4. Micah
4
MICAH
I couldn’t bring myself to tell John I brought the divorce papers with me. I don’t want to disappoint him. Or maybe he’ll disappoint me by not batting an eye when he agrees with the joint filing. It doesn’t need to be joint, neither did our separation, but it’s better if we work toward a resolution together.
I don’t know what we’ve been thinking these past few years. Obviously, we’re not the only couple living separate lives but still married. I’ve met plenty in Hollywood. People get busy or try to avoid a painful reality. For me, it’s both. John could’ve taken the matter into his own hands at any time by filing his own paperwork, but he never has.
And maybe I’m secretly grateful because seeing my first love again made me weak in the knees. He’s always had that effect on me. John McCoy will likely be my one and only love, but it’s time to let him go. He sent me on my way eight years ago, and I never got my big break, so now I’m returning, tail between my legs, to clean up the mess I made—and my grandfather’s mess in the process.
Rosie is outside the house when I arrive, searching through boxes of junk she’s carried out to the driveway. She seems as confounded by the process as me. Of course, she doesn’t need to stay or help with any of this, but I can tell she needs to. I can read the shock in her features over his sudden death. If they’d grown as close as I suspect over the years, she needs to work through stuff of her own.
I exit my car and step toward her. “Do you know of a newer resident by the name of Aaron Edwards?”
“No, why?”
“Apparently, he refurbishes houses. I think I’m going to ask for his help.” I glance at the other boxes she’s brought out. “Once the clutter is cleared.”
“That may take another century,” she replies with a sad smile.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “What was he like toward the end?”
“Same as always. Grouchy but generous. He liked to eat well and would tell me to take the extra food home.”
That tracked. Griggs Malone might’ve been unapproachable, but he would give you the shirt off his back if you were in need. He took me in without batting an eye. But there, at least, I also suspected underlying guilt about how his own flesh and blood had treated me.
“The day before I found him…” She motions as if unable to say the word. “He had an accident.”
I stiffen. “What do you mean?”
“He decided not to use his walker to get to the bathroom and fell in the hall.”
“Was he hurt?”
“Not any worse than other times. But he did say he felt a bit dizzy. I told him I’d get him to the car to take him to an ER or call an ambulance, but you know how he was.” She gives me a pointed look. “I checked all his vitals and for any bumps and bruises, and he promised me he’d let me take him if he still felt the same in the morning.”
No doubt, he shouted or threatened to dock her pay if she made too much of a fuss.
She swipes at a stray tear. “I shouldn’t have listened to him.”
“Hey, let’s not play the blame game, or I’ll start too about not coming into town more often. As it was, he wouldn’t take most of my calls.”
It was just as well because every time we talked, he would ask me if I’d made it big yet, in a way that caused me to feel foolish and inadequate. It was his way of disagreeing with my life choices, but that was always the case.
She nods. “He became more and more secluded, cranky, and didn’t want to be bothered. Asked me to keep in contact with you.”
She lifts a small statue of an angel from the box and gazes at it with fondness. Obviously, remembering one thing or another.
“Feel free to take what you want. Unless he discussed his final wishes with you?”
“He did,” she admits, and my heart clenches. “He wanted you to have the house and do whatever you liked with it—though he figured you’d sell it. The boat too.”
“The boat?” He’d bought it for personal use and fishing competitions. I loved spending time on that boat. “He kept it?”
“It’s in storage.”
“Where?”
“Same place. Near the docks.”
“Okay, I’ll take a look.” I meet her gaze. “And what about for you?”
“Me? I was only his employee.” She waves me off. “Sure, he made promises to pass on this or that, but I think that was the beginnings of his dementia talking.”
“Or maybe it wasn’t. You were with him for years. It’s obvious you’d grown close. I’m sorry for your loss too.”
“I…thank you. I’ll miss the old grouch, but I’ll find employment again.”
“I can be a reference since you worked for my grandfather for so long,” I tell her, and she nods appreciatively.
“Did he mention what he wanted to do with his ashes?”
“He had explicit instructions,” she replies, setting down the statue. “No ceremony. Only someone in charge of spreading them in the ocean—using his boat.”
Makes sense. My grandfather loved the water. Missed it.
I feel a lump in my throat the whole time we work on clearing out the stacks of magazines and newspapers. A couple of front pages catch my eye—historical times in our country, then more local headlines, like the year of the tsunami and the frogs falling from the trees. I smile at that memory because it’s ridiculous. None of my LA friends would believe that story.
I use the term friends loosely. There’s my current roommate and his fiancée, and I’ve formed connections in the restaurant and movie business. We hang out after work or between auditions, but none of it feels like the deep tie I have to John or his family. When his parents and brother-in-law died in the boating accident, I returned to show my support—and grieve too.
Since that last time, I haven’t brought up the divorce. It hasn’t seemed important, not unless one of us got serious about someone else, and so far, that hasn’t happened. Sure, I get my needs met with men and women when I’m in the mood for a hookup. Though it’s definitely not the first thing on my mind. John and I agree that a legal separation means we’re free to explore or date, but whenever I think about him with someone else, I feel sick to my stomach.
It’s fucked up but not fair of me, and I can’t help thinking I’m holding him back. That’s the other reason I brought along the divorce papers. I want to set him free like he did me so many years ago.