18. Micah
18
MICAH
Are we really doing this? It’s early morning, and we’ve traded yawns, but as we get on the highway, it feels as natural as it always did. Foreign too, though, because we’re driving toward the life I’ve created away from John and Aqua Vista.
“We need some tunes,” John declares. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on a road trip.”
I fiddle with the buttons, navigating to the closest radio broadcast, which is some pop song, and when he starts singing, I join in, off-key.
He pretends he has a microphone, and we laugh as we continue hamming it up for the whole song. It definitely lightens the tension between us, as well as the mood regarding the end result this trip might bring—our divorce.
As we drive by stunning ocean views, I think about how connected we all were as kids. “Remember that time we took our paddleboards out and Cain broke away from June and came running toward the water, begging to take him with us?”
“Uh-huh. That was only the beginning of his obsession with the water and wanting to surf,” he muses.
“Does that mean we egged him on by convincing his parents he’d be safe with us?”
He chuckles. “Maybe so. But I have a feeling if it wasn’t us, it would’ve been someone else. Anyone who would help him get out there.”
“True. Guess some people really do have a calling.”
He’s quiet a moment before he asks, “Do you think you do?”
“I don’t know. Being back on the pier the last couple of weeks makes me wonder what would’ve happened had I not cheated in the competition and been thrown out.”
He stifles a gasp. “Do you think you would’ve followed in Grandpa Malone’s footsteps?”
I hitch a shoulder. “I really can’t see it, but maybe?”
“Being a fisher is a hard life,” John points out, and I nod. “Is that why you did it? You thought it would help your grandfather somehow?”
I rub the ache above my breastbone. I haven’t thought about my motivation in a long time. “Something like that. His boat needed repairs, and he’d had a rough year on Calamity Jane due to the long drought. But mainly, it was impulsive. I was mad at the world and didn’t consider the consequences.”
One of the worst mistakes in my life. Leaving John was one too, but I didn’t see any alternatives other than being miserable. And like it or not, that would’ve affected him too. Maybe even more than my actual leaving.
The hours tick by as we reminisce and debate random topics. He tells me how he’s included not only an annual fish fry but also a summer rib fest on the back patio of his bar. He sounds happy, his business is thriving, and it makes me realize he’s right where he’s always belonged. In Aqua Vista with his family and their roots. I have roots there too, but they certainly don’t run as deep, not with my upbringing.
About four hours into the trip, I notice an exit sign with different amenities. “Want to stop for a restroom break?”
“Sounds good. Would be nice to stretch my legs.”
We pull into a fast-food restaurant and park near the door. “Nothing like junk food on a road trip.”
“The calories don’t count.”
We devour burgers, fries, and sodas before getting back on the road.
By the time we pull into Los Angeles County limits, it’s nearing dinnertime and congested. It takes forever to find an empty spot on the street near my apartment building, and it’s obvious we’ve both had enough of being stuck in a car. I see the stress lines on his forehead relax when I finally cut the engine.
“Well, at least you have more options around here than at your last place,” he says as he checks out the stores and restaurants within walking distance. I relocated to a much less sketchy place a few years ago, on La Brea, on the outskirts of West Hollywood. “Looks like you’re moving up in the world.”
I can only afford to rent a room, and I don’t have my own garage space, so I know he’s only being generous. “Don’t do that.”
John releases the grip on his bag. “What?”
“Make excuses for me. I know I abandoned our marriage.”
“Where the hell did that come from? I wasn’t even referring—” Pushing open the passenger-side door, he sighs. “You know that’s not how I see it.”
“Maybe you should,” I say over the roof of the car. “It’ll make it easier.”
“What? Our divorce?”
“Shit, we forgot to discuss it on the way up.”
He smirks, breaking the tension. “We were too busy goofing off and reminiscing.”
“True.” I smile. “Maybe we can hash out the details during dinner.”
“Not sure a no-fault divorce has many details to hammer out, but sure,” he mutters. “Unless something has changed?”
I shake my head. We’d agreed we would take the most collaborative divorce path since we weren’t adversaries, and we’d already divvied up possessions after the separation.
I text my roommate to let him know I’m here as we walk up to the front entrance. I key into the door and quickly check my mailbox in the hall before heading up the stairs to the second floor. John is quiet, scrutinizing the building, which is dated but clean, unlike my old place.
“Hey, Dennis. How’s it going?” I greet him as I step inside my apartment. I motion to John. “This is my?—”
“Husband, John, soon-to-be ex.” He holds out his hand while I stifle a gasp at the flippant comment. “Nice to meet you.”
