29. Malcolm #2
“What?” I ask, sensing the reason “we need to talk” is coming. I cover my eyes with my hand and do the best I can to prepare myself.
“Why don’t you want to come over?” he asks.
“I just a need a minute, okay?”
He makes a noise like whether it’s okay or not is debatable. “You haven’t told me what happened with Kaylin.”
“We broke up.”
“Really?” He sounds doubtful.
I frown, genuinely confused. “Yes, really. Why are you asking it like that?”
He sighs heavily. “Listen…when I was over there picking up your badge, I found the engagement ring.”
I sit up, arm stiff against the cushion and eyes wide open. “ What ?”
“Yeah, so…I don’t know what that was about, but if there’s something you wanna tell me…”
“I got that last year,” I say immediately. “I never proposed. Obviously.”
“Why?” he asks darkly.
“Because, I… I wasn’t sure. Like I didn’t know if I was just doing it to go with the flow or because I really wanted to marry her, so I figured I’d wait until I knew for sure.”
“And?”
Is he serious? “Well, it’s not on her finger, is it?”
“It freaked me out,” he says.
“Why didn’t you say something?” I ask. As I recall, he came home that night and fucked me into the mattress with his clothes on. This certainly never came up.
“You told me to trust you,” he says.
I don’t have anything to say to that, so I go quiet. So does he. It gets darker in the living room. I never bothered to turn on the lights when I got home.
Eventually he says, “So you’re not avoiding me because you’re engaged to Kaylin.”
“I’m not…avoiding you.” My hesitation doesn’t exactly sell the lie, but it’s the best I can do.
“And you didn’t quit the internship to avoid me?”
I wouldn’t call what I’m doing right now avoiding Ryan, but again, semantics.
“You looked really good with that woman today,” I say. “Norah.”
“Mal…”
“Seeing you together was actually the first time I ever believed you were serious when you told me you were straight.”
“Didn’t we just talk about this?” he asks.
I can’t really remember what we talked about or when and where.
I mostly remember how I felt around him.
Good or bad. Elated or twisted with jealousy.
Having him or missing him. But I’m fairly sure we haven’t directly addressed the issue that was so in my face today at Big Bites.
“About whether you’d rather be with a woman than with me? No, we really haven’t.”
He dodges the question in that way he often does when he still has points he wants to make. “I talked about you with her today, you know? Specifically about how you bore easily.”
I shake the phone, half wishing it were his neck. “I don’t bore easily,” I snap. “I just don’t keep doing shit I’m not interested in.”
“So what’s your usual timeline on that?” he asks. “Two months? Three? A few weeks? What?”
“Fuck you, Ryan.”
“I only ask because you were with Kaylin for a decade .”
Goddamnit. “You’re never gonna get over that are you?” I ask because I think that’s what this all comes down to. My one unforgivable mistake. Lying. Pretending to be someone I wasn’t because I was too afraid to admit I wanted to be with him.
He makes a frustrated noise, and I can picture him pacing his rug, his turns getting sharper the faster he goes. “I have to, don’t I?”
“Not if you want to end things.”
“Why the fuck would I want to do that?” he nearly yells.
I used to think I was really easy going as a boyfriend, but it turns out, I’m not.
Not even a little. I’m high maintenance as fuck.
I can’t think of a single reason why Ryan would want to be with me—not if he could have a woman like Norah.
Shit, he’d be better off with Miguel. This train of thought leads me to ask the most pathetic question I’ve ever asked in my life. “How could you possibly want me?”
“Malcolm. I swear to God, don’t make me come over there. You know I hate that place.”
“Maybe we should take a break,” I say.
He sighs heavily.
“I’m spiraling, Ryan.”
“No shit.”
“So, I think I need a break.”
“Where have I heard that before…” he mutters.
“I don’t mean it like?—”
But before I can finish the sentence, he hangs up on me.
I sit on the couch for another three or four minutes while I absorb what just happened. I gulp back a strong swell of emotion before pushing my ass up off the couch. I know I fucked up. Again. And I can’t just sit around and do nothing all night.
