MIA
Maybe it was all the stress getting to me or the rumors or work. But after hearing his work colleagues talk as if I were some fuck toy to Michael, I felt like shit. I’d tried to not let it get to me, but as I walked through the crowd of people, I had seen those looks. Some from the older females, giving me nasty stares. Some from the guys—both old and young—ogling me.
Michael placed his hand on my lower back and guided me down the sidewalk toward the parking garage. “What happened?” he urged again when I didn’t respond the first time.
“Nothing,” I said, placing a hand on my stomach. “I just don’t feel too good. That wine made my stomach hurt.” It wasn’t a lie. I couldn’t finish the glass like usual. I just … it was disgusting for some reason tonight.
He grimaced like he didn’t believe me and opened the passenger door for me. I scooted into the car and stared out the windshield. I licked my dry lips, my knees bouncing wildly. He sat next to me and glanced over.
By the look on his face, I could tell that he wanted to say something, that something had happened with him too. But instead of saying anything, he started the car and drove us home. It was a short, quiet ride. I leaned my head against the seat and watched the buildings turn into trees and the bright city skyline be replaced by the natural light of the moon and stars.
When he pulled into the driveway, he shut off the car and turned to face me. “What happened?” he asked again, pushing a strand of hair from my face.
My lips quivered, and I begged myself to not let any tears fall, but one did.
“Am I some fresh young pussy to you?” My words came out weak and frail, and I felt so stupid as soon as they left my mouth.
But, damn, did rumors really get to me. That was what they did. They tore you down until you started to believe them yourself despite knowing better.
Michael got quiet, hand tightening on my thigh. “Who said that to you?”
I gulped and turned to him, eyes glossy. “Am I?” I asked, words no higher than a whisper.
“Of course you’re not,” he said, grasping my chin and forcing me to stare into his eyes. “You should know better than to ask that. I love you more than anything. I have never and would never treat you as an object.”
My frown deepened. “I know.”
At that moment, so much guilt washed over me, and I thought about breaking up with Michael. Not because he was a bad guy. Not because he had done something wrong. Not because I didn’t love him. But because … I was so fucked up. I had so many insecurities that I hadn’t even known existed, and I wanted to work on myself to be a better me, so I didn’t annoy Michael or fuck him up too.
“If you know, then why are you asking?”
My heart hammered against my chest. “Can I be honest with you?”
He gave me a hardyou know you canstare. “What is it?”
“I love you so fucking much. It scares me. I think that one day, you’ll see how insecure I am and want to leave me. I feel like I’m not good enough for you even though you tell me I am every day. I’m scared of loving you this much, Michael. I … I’m so fucked up from my last relationships. I don’t want to fuck you up too.”
He tilted his head. “You think I’m not fucked up? Do you think it didn’t take me years to heal from Linda? I know how you’re feeling. I know you feel desperate and alone, afraid that I’m going to leave you because you think you’re worthless. It’s a shitty feeling.”
There was silence for a few moments, and I gathered all my courage to speak. “What happened with Linda? I know she’s kind of … well, you know. But why’d you really get a divorce?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
His entire body tensed, and he pulled away from me, staring out the windshield at the white wooden fence in front of us. “We weren’t the best kids in school, got in trouble often, shit like that. We were young when she got pregnant. Still in high school, had our entire lives ahead of us, and didn’t know how we were going to raise a kid. When Melissa was born, I dedicated my time to her and to giving her a better life. I went to college, and Linda stayed home and turned to alcohol.”
He took a deep breath. “It wasn’t until five years in that I admitted to myself that she had a problem. I thought I could fix it. I let her take her anger out on me, so she wouldn’t yell at Melissa. I let her talk down to me, tell me I wasn’t good enough, verbally abuse me … but I stayed because I didn’t want Melissa to come from a broken home. She was still young, and at the time, Linda still cared about her.
“But as time went on … she slipped deeper into alcohol. Started doing drugs. Took our money we’d saved for Melissa’s college and gambled it away. It was bad, and I couldn’t take it anymore. She didn’t care about Melissa, so I divorced her.”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I had fallen out of love with her within the first five years, but I’d stayed because I wanted Melissa to feel loved. I should’ve left with her. I shouldn’t have kept Melissa in that environment where that kind of abuse was the norm. If I had a second chance, I’d do it differently.”
There was so much hurt and anguish in his voice. I rested my hand on his thigh and squeezed, showing him that I still loved him, no matter what had happened. I didn’t know what to say though; it all brought back bad memories of Dad.
“All I wanted to do was hurt people like Linda hurt me. I self-sabotaged all my relationships, all the flings I had with other women after her. Didn’t trust them not to hurt me. Didn’t think that anyone could really love me for me. I thought they were all like her …”
“And then?”
“And then I met Julie,” he said, one hand on the steering wheel.
Something tugged in my heart, and I knew I could never break up with him. I couldn’t bear to have him with anyone else. This man was everything to me, and he was mine. I’d have to work on myself by myself, but I could still love Michael. It would take time to heal.