Dennis smiles as their palms connect. “Welcome. I’ve heard all about you.”
John’s widened gaze swings to me, then back to Dennis. “Have you?”
Had John really thought otherwise?
Now Dennis is making eyes at me. “Hope that was cool to mention?”
I thump him on the shoulder. “Of course, all good.”
After small talk about our drive down, we head to my room. It’s small and cramped, but he doesn’t point it out. I feel silly, like a college kid who can’t afford the rent, and the truth is, most days, I can’t, subsisting on meals from the restaurant where I work and microwaveable food. And sometimes I ask myself how I got here. Not only because it’s expensive living in this town, but I’m hard-pressed to admit that I’ve never felt completely settled in LA. The lie I tell myself is that I will as soon as I get my big break.
“Do you share a bathroom too?” John asks.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“No, it’s okay, just gotta take a leak.”
“It’s down the hall,” I mutter.
I tidy up while he’s in there, embarrassed by my pile of clothes in the corner. To my credit, I left within twenty-four hours of hearing about my grandfather. As I toss my jeans in the hamper, I remember that I was way neater when John and I lived together, mostly because it was his parents’ house.
Grandpa never cared about my habits unless they imposed upon his collection of clutter. I wish I’d paid better attention to the things he held on to as opposed to tossing them. Come to think of it, he was pretty insistent on going through the mail and disposing of the trash himself. I always thought it was because he didn’t want me to lose any important papers or see any of the bills piling up.
When John returns, I take my turn in the bathroom. I stare at my reflection as I wash my hands, scarcely believing that John is actually here with me. Like I always pictured. But dreams certainly do not reflect our reality.
“Wanna get some food?” I ask from the doorway.
“Sounds good.”
He follows me out to the living room to slip into our shoes. My plan is to discuss the divorce during our meal, but John invites Dennis to tag along.
“You sure you don’t mind?” Dennis asks.
“Of course not,” I reply, honestly a bit relieved, and soon enough, we’re out the door and walking the few blocks to WeHo.
“This area is awesome,” John says as he takes in the thriving neighborhood.
“Right?” I playfully bump his shoulder. “It’s the gay mecca of LA.”
“I can see that,” he replies as his gaze snags on some men in leather harnesses in front of a gay bar. “Plus, there’s tons of restaurants to choose from.”
“Too many sometimes,” Dennis points out. “How about this taco place?”
John smiles, either because someone else made the decision or the fact that the place is unpretentious. “Sounds good to me.”
We step inside the small place with the Día de los Muertos decor and grab a booth. Once our margaritas and guac are delivered and our taco orders placed, Dennis asks, “So, you were raised in Aqua Vista?”
I watch as John licks the salt from his lips, and I have the urge to do it for him. I look away as he replies, “Yep.”
“I bet it’s picturesque.”
He nods. “Small with gorgeous views.”
“Small isn’t such a bad thing. I transferred here from a tiny town outside of Austin.”
“For your job?” John asks as he dips a chip in the guacamole.
“Uh-huh. No way to move up the ladder at that location.”
John winks playfully. “Looks like you needed to spread your wings too.”
Dennis looks between John and me as our eyes connect and hold. There’s tension in the air, but not the kind my roommate might expect. I recognize that playful glint in John’s eyes. He’s trying to make light of the situation. When my foot brushes over his under the table, he clears his throat and his eyes grow dark. He wants me as much as I want him, and the feeling is gratifying after so many years.
“Which reminds me…” Dennis says, and our gazes break apart. Christ, what he must be thinking. “This audition tomorrow sounds important.”
“It could be. If I get the part, it might springboard me to larger roles.”
“I hope it does. Keira was excited to hear it’s for Cold Blade . She said to tell you to break a leg or whatever.” His fiancée is really sweet, and I appreciate the support.
“Thanks.”
When our food is delivered, we scarf down our tacos.
“So, how was returning to Aqua Vista?” Dennis asks me.
“Sort of hard. Because of my grandfather, of course.”
I avoid John’s gaze, leaving out the other reason it’s been difficult.
“So he left you his house?”
“Uh-huh, and his fishing boat.”
Dennis’s eyebrows rise to his hairline. “Fishing?”
“Micah loves to fish,” John says. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Nope.” Dennis wipes his mouth and pushes his plate away. “Now I need to hear more.”
I cover the bases about my grandfather’s job and boat and how I enjoyed going out with him as a kid.
“I can’t believe I didn’t know this about you. So why did you stop?”
The server thankfully brings the check. “That’s a whole other story. For another time.”