“I was an animal, Mom,” I sighed into the phone, “It was like… I could see myself screaming and yelling and having this big fit, but I couldn’t do anything about it. The whole thing was crazy…”
“Oh, baby,” she cooed, “It’s okay… You were hurting and frustrated.”
“What if I had hurt her, Ma?” I whispered as though someone would hear me, “What if I actually hit her?” There was a pause on the other end and I knew she didn’t have an answer. I felt my stomach knot and a sickness suddenly washed over me.
What if I had become that man? What if I had raised my hand to a woman and broken the solid, gentleman ground that I stood on?
“I don’t think you could’ve done that…” my mother told me softly, “It’s not in you.”
“I threw glass cups and plates and even spoons at her… I grabbed her and slammed on the wall…” I closed my eyes tightly, trying to erase the memory. “She was so scared of me… I never saw her look at me like that.”
“Don’t do this to yourself,” my mama said as she breathed in and out deeply, “Look, she has taken advantage of you in the worst way possible. She takes your love for granted and she has broken your heart more times than you can count… I’m not saying what you did was acceptable, but it certainly was understandable and you cannot hold yourself responsible for everything. She pushed you to it.”
“That’s not good enough,” I argued, “I can’t justified what I did.”
“Well… what else are you suppose to do when somebody you love with all your heart tells you they don’t love you?”
“I don’t know…” I said, “Walk away?”
“How many times have you tried to do that?” She had a point. Even before Teresa said she didn’t love me, a part of me knew that she didn’t and I still didn’t walk away. And even when I did gather up some balls, one lick of her lips and swivel of her hips and my guard was down all over again.
“I know, but…” I couldn’t think of what to say, so I just breathed.
“I think that you have your answer now,” she told me, “You know that she doesn’t love you, so you have nothing to stay around for. Move on and forget about her.”
“It’s not easy…” I said, the ‘she doesn’t love you’ line repeating in my head.
“I never said it was, but, Justin, honey, you have to know that it’s easier than this.”
“This?” I asked, looking around my torn apart kitchen as I sat at the ketchup covered table.
“You’re kickin’ a dead horse when you could be ridin’ a stallion.” I smirked at her corky cliché before my face flattered.
“I know…” I told her, “But I really did love that horse.”
”Look, cow, I don’t know where you are, but when I find you, I’m kicking your ass.” I rolled my eyes at the voicemail as it continued. “And don’t roll your eyes ‘cause I’m serious… Rese, call me ‘cause I need to know you’re all right.”
I deleted Nicole’s message and turned on my side slowly so that I wouldn’t cause Shane to come barreling into the room so we could talk.
He had said he wanted to ‘discuss us’ and see if we could ‘fix what’s broken’ because apparently he discovered that I was something worthy of his time and attention while we were separated.
I told him I was tired and would talk to him in the morning. However, I’ve slept through morning and was doing a great job pretending to sleep deep into the afternoon. I would lie there and listen for him and whenever I sensed his presence in the room, I’d grow rigid. He’d call me and I’d sniffle and roll over as if I were completely out of it so that he’d leave.
It was bad enough I had to share a bed with him all night, but to not even have the chance to just lay awake in bed and stare at the ceiling was worse. All I wanted was some privacy so I could cry and not be asked if I was okay.
I didn’t deserve the worry. I didn’t deserve to even find the warmth of these sheets around me because Shane owned me nothing like I owned nothing to him. I had come to that conclusion last night in the mist of my lack of sleep. Shane and I were not good for each other. We were trying to make the other someone they weren’t and I couldn’t spend the rest of my life hurting and being hurt by someone I once loved.
Yes, that was past tense because I’ve come to the other conclusion that I didn’t love the Shane Callahan before me. I loved the man he was and I was clinging desperately to the hope that he was still in there rather than letting go and letting it be.
I’ve also narrowed down my apologies to two deserving people: Justin and Nicole.
The two people who have truly loved me through all the shit I put them through. The two who I know will hear my words and tell me it’s still okay. At least that’s what I hope.
All these deep thoughts ignited by the sounds of clashing plates and ketchup stains on my ex-lovers t-shirt.
It’s crazy what something so terrifying could do to a person.
If only I could express these thoughts without fear and hesitation.
If only.
“Hey, it’s about time,” Shane greeted as I finally dragged my ass out of bed, showered, and dressed. “You look good.”
“Thanks,” I said, standing at the other end of the table in my dark blue jeans, lacy black cami, and flip-flops.
“Sit down and eat something,” Shane offered as he stood. I put up my hand to halt his actions.
“I’m not staying long.” His face fell a little, but he smirked.
“Oh, are you heading to Nicky’s to pack your stuff?”
“No,” I said, “I’m not leaving Nicky’s.”
“Then… when are you coming home?” I shook my head and sadly sighed. Home. He said it like it actually existed.
“Shane… We need to talk.” I watched as he grew rigid when a bored expression crossed his features.
“It’s that Justin guy, isn’t it?” he asked, rhetorically, “You’re living with him.”
