Thirty-Four
MIA
Oliver and I pull up to his house after a semi-quiet ride in the car.
He put on one of my playlist that he knows I love but the tension is ever present between us.
You can feel the uncertainty and fear of saying the wrong thing lingering.
But at the same time, it still feels right to be back at this home.
He once told me that his mom filled the walls with love and every time I am here, I feel that love even stronger.
Eli said that he didn’t see blood on Oliver during his fights but he must not have been looking hard enough because he has new cuts on his face and bruises decorating his body.
It would be normal collateral damage of a fight if he wasn’t already sporting so much wreckage to his body.
I watch his shoulders slump as I follow behind him.
We enter his kitchen and I go for the first aid kit that I know is under the sink.
Eli taught me the basics for making sure how to close up the cuts if they are too deep.
“You’re mad at me.” He keeps his voice calm, but I can still hear the unsteadiness in it.
I sit the first aid kit on the counter and a bowl of cherries appears next to it.
I look up at him silently before turning down the hallway to find a clean washcloth.
When I enter back into the kitchen I see him leaning against the counter nervously tapping his fingers on his skin where he has his arms crossed.
I move the cherries back to where he keeps them in the fridge.
“Now I know for sure you’re mad at me.” He says, leaning closer to me as I run the cloth under warm water ignoring him.
His usual charm is lacking its effect. I start laying out all the items from the first aid kit, making sure I have everything I need.
“Please talk to me.” I open my mouth to respond but I can’t think of the right words.
I want to ask him why he is acting like he hasn’t been on a suicide mission, getting his body rocked at every chance he has been given.
Tucker and the guys that set up the fights don’t care how hurt he is after each fight or recovery time.
They get paid every time he steps into that pool.
He does too but that’s not why he fights.
He fights because he doesn’t have to battle all the noise when he is in that element.
I turn on my heel to ask him to go sit down but he is already on his knees in front of me.
He looks up at me with his sad eyes and I almost fold. “What are you doing?” I sigh, the muscles in my face flirting with a smile at how he looks right now.
“Obviously trying to get your attention.” Damn his pretty brown eyes.
I grab the wash cloth and start dabbing away at the blood crusted on his skin. Resting one hand under his chin and moving it so I can see better, “I’m not mad at you.”
“Liar.” He whispers, still staring up at me.
I wipe away the last bit of blood from his lip before tossing the rag into the sink.
I twist to get the alcohol wipes and I feel his hand steady me at my thigh.
“Nice shirt.” He’s clearly trying to lighten the heaviness in the room and it’s working despite my efforts to maintain my frustration with him.
“Yeah, well someone ruined my favorite one. This one will have to do.” I hate that my voice sounds so small and quiet. I hate the quiet with every beat of my heart. That’s where every ounce of fear and uncertainty resides.
“I’m sorry.” He winces as I pat the open cuts with alcohol.
“No, you’re not.” I smile softly as I remember him intentionally pouring his perfectly good cereal over my shit.
His hand circles around my wrist and gently pulls my hand away as he says, “Not for the shirt, Mia.” I watch his chest rise and fall as he keeps rubbing small circles on the inside of my wrist. I pull away to grab a few butterfly bandaids and ointment before lowering myself down to the ground with him.
He stretches out his legs and pulls me in closer to him.
I take my time spreading the ointment over the cuts.
Only one needs to be pulled closed by the bandaid. I press the edges down securely.
Our faces are so close that I can feel his breath on the base of my neck as I lean up to double check his face making sure I didn’t miss anything. When I feel satisfied with my work, I sit back down cross-legged between his legs.
“I’m not sorry for bringing AJ tonight.” I look him in the eyes so he knows my confidence in the decision. I wasn’t sure before but after watching how she challenged him and controlled the entire situation, I knew calling her was the right thing to do. AJ is the glue to everything.
“I didn’t ask you to apologize for that. I don’t think you should ever apologize for being who you are. She’s your person.” He smiles grimly but still doesn’t look up at me. He just pulls my hand into his and starts massaging my palm. “I’m sorry I’ve been so far hidden in my own head lately.”
I duck my head to try and catch his eyes because this is the conversation that we’ve been needing to have and I prefer to see his face when he talks to me. “That’s not good enough, Ol. Talk to me.” I urge him as I take his hand in mine.
“Watching you with Cheryl at the gala was like seeing you through a snowglobe.” He swallows hard before wetting his bottom lip and wincing when he hits the cut there.
“You belong to this whole other world of people. Not because you have money.” He is quick to stop my argument before it leaves my lips.
“I get it.” He cups my cheek. “Money makes the world move. Even if it doesn’t define who you are.
And it doesn’t.” He runs his thumb softly across my cheek bone, “You’re so much more than anything I’ve ever seen.
” He moves in even closer and rests his forehead against mine, keeping his hand on the side of my face.
“It all makes so much more sense now. How smart you always are. How resourceful. You have a problem fixed before we even know it exists. You’re intentional with every conversation.
And you never stop moving. Like you’re afraid that if you stop for even a day, you’re not doing enough.
” My whole body is shivering from his words.
From the way they fill my bloodstream and keep me paralyzed.
“You’re so good. Everything about you bleeds love.
And I know you want to make a difference for those that need it.
And with your family connections you can.
” I feel him take a deep breath before continuing, “I can’t offer anything to make your world better, pretty girl.
” His next words are spoken so softly that they almost get lost in the limited space between us.
I pull back in shock and narrow my eyes at him.
“What are you talking about?” I’m more confused than before we started this conversation.
He finally looks up at me, “I want you in my life, Mia. In every single way. This place is too quiet without you. But you are designed for so much more than hanging out at a gym and watching some guy fight on the weekends. You need someone that will provide more than that.”
I can’t help the laughter that escapes. And once it leaves my lips I don’t even try to tame it.
Oliver looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, which is fair.
I tuck my hair behind my ear, “I don’t need you, Oliver.
I want you. There is a difference. I’ve trained myself to not depend on anyone in this world ever again.
I choose the people I want in my life now simply because it makes my soul more free by having them in it.
Not because of what they can do for me.” I realize that this is probably the harshest I have ever sounded to him.
But I’m not holding back. I’ve done that my whole life.
“But I want to be the one you depend on.” He sounds hurt but I don’t think he’s hearing what I’m actually saying.
“I don’t let myself depend on anyone.” I clarify, putting my feet flat on the ground to hoist myself up. He stays sitting on the cold kitchen floor, looking up at me.
“You asked me to talk to you.” He argues.
“This isn’t talking.” I motion to where I was just sitting with him.
“This is you feeling sorry for yourself. And I understand. I promise. Searching for purpose in the life you’re living is excruciating.
It attacks all your insecurities and feeds them.
But your purpose in life isn’t making mine better.
It can’t be. You’ll always be searching, Oliver.
And it’s not finding worth in what you provide me.
Because you’re right, you can’t give me anything that I don’t have.
Not materially. And I don’t say that to be conceited.
It’s just a fact. I have the money I need.
I make my own. I have my own dreams and goals and I’ve been grinding my ass off to get to where I don’t need anyone, not even my parents to make that happen.
So I need you to actually hear what I’m saying right now. ”
Tears are clawing at the corners of my eyes but I press on, “I will loyally stand in your corner but I will not be an accessory in your life.” I wipe at my left eye to clear the blurred vision.
He stays quiet for the longest time. We both do. So much resting between us.
“We complement each other because our hearts yearn in the same way.” I speak softly, putting everything I can behind the words. I leave him sitting on the floor and head to the spare bedroom. It’s too late to leave and he drove us here.