It’s Friday, and we’re supposed to film another episode tomorrow, so I guess I’ll see him then if he doesn’t kick me off the team in the meantime. He might have to now that I’m not in the internship .
And then what would I have? This apartment. That’s what. This shitty, depressing apartment. No girlfriend, no dog, no podcast, no job, no friends, no Ryan.
Damn.
I don’t regret quitting Marks & Baker, but I don’t think I realized until now that, in doing so, I was setting fire to every pillar that holds up what I call a life. Ryan understood though. He was trying to help me.
I’ve been in therapy long enough to know when I need help. Am I great about asking for it? No. But in light of the current circumstances, I make the bare minimum effort. I text Andrea.
Me
Quit the internship. Me and Ryan might be on the outs. I’m not suicidal. No rush.
Once that’s sent, I take a shower, hoping by the time I come out, she’ll have replied. If not, then I probably won’t hear from her until tomorrow.
Once I’m clean, I have a few texts from Bailey I ignore but nothing from Andrea, and that’s when I consider—really consider—going to Ryan’s to clean up my mess.
I need to, so I get dressed, pocket my phone and wallet, and head out.
However, when I get into the Uber, I’m no more clear on what I want to say to him than I was when I had him on the phone.
I should have used different verbiage than “take a break.” I realize that now. Maybe I should have called a time out.
The last thing I want to do is break things off with him. I’ll be wrecked if he does, but I guess I’d understand. I haven’t done nearly enough to keep him.
He doesn’t see me as a safe bet, and I can hardly blame him. But since when does he have to play everything so safe? Has he always been like this, or is this another byproduct of the way I tormented him ?
I shouldn’t need his reassurance the way I do. He’s been straightforward enough. He’s not a man of many words, but the ones he’s said have meant something. To me anyway. Probably to him, too.
I know Ryan well enough to know I need to let him breathe for a minute, so I give the Uber driver a different address.
Miguel answers his door in a pair of gray sweats and nothing else. His hair isn’t in the usual bun. It’s down, and it’s longer than I would have guessed, falling just past his shoulders. He’s not a large guy, he’s probably 5’9 and a buck forty, but what there is of him is sleek and fit.
“I love your hair like that,” I say.
“Malcolm,” he says warily. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh. Right. Can we talk?”
He glances over his shoulder like I might be asking someone else, then he looks at me again and nods, stepping aside to let me in.
I start talking immediately. “So, I’m having a misunderstanding or something with Ryan, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“I’d suggest showing up randomly at his apartment. You want a drink?”
“No, I don’t want to bug you.” I sit down on his couch.
He stops by his kitchen, pours himself a glass of red wine from an open bottle and walks over to sit with me. “What’s the misunderstanding?”
“I got really, really jealous of him hugging a woman he was thinking about starting a relationship with today, and I kind of lost it.”
“A woman who what ?”
I do my best to explain what little I know about Norah while Miguel gets up and pours a glass of wine for me, too.
Once I think I’ve got Miguel on the same page, I take a sip, tell him it’s great wine, and ramble on.
“The thing is, I’ve been with the same girl since I was fourteen years old. We officially broke up yesterday.”
“Oh. Sorry, Mal?—”
“Thank you. It sucked. I mean, it was long overdue. I wasted a lot of her time, and she lowkey wants to kill me, but I think we’ll probably stay friends. We were already on a break.”
“Hm?”
“This summer. She’s been in Europe, and we were on a break, so it’s not like I was cheating on her.”
“But Ryan knows about her,” Miguel says with the look of someone trying to connect the dots.
“Yes. That’s what I’m getting at. Without going into the whole history—which isn’t irrelevant, but I don’t want to waste your time either—Ryan found an engagement ring I bought last year when he was grabbing some stuff from my apartment the other day.”
“Oh…” Miguel nods. “Got it.”
“What?” I ask, feeling like he’s made some sort of connection I haven’t.
“Nothing, go on.”
I open my mouth to press him further on the point but startle when a hulking shadow passes over the wall behind him.
Miguel sighs and turns around as Nathan—bare ass naked—appears in the hallway and sees me.
His eyes open comically wide before he dashes back into Miguel’s bedroom.
“What the fuck ?” I ask.