I almost laughed. “No, I’m really not,” I assured, “And this isn’t about anyone, but you and me.”
“Let me guess,” Shane said, “You need more time apart?”
“No.”
“You want to be with me but not move back in yet?”
“No.”
“You’re pregnant?” I laughed and shook my head.
“Hell no.”
“Then what?”
“Shane…” I sighed, “We can’t do this to each other.”
“Do what?”
“What we’ve been doing for years now…” I said, “All this back and forth stuff… All the cheating.”
“I’m not with that anymore,” Shane argued. “Seriously, after we separated, I did some thinking and I want to be with you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do!” he exclaimed, “I know what I want now.”
“Yeah, now,” I said, “In this moment, you can swear up and down that you only want me, but, Shane, I know you. This won’t last.”
“I love you, Teresa,” he told me genuinely, “I do and I want to prove it to you.”
“You love who I was and what we were, and so do I, but Shane… The reality is that those two kids in that photograph are memories. Decent, beautiful, unforgettable memories, but memories nonetheless.”
I watched he glanced over at the photo of us sitting on the coffee table in the other room. We were at the grand opening of my beauty salon. There were guest in the background, blurred away, and he and I in the center with balloons in my hands and a hot dog in his. It was a simple moment, but the simplicity is what made it so beautiful.
He shook his head, as if not believing me. “We can go back to that.”
“We can’t.”
“Not with you like this,” he barked, “Not with you fuckin’ around on me still.”
“Don’t you see?”
“See what?”
“This is gonna be us twenty years from now if we don’t end this here,” I said, “The same argument… The same blame game…” I paused and he stared at me as I stared back at him. “Is that what you want?”
“I want to work us,” Shane said earnestly, “I want to try and fix things ‘cause I’ve loved you since the beginning of puberty.” We laughed and our smiles slowly fell as the silence washed over us.
“I will love you forever, Shane,” I said, “I will… I can’t help it ‘cause you’ve been in my life for so long, but, baby, we’re not in love anymore. There’s no way two people can screw each other over this much and still call it love.”
“And this really isn’t about another guy?”
“I’d be lying if I said he had nothing to do with this, but he only gave me the boost I needed to do this.” Shane nodded. Silence came. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I tucked my hands deep in my pockets, ready to turn away and go until he spoke.
“Do you love him?” I blinked and looked away. I didn’t want to say it; not to Shane. Not before I told Justin myself.
“Did you love any of the girls you were with?”
“No,” he answered with a shrug, “I never let them get that close. Made it easier to leave ‘em behind.”
“Humph,” I huffed, “I wish I could’ve been that smart.”
“Or maybe I’m the dumb one,” Shane smirked, “At least you have someone to go to.” I shook my head. If only he knew.
“I don’t have anything right now,” I said, “Not you, not him, and not Nicole.”
“I don’t know about him, but you have me and Nicky.”
“I need to have me for a while… I’m too dependent, I guess.”
“So what are you saying?” I shrugged. What was I saying?
“I don’t know…”
“Well, you can stay here until you figure it out…”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause… You’re looking at me funny.”
“What?” he asked innocently.
“You’re looking at me like you always look at me when I’m trying to put my foot down.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m not joking…” I said, “Everything ends here. The emotional and the physical.”
“The physical part is what we do best.”
“Which is why the emotional part got fucked up.”
“My door’s always open, Tee,” Shane smiled, “That’s all I’m saying.”
“Shane… I just think I should go.” He nodded and stepped toward me. He held his arms open and I hesitantly stepped into them, allowing him to embrace me.
His scent, his warmth, and his strength enveloped me and I closed my eyes. I remembered how these arms used to make me feel safe and now they were just nice arms around me. Now I missed Justin and how his arms felt around me. Now I knew exactly where I wanted to be.
I just didn’t know how to get there again.
I dragged my sorry ass to work that night, skipping out on calling Nicole back after her sixth call and did hair like it was nobody’s business even though Tasha stopped me as I walked through the door and said that Nicole had come in looking for me earlier that morning.
My guilt rose, but I just told her we were fighting.
“Well, she sure looked sorry about it,” she had told me with a slight frown, “She looked like shit with poo on the side with all that worry on her face.”
Poo on the side was Tasha’s favorite phase and nobody bothered to question why. I hadn’t either because I walked away and swept the floor of the hair salon. My mind raced with thoughts of Justin for the rest of the night, even as I closed up shop and turned off the lights.
What was he doing? Who was he with? Did he really hate me now? Would he come after me and try and finish me off?
I really wouldn’t hold that against him, but a large part of me doubted that he’d actually do such a thing. In fact, I was sure he hated himself for the way he fought me. I could put a million dollars that he wanted to apologize and somehow get my forgiveness, as if I’d be so bold to allow myself to give it to him.
“Goodnight!” Tasha called over her shoulder as she slipped out the back door. I waved and it slammed shut like it always did, the sound reverberating through the now empty salon. I sighed to myself and walked over to the stairs that led downstairs. All the extra boxes of hair shampoos, cleansers, curlers, irons, and etcetera were down there, but I was in search of something else.
