Page 12 of Worth the Fight

He pauses then, tilting his face to the side. “It’s hard to say, honestly. I can’t imagine that Ronaldo would ever hurt me to the point where we’d call it quits.”

“I never thought Lukas and I would have been in that place, either.”

“But I hate what he did. I hate how sad you were.” He scoots forward, pulling my hands from my lap and holding them. “I don’t ever want to see you that low again. I know you don’t want to ever be that low.”

I nod at that. “I don’t think I’d survive losing him a second time.”

His eyes water, just the slightest bit, and he looks out the window, letting the sun warm his skin.

“I think the craziest part was how easy it was for him to get under my skin. We haven’t talked in over a year, Raymond, an entire year. A lot happens in a year, and for the most part, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” My career has been completely transformed over the last twelve months. Without Lukas, ballet was the only thing I had left to focus on, and I threw myself into it, letting my busy schedule soothe the ache that he left. The loneliness that tried to shake me to my core. “I’m at the pinnacle of my career right now, and for the most part, I’m having the time of my life.”

“Are you?” he challenges, and my fake smile starts to slip.

“It only took one phone call, Raymond. One second into one call, and hearing his voice pulled me right back in. It nearly undid everything. It’s not fair…” I choke on the words, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from bursting into tears. “I thought I could be over him, but am I really, though, if that’s all it took?”

“Class!” Madame Moreau waltzes in, clapping her hands twice to gather our attention.

Raymond stands, reaching a hand down to pull me up with him. I clasp his hand, and he tugs, grunting as he pulls me up.

“I see why you don’t know,” he whispers from the corner of his mouth. “I guess, well, what was your gut instinct when he called? When you listened to his message, were you angry? Did you want to tell him off and toss your phone, or were you sad? Curious? Did you almost call back?”

“All of the above.” I fell to the ground in a puddle and cried. Cried so hard I could barely catch my breath. It reminded me of how it felt when I’d miss a call from him when he was deployed. I would race to check my voicemail and close my eyes as I listened to him talk, pretending that he was here, that he was lying in bed next to me, his arms holding me tight. His lips pressed to my ear as he spoke.

“I felt a whole lot of things the first time he called, but now…” I turn to face him. “I’m still angry. I still want to scream at him and cry, and there’s a twisted part of me that wants him to be as upset as I am, to hurt him as much as he’s hurt me, but I’m curious, Raymond.”

“I don’t think that’s twisted,” he whispers from the corner of his mouth. “I think that makes you human. You’re not a spiteful person, Magnolia. You and I both know you could never intentionally hurt him, even after what he put you through.”

The tears are back again, threatening to burst before Madame Moreau even starts the warmup music. “But am I weak, then? Am I weak for still being curious to hear what he has to say? Wouldn’t a stronger woman be able to hold her ground?”

Raymond looks over at me, squeezing my hand once before he bends to pull his flats from his bag. “No. I don’t think it means you’re weak. I think that it just shows how much you loved him at one point. I think the biggest question is, are you curious because you’re a good person and are thinking of the history you have and feel obligated to hear him out, blah, blah, blah.” He taps his fingers together like a puppet. “Or are you curious because even though you don’t want to admit it, maybe some of those feelings never left?”

My gut reaction is immediate, and Raymond catches the expression on my face. “I think you have your answer then, girl.”

CHAPTER 8

Lukas

DECEMBER

“Hey, this is Magnolia. Sorry I missed your call. Leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Hey, Mags, it’s Lukas. Just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. Thinking about you a lot lately, as usual. I … um, I also wanted to tell you that I’m five months sober today. It’s uh … it’s been a rough five months, if I'm honest. A lot has happened, both good and not so good, but I feel like I’m a new person. A new man, and I’m proud of myself. I don’t know how to explain it, really. I’m back living at the farmhouse with my parents. I don’t know if I mentioned that before. I had a rough go of it in my apartment by myself, so it’s good to be around people. I’ve been back nearly a year, and I’m still adjusting to being around my family. They changed so much while I was gone. I um…” I pause, trying to figure out how to word what I want to say.

“I’m still working with a therapist, and she’s having me deep dive into how I was before the military. Kind of making me realize some things, like it wasn’t the military necessarily that made it hard for me to communicate. I don’t think I was ever good at it, to be honest. You always had to work harder than normal to get me to talk when I was upset about something. She pointed out that I’ve always been one to shut down, to go silent when shit gets hard, and that isn’t right. It wasn’t right of me, Mags, to make you work so hard to reach me. So, I wanted to say I’m sorry. I don’t know if a simple sorry is enough, but if you could give me a chance, if you wanted to call back, I’d like to tell you more. More of why I needed to work on myself.” I laugh awkwardly, the silence on the other line deafening.

“More of why you were right about so many things. I’ll bet you never thought I’d say those words, hey? But I’m trying to grow, and part of my growth is admitting I fucked up. I’m ashamed of some of the things I said to you, Mags, and if there is any way I can undo the hurt, I’ll do it, I swear.”

CHAPTER 9

Lukas

JANUARY

“Hey, this is Magnolia. Sorry I missed your call. Leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Hey, Mags, it’s me. It’s late here, nearing two in the morning, but I’m thinking about you, like usual. I was watching some performances again last night. Saw one called Lady Macbeth; do you remember having read that book in high school? Mr. Hunt probably would have failed me on that assignment if it wasn’t for you.” Our sophomore year was spent reading Shakespeare’s most popular works. Each of us was given a yellowed paperback that had seen its fair share of use, and when I looked up at Mags, expecting her to be looking at me so I could roll my eyes, she was staring at the book in her hands, running her fingertips over the worn spine. She was in awe, and when I came to school the next week not having read the required chapters, well, having tried to read them, but the words were written in such a way that I got more confused by each chapter, she insisted on helping me.

That was the first time I took her to the old farmhouse. I was too embarrassed to be at the school library or at home, having Mags explain the basics of Shakespeare to me. We sat on the porch of the old farmhouse, and Mags read the passages out loud. It wasn’t the worst story I’d ever heard, but it wouldn't have been my favorite if it wasn’t for the way Mags read it.