Chapter Seventeen
Asher
Max is all over the place again today. He goes from heavy, enraged punches to mopey, weak ones every other break. I’ve called a lot of breaks to make sure he isn’t hurting himself. I’m standing to the side as he drinks some water and mumbles to himself like I’m not even here.
He has days like this. I know because we spend every Friday on the mats whether he’s sick or not. He’s locked up in his head and unfocused everywhere else.
“Your head isn’t in it today. We should call it off,” I suggest, the same as I do every other time he’s like this. He turns a glare on me that would wilt a lesser man.
“I need this outlet, Ash. Just give me a second.”
It isn’t like me to get emotionally invested in my students” problems. Still, Max has gotten into a weird halfway point towards friendship. Like a lot of guys I grew up with, he”s jaded and tough, unwilling to express what he feels easily and taking it out on a punching bag instead. I can relate.
“Have you ever been in love?”
The question hits me out of nowhere, and I’m suddenly regretting the halfway friend status quo.
“No.” It’s an easy answer because it’s the truth. I’m too closed off for any real attachments to form. My Maman says I just haven’t found the right one and I laugh at her. She also says that when I find her, all the emotions I hold inside will pour out, and I might scare her. There will never be a right one, so some innocent woman will be spared the psychotic trauma.
“Oh,” he frowns at me as if he’s surprised. “I figured chicks would be all over you.”
“That doesn’t equal love,” I point out the obvious with a patient look.
“True. I’ve been in love. Twice.”
I shrug. Good for him. Not interested.
“One is my boyfriend,” his eyes narrow on me as if he’s waiting for me to be shocked or sickened by the words. My face remains blank because I honestly don’t care what his sexual preferences are. It’s none of my business.
“The other is a woman who worked with me.”
That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.
“They got into a fight, and she just… disappeared. I haven’t been able to find her. No one has.”
“You had to know they might not get along.” I frown at him. He wanted to start a poly relationship, and it blew up in his face. It’s not unusual for that type of arrangement. My sister, Suzette, had a few false starts that didn’t work out until she found her ‘right ones.’
“They did get along,” he insists.
“Obviously not,” I raise an eyebrow at his refusal to face facts.
He tosses the water bottle into the trash with a lot more force than necessary and stomps over to me. “You don’t have the full story, asshole.”
I don’t know if I want the whole story. He gives it to me anyway.
It takes several weeks for him to get it all out since he only has one hour one day a week. I have to admit he draws me into his problems as if they were my own. I’m always shit at making friends with people, and this is what I always end up with. Broken people just like me. I wish I could stop the cycle.
I finally break after weeks of silently listening to his venting. “Let me get this straight. You rushed into a physical relationship with a woman who was emotionally vulnerable and going through a lot of heavy shit. Your boyfriend tells her he wants nothing to do with her, and she leaves.”
He draws back from the bag he was kicking in surprise. Considering this is the first time I’ve responded after this long, he has a right to his shock. He probably thought I wasn’t even listening.
“I know it sounds bad.”
“It sounds shit.”
“I just wanted her so bad, man,” he grits his teeth in frustration.
“Ok. Did you use your words and tell her that? Before or even after you messed around?” I ask like he’s a toddler with his first emotional dilemma.
“No.” He looks pissed that I’m calling him out, but I don’t give a shit. I’ve watched my sisters get their hearts broken enough to recognize his behavior.
“Then she had no reason to stay when shit blew up. She was being used for sex.”
“No, she wasn’t!” He yells and advances on me threateningly.
I don’t back down as he approaches. “Without words to back it up, how would she know?”
He freezes as his face turns remorseful, “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t been looking for her so I can tell her?”
“She may not come back, Max,” I inform him, and he winces as if I’ve gut-punched him. “That’s why you talk first and act second.”
“I can’t wait for you to lose your shit over someone so I can laugh in your face,” he replies with bitter relish.
It’s never going to happen.