Miguel puts a hand on my knee and leans in. “This is why we text first, honey.”
“Holy shit, I’m so sorry. Should I go?”
I mean, of course I should go—but I’m secretly praying he won’t make me. Now that I’ve started talking, I really need to get the rest out.
“It’s fine,” Miguel says. “He didn’t text first either. So. Engagement ring.”
I give him the abbreviated version of why I bought but never gave Kaylin the ring, and he listens attentively. Nathan reappears fully clothed and goes into the kitchen like nothing is amiss.
His skulking around would be sort of a power move if I were trying to seduce Miguel, but it comes off a little ridiculous, and the first thing I want to do is tell Ryan about it.
Then Bailey. Because it’s quite obvious Nathan’s not the one in charge here, despite the impressive size difference.
I don’t love continuing this talk in front of him, but he’s not giving me a choice.
“It’s a trust issue, I think,” I tell Miguel, trying not to name names or use pronouns. Not because I care if Nathan knows I’m gay, but because it’d be too obvious that I’m talking about Ryan, who—at least until the other day—wanted to keep our relationship quiet.
“I can understand that,” Miguel says, sliding a meaningful look Nathan’s way.
Nathan who hooks up with women all the time.
Including in the unisex with my mentor. There’s some definite subtext I’m picking up on, but since Miguel seems fine with whatever’s happening, I’ll save my questions about him and Nathan for later.
“How do we get past it?” I ask instead.
“Sounds like you both have trust issues.”
“But I’m a psycho,” I say. “Like batshit. Crazy in love—emphasis on crazy.”
Miguel laughs, and I think I hear Nathan making an amused noise, too.
“Ha ha, yeah, I know. It’s not attractive.”
“It’s adorable, Mal. In small doses. ”
“Right, well…it’s kind of an all day every day thing with me. I feel like I need to let him breathe.”
Miguel gives me a dubious look. “Did he ask for that?”
“No. He said we ‘needed to talk,’” I say with air quotes.
“Sometimes that means exactly what it sounds like.”
“It sounds like he wants to tell me this has been fun and all, but his future’s with Norah in Seattle. Not on some stupid podcast with me.”
“Are you talking about Ryan?” Nathan asks.
Fuck. I glare at him. “I just saw you coming out of Miguel’s bedroom naked. As a reminder.”
“I noticed that,” he says. “I also feel like y’all are talking about me, too, so pardon me for taking an interest.”
Miguel cuts him a look, and Nathan raises his brows like he’s daring Miguel to tell him he’s wrong.
“So you think you’re smothering him or something?” Miguel asks me.
I do my best to ignore Nathan’s persistent presence. “Something. I have no chill when it comes to him. Norah was like—chill personified.”
Miguel drains his wine and nods. “Look. Here’s what I wanna say.
Ryan is upfront. He says what he means, and from what I can tell, he means what he says.
If he said it’s you—it’s you. And it sounds like he wanted to talk because he’s worried about you.
Everybody was shocked in debrief when you weren’t there and Georgie broke the news.
I don’t think he wants to break up with you.
Not at all. I can’t even imagine that. In terms of what to do about the ex girlfriend?
Just reassure him. That and time. Being consistent.
Showing up. Trying not to broadcast all your crazy at once. ”
Nathan looks like he’s taking mental notes while he goes through the motions of making a sandwich.
“That’s it?” I ask .
“Men aren’t that complicated,” Miguel says.
“So, in terms of breathing room?” I ask.
“Let me put it this way. Do you really want to let him sleep on this mess with that woman in town?”
I startle. “No,” I say. I definitely do not want that.
Miguel sets his empty wineglass on the coffee table. “This is the one exception where you should just show up.”
“Show up,” I repeat. “You get all that, Nathan?”
“Don’t you have some place you need to be, Malcolm?”
I turn back to Miguel. “Thank you. Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He walks me to the door, and before I leave, he gives me a hug. It’s a good one. Not as good as Ryan’s, but very welcome. “You’ll be fine,” he tells me. “I promise that boy’s just as crazy about you.”
I appreciate him saying that, but truthfully, given the way I feel about Ryan—there’s literally no way that’s possible.