as hell. She bucks, fighting, testing the limits of my strength. Reasoning with her in this state won’t get me anywhere. All I can do is plant my feet firmly and hang on until Dee’s energy expends itself.
It takes a while before she finally wears herself out. When her body goes lax, I can feel the rise and fall of her chest against the band of my arm. Feel the trickle of tears. Hear the soft sobs of her heartbreak. Each one slices through me like a knife.
When I began to accept responsibility for the part I played in Dee’s leaving, my mind went as far as walking away from her, but it didn’t go to this. It served my conscience not to. What would seeing me with another girl have done to her? She was already riddled with insecurities and having second thoughts. It would have pushed her over the edge.
Now it all makes sense. Why she was angry when I showed up at her office. Why she lacked any compassion for Victor. Why she was afraid of trusting me again.
“I didn’t cheat on you in the way you think,” I say, my voice throbbing with the need to make her listen—to make her believe. “I was thrown for a loop when you told me you needed to figure stuff out. I should have tried to understand whatever was causing you doubts. But I couldn’t see beyond my own hurt feelings.
“For a week I stayed away and moped, hoping you’d call. I finally got sick of myself, but instead of putting aside my hurt and going to you, I threw a party. Victor warned me not to drink too much and do something I’d regret. But I wasn’t listening. I drank a lot that night, trying to forget you. It didn’t work. When Tamara followed me out onto the deck after a game of strip shots, which was how I lost my shirt, I had no interest in her. I just wanted to keep drinking myself into oblivion. She had other plans. I could have stopped her. I should have. I wasn’t that drunk. But the alcohol wasn’t dulling my thoughts of you, so I hoped something meaningless might.”
Dee gasps and I grab for breath myself. “It didn’t, Dee. When I closed my eyes, all I saw was you. It was your sweet mouth I was kissing in my head. Your soft body I felt. When I opened my eyes and reality hit, I was disgusted with myself. It didn’t go any further, I swear. I dumped her off my lap and told her to go back inside.
“I know what you saw, Dee. And words can’t express how sorry I am for the deed and that you witnessed it. I fucked up. I’ve let you down in so many ways. By keeping you a secret, I cheated you out of dates, out of taking you to the prom. Sneaking around was wrong. And the real irony of it all was that when I told Mama and Papa T about us, the only thing they were was disappointed that I had lied about it.
“And as for Victor, he didn’t see me that night. It was too dark. He came looking for me later and asked why Tamara had left upset. I couldn’t tell him. He might not have fully accepted our relationship, but you were his sister. If he thought I had done anything to hurt or dishonor you, he would have pulverized me. Whatever he was toasting had nothing to do with what you saw. Victor still doesn’t know.”
I ease her around then. Dee’s eyes are veiled by her long, wet lashes. “I was coming to you that night. I shut down the party early and ran over to your house, ready to do whatever it would take, anything to reassure you. But when I got there, you were already gone.”
I DON’T WANT TO HEAR this. Nothing is how I thought it was. Victor wasn’t an accomplice to Mick’s cheating. And Mick didn’t cheat. Not really. Not in the way I’ve let myself believe for the past fifteen years.
My behavior that night pushed him away. It was what I wanted. How can I blame him for seeking comfort in someone ready and willing after I rejected him without explanation? He didn’t set out to hurt me. There was no malice or betrayal. Just pain and wasted years…so many wasted years.
“I couldn’t go to New York without you,” he continues, unknowingly twisting the knife deeper into my heart. “I stopped writing. I stopped caring. Basketball was the easy choice. Fame and money. But none of it ever erased the memory of you, Dee. I knew the minute I saw you again that I’d never stopped loving you. I still love you.”
Hearing him say that…the magnitude comes crashing down on me like an avalanche…what I’d done to him…to my family…to my baby. I can’t breathe. I’m being buried alive. My lungs are being crushed. My nose and mouth are sealed. I struggle…gasping for air.
“Dee?” Mick’s voice sounds from a distance. Then I feel his arms go around my waist. I struggle against his embrace. “Breathe, baby. It’s okay. Stop fighting and take slow, deep breaths. That’s it,” he says. “Good…you’re doing fine.” Mick keeps his tone soothing, talking me through until my muscles relax and my lungs start to pump a steady flow of oxygen.
Exhausted, I sag against him. He lifts me into his arms as if I weighed no more than a rag doll and sits me down on the couch. “I’ll be right back.” He disappears into the kitchen and returns with a glass of water, which he makes me drink.
“I’m sorry,” I say. It’s woefully inadequate.
Mick takes the empty glass, sets it on top of the coffee table, and hunkers down in front of me, his gaze fastened to my face. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
He’s so wrong…so very wrong.
“Have you ever had an anxiety attack before?” he asks, his voice heavy with worry.
“Yes.”
“Do you take any medication?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ve had them under control for almost two years.” I’ve had most things under control for that long—or so I thought.
“They’re brought on by severe stress.”
“Um-hm.”
“Is it a coincidence that the one before this one occurred the same year I joined the Bulls and moved back to Chicago?”
When I don’t answer, he rubs his hand over his hair. “Jesus, Dee. I’m sorry to have been the cause then and again now.”
“It’s not your fault. This is all on me, so please stop apologizing and feeling responsible. I know I hurt you. I hurt my family. You should hate me.”
“No. You were scared, you were having doubts. I promised to be there for you and I wasn’t. When you saw me…” He shakes his head, as if to clear the picture. “I don’t hate you, Dee. I could never hate you.”
“Oh, God. You don’t know…you have no idea why you should hate me.”
