22. Micah
22
MICAH
The twinge in my chest feels like barbed wire. Fuck, filling out those forms seemed definitive. And not in a good way.
Yet here we are, singing and hamming it up four hours into our drive back to Aqua Vista.
Because we’re friends and we still love each other.
I pull into a fast-food place for a quick dinner, a bathroom break, and to stretch our legs. We decide to take our food to go and eat on the way.
John is behind the wheel now, and the car is quiet as we prepare to eat. Just like old times, I unwrap his chicken sandwich and place it on top of napkins in his lap before taking a bite of my own.
It comes so naturally he doesn’t even blink. “Thanks.”
When he’s halfway done, I feed him some fries dipped in ketchup because I know he likes that, but also so we don’t make too much of a mess. He laughs when I wipe some mayo off his mouth with a napkin, and I have the urge to follow the motion with a kiss. But now that we’ve made a final decision about our divorce, it doesn’t seem appropriate.
“Do you think maybe we were never meant to be?” I hold my breath as I clean up the wrappers and ketchup packets and place the empties in the bag at my feet.
“I don’t know. I always hoped it just wasn’t the right time.”
“Yeah, same.” I sigh. “Were you serious about living in LA?”
He hitches a shoulder. “Not like I haven’t considered it a thousand times over the years. I think, eventually, one of us would end up resenting the other.”
“Suppose it’s easier said than done. On my worst days, I pretended, though.”
He glances my way. “Pretended?”
“That one day you’d show up in a moving truck.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “Early on, I thought maybe I could do it.”
“Like the time you stayed in LA for a couple of weeks?”
“Yeah. But I…”
“You missed Aqua Vista and your bar. Your family too.”
“I did, but never as much as I missed you,” he admits. “So I told myself it was only temporary. That somehow one of us would figure out how to make it work in the same city. I’m sorry, Micah.”
“No, don’t be. It’s not realistic. But I’m glad it wasn’t only me.”
His eyes are soft as he murmurs, “Never.”
We grow quiet as I watch the passing landscape out the passenger window.
“Why did you never beg me?” John’s voice is tight, hesitant, as if he’s been storing up the question for a long time. “Plead with me to move?”
“Because I saw how out of sorts you felt during that two-week stay.” No way our love could’ve sustained that divide between us, no matter how much I wanted him to consider it. “Why didn’t you ever beg me to stay?”
He curves an eyebrow. “Would you have?”
“Probably,” I admit. “You were the one who gave me the confidence to take a chance.”
The corners of his mouth turn down as if he regrets the initial conversation that launched the whole idea way back when. “And if you hadn’t gone, we’d have only ended up in the same place.”
I blow out a breath because it’s true. And like he said, I might’ve ended up resenting him—and the town even more.
“It’s like Beth said about the sun and the ocean.”
He momentarily takes his eyes off the road. “Huh?”
I wave a dismissive hand. “Oh, you know how she is. Always has some sort of metaphor for life’s lessons or whatever. Something like, the sun and the ocean are sure of each other but can only connect for fleeting moments in time because the horizon keeps them apart.”
“Whoa. I’ll admit that one’s deep…” He trails off as if considering it.
“She predicted I’d leave town too, remember?”
He winces and looks away.
“Do you believe she truly has a gift?” I ask.
“I don’t know for sure, but hey, more power to anyone who thinks so.”
“Yeah, suppose so.”
“And her meditation sessions in the park seem to draw a crowd.”
“Wait, that’s a thing?”
“Uh-huh. She uses instruments or, like, sounds to help you relax.”
I drift off because it reminds me of yoga on the beach near the Santa Monica Pier.
John says, “She was right about Aaron and Jack.”
My eyes swing to him. “What did she say?”
“That Aaron would be back in Aqua Vista.”
“Couldn’t that have happened regardless?”
“Definitely. So maybe she meant we’ll remain in each other’s lives in one form or another.”
I don’t love the idea of being only friends, but it seems the most likely path.
When John reaches for my hand over the console between us, my heart staggers. I wonder if that sensation will ever go away or if anyone will ever make me feel like he does.
We hold hands on and off the rest of the way to Aqua Vista, as if clinging desperately to our connection for as long as we can.
We’re both pretty tired once we make it back to town.
“How about a celebratory drink?” John asks as we near his bar.
“Sure. For…?”
He shrugs. “Finally filling out the papers. And your audition, of course.”
“Fair enough.” I untangle our fingers as he parks, and I instantly miss the warmth. “Maybe we can see this as a fresh new start.”
“Sounds good.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
It doesn’t feel right in my gut either. The guilt is still present, and the air is heavy with tension as we exit the car.
We just need to learn to live with it. This new normal.
Besides, once the house is sold, we’ll likely only catch up with each other online or through texts.
I inhale sharply through my nose. Fuck, I can’t imagine not having John in my life.
I thought something would magically be decided one way or another. I didn’t think I’d still be living in the gray so many years later, wondering what in the hell we’re doing.
Technically, not anymore. Before we know it, the divorce will be official.
Was this part of your plan too, Grandpa? To force us to finally accept our separation? I could see you doing it. You always did like to teach me a lesson.
And boy, am I learning that life is messy and uncertain, with a few moments in between when it’s not.
It’s undoubtedly not ambiguous now as I follow John inside, excited to just be with him one more hour in one more day. I’m sure of you.
“You’re back,” Ross says from behind the bar.
“Yep, how did it go?” John glances around.
“Fine. You should leave more often.”
“You ass!” He pulls out a barstool for me. “How about a couple of beers?”
We sip and talk and soak up having our thighs and arms brush every now and again. If I could bottle this feeling and take it back to LA with me, I would.