Chapter 24 #3
“Look, I don’t have a clue what’s gonna happen when we get home.
Maybe you’re right. Maybe in another week we’ll realize we can’t actually stand each other and you never wanna see me again.
Or,” he puts a finger to my lips, forestalling my protest, “maybe none of those things happen and it’s great.
Maybe we’re soulmates or some shit. Who knows?
We’ll never find out unless we give it a shot. ”
I swallow hard. “I’m scared.”
“I know, butterfly.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Listen, I have to go back tomorrow,” he tells me. “I really, really hope you decide you’ll come along by then. It would make me so happy if you did. Make both of us happy.”
I close my eyes and snuggle into him, falling silent once more.
Maybe he’s right, though. I already took one chance by robbing a man. What’s this in comparison? A small leap into a shallow pool compared to the cliffside dive of a few days ago. Somehow, though, it feels just as fraught.
I suppose matters of the heart always do.
“Well. Now I know what it sounds like when you come screaming.”
This from Mike at around midnight when I go out to the kitchen for something to drink.
Sam’s tucked up in my bed, passed out. We’d argued, a little bit, good-naturedly, on the sleeping situation—mostly me offering to sleep on the floor and him refusing to accept this—until we settled on both of us in my too-small bed.
“I’m used to sleeping with you by now,” he said. “Last night sucked.” And well, what can I say to that?
“Sorry,” I say to Mike. “I’m surprised you’re still awake.”
“All the drama’s fucked my sleep schedule. Might as well stay up til the sun comes around again.” There’s a cigarette smoldering in the ashtray on the kitchen table. “You’re gonna go with him, right?”
I open the freezer and grab the ice tray. “With Sam?” I mumble, squeezing out a few cubes into my water glass. “Don’t see how I’m gonna pull it off.”
“Ash, really?” He leans forward as I sit down across from him, folding my legs beneath me. “Literal Prince Charming comes riding up on his dark horse and offers to make you his princess and you’re gonna say no?”
“I think you’re mixing up your idioms.”
“And I think you’re deflecting.” He snatches his cigarette from the ashtray. “He doesn’t even care about all the stupid shit you did and you’re still wishy-washy about it? How many guys out there would let the whole felonious hustler thing slide?”
I wince. “Gee, thanks.”
“Don’t be fragile. You know what I mean.” The exhaled smoke curls towards the ceiling before dissipating. “I think you’re about to let a really good thing slip between your fingers.”
“I know—I know it’s good. I know he’s good. That’s half the problem, isn’t it?” I stare glumly into my water glass. “Sam’s this good person. He has so much to offer. To like, anyone. He’s such a sweet guy and for some reason he’s fixated on me, of all people—”
“Because he adores you, obviously. I’ve known the guy for five seconds but even I can see that.”
“Yeah, but like…I have nothing to offer him. Literally nothing, Mike. I can’t even buy his love at this point because some trucker took off with it all.” I rub my face wearily. “So if I’m a piece of shit person with nothing to give, he’s just gonna get sick of me.”
Mike stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray. “You know not everything in the world is transactional, right?”
“Huh?”
“Relationships aren’t just about what you can give someone.” He explains this like I am a very slow, small child. “Sometimes you just love people because of who they are. Like, you just do. It’s unconditional.”
I blink at him. “Um…”
“Christ. Okay. Do you just like Sam because of what he does for you? The stuff he gives you?”
“No,” I say. “I mean, nothing so tangible. He takes pretty good care of me, but even that aside I just like him.”
“And you think he doesn’t just like you for you? You know, the way Ben liked you for you? And I like you for you? And Jules likes you for you? Except Sam likes you in the kind of way where he also wants to put his dick in you on the reg.”
“I…” When he puts it that way, I feel stupid as hell.
Mike softens up on me. “For the record, you’re not a piece of shit. You’ve had a tough life, Ash. Tougher than most people. But you’re a survivor.” He reaches across the table to nudge my shoulder. “I think it’s about time you let yourself have some happiness.”
“I feel like I don’t deserve it.” I let the truth hang there, fragile as spun glass. “Like it’s just some awful cosmic joke and I’m the punchline. If I let myself have this thing, it’ll get taken away from me. And then I’ll really have nothing. Which is what I actually deserve.”
“For one thing, you do deserve happiness,” Mike says. “Okay, so you stole a fuckload of money from a gazillionaire. So what? It’s chump change for him.”
“He killed himself.”
“And? How is that your fault?”
“Because if I didn’t, he wouldn’t have?”
“If it wasn’t because of you, it’d be because of someone else. A guy like that is on a hair trigger. Some other scandal—you think he doesn’t have a million other skeletons in his closet?”
“I know he does. Did. He told me about a lot of them.”
“Look, my point is, that shit isn’t on your conscience. Or it shouldn’t be.” He lights another cigarette. “He was cheating on his wife, anyway. And his politics sucked. Fuck him.”
“I can’t not feel bad about it, Mike. I hated the guy, but he was still a person.”
“God. You always did have too much of a soul for this biz.”
I smile a little. “I feel pretty soulless, actually.”
“You’re not.” He sinks his chin onto one hand.
“Fine. Mourn. Feel bad. Do whatever penance you need to. But you gotta keep living, too. You can’t just waste away in misery because you feel like that’s what you’re supposed to do.
You’ve got a life worth salvaging and a guy who wants to see you through it. Why not take a chance?”
I sip my water. “Yeah,” I murmur. “Maybe you’re right.”
“About time you came back,” Sam whispers to me as I squeeze in beside him. “I missed you.”
I wrap my arms around him, tucking myself beneath his chin. “I missed you too.”
He drifts back off to sleep, his snores gentle as waves lapping the shore. And I lie there awake for a while, staring at the ceiling as I think.