As I pushed aside the current that led to a laundry room for towels and such, I saw my gray, wool blanket folded neatly with a pile of hair towels. I carefully pulled it out and walked back upstairs. I fluffed the pillows on the waiting sofa that was at such an angle that nobody from outside could see it.
I didn’t want to look like that bum I was feeling like because of the utter embarrassment, so I made sure I pushed the sofa back a bit more before laying down. I set my cell phone alarm so I could be awake and washed up before anybody came in the morning. I sighed and closed my eyes before opening them again. I glanced over at the vanity mirrors that were dimly lit and caught sight of my reflection, confirming my suspicions.
I was pathetic. The girl who had everything (a little too much of everything) was now the girl with nothing that slept on her beauty salon’s sofa.
“You are gonna kill yourself.”
“Ninety-eight…”
“Dude, seriously, stop.”
“Ninety-nine…”
“Okay, that’s it.”
“One hun-,” I panted before Trace jumped up from his place on the aerobics ball and pushed me over.
“This is ridiculous!”
“Why’d you do that?!” I barked, “I was almost at a hundred.”
“You did enough already,” he said, “Fifty bench presses, a two hour run, one hundred sit ups, and now another hundred push ups? Are you insane?”
“I’m just working out,” I said quietly because it was a lie and it’s hard to lie to Trace, “I’m feeling out of shape.”
“You’re not on tour, man,” he said, trying to smile through all his concern, “You haven’t even in a week, so you’re not gaining any weight.”
“I’ve eaten!”
“Oh, excuse me, you did have half a bagel on Tuesday and how could I forget that bottle of Propel fitness water this morning during the run…”
“You sound like my mom,” I said to him, still struggling to breath as I lied on my back.
“It’s ‘cause I love your dumb ass,” he mumbled, which could only mean he was really concern. We know there’s love, but we never voice it that often, especially during our everyday conversations. He must think I’m dying.
“I’m okay, Trace,” I told him in a tone that didn’t even convince me, “Seriously… I’ll be fine.”
“I know, but I’m concerned about you not being fine now.”
“I stay fine,” I said with a smile, “I’m sexy, bitch.” Trace laughed lightly, but his small smile flattered.
“I think I’ll stay over tonight.” I made a sour face.
“What are we? Three?” I questioned, “We’re not kids. I’m not having a nightmare and need my buddy around to keep me talking until I fall asleep. I’m okay.”
“Maybe you do need me around,” he said, “When was the last time we had a sleepover thing, anyway?”
“My point exactly,” I said, “You have Elisha Cuthbert at your sexual beck and call and you want to sleep with me?” Trace laughed.
“Yeah… Which should tell you, my friend, that I’m serious.” I breathed out deeply as I regained a normal breathing pattern.
“Ugh,” I groaned as I picked myself up from the ground and placed my hands on my hips, “I guess it would be okay…”
“Dude, you know you want to sleep with me,” he winked at me and I grimaced.
“I think I know why you really want to sleep over…” We both laughed and I slapped his shoulder in my silent thank you because Trace was right. I could really use his company because I really did need to talk to somebody about something. Anything that I could will myself to say, or not say, and be heard.
Trace was good for that since he was guy and knew what I was thinking before I had to open my mouth and say a word. He understood a bit differently than my mother, though she knew me inside out, she was still a woman and needed more words to better understand me whereas Trace needed a groan, a ‘got damn it’, and a beer to get me.
“So…” Trace began as we walked out of my gym and down the hall toward the kitchen, “Who’s bringing the cookies?”
I smirked at him over my shoulder. “I think the answer to that is obvious, Mr. Easy Bake Oven.”
“Hey,” he said, “That was your Aunt Patty who thought your mom meant ‘Tracey’ instead of ‘Trace’ and sent me that god forbidden pink oven.”
“She sent a picture with that card,” I smiled, “She knew I was a boy.”
“Your name is Justin.”
“So?” I teased, “According to you, one letter could’ve been assumed to be missing. Maybe she could’ve assumed my name was Justine or Justina…”
“Justina?” Trace pretended to vomit and I nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, but Justine isn’t so bad…” I said, opening the fridge as we made our way into the kitchen and grabbed a cherry flavored Gatorade. “I might name my kid that.”
“And ruin her for life?” Trace shook his head sadly and I rolled my eyes.
“Justine…” I mumbled before unscrewing the cap of my juice. My mind floated to a beautiful baby girl and I saw her in the arms of Teresa, looking just like her with sweet soft skin and my curly hair. I frowned and took a gulp, wishing I were drinking vodka instead.
“It’ll get better,” Trace said, looking around the kitchen, probably remembering what everything I told him about the fight. “The kitchen’s clean and all it took was some TLC to help it get back to itself.”
I nodded and took his metaphor into consideration before I noticed a small ketchup stain on a leg of the kitchen table. All the beauty of the kitchen had suddenly disappeared because of that one spot, a flaw whose lack of cleanliness overtook everything.
It was almost like cancer.
“Yeah…” I mumbled before taking another sip, “A little TLC…”
