32. Thirty-Two #2
I wasn’t going to come up with an idea either, not with my empty stomach and sleep-addled brain.
Just like I’d seen Brennon do so often, I snuck into the walk-in fridge and shoveled some of the leftovers from tonight’s meatloaf dinner onto a plate, alongside cold mashed potatoes from the other day.
I dropped onto the bench at the nearest table and one forkful at a time, choked down the food.
I’d just swallowed the last bite when a voice at my shoulder asked, “Are you okay? You look tired.”
I looked up into the concerned face of my ex-girlfriend. Michele slid a full cup of coffee in front of me before sitting down across from me.
My only answer was a grunt.
“Whatever, Cole.” She rose, as if to walk away. I’d just done it again. I pushed, and pushed, and pushed until people gave up on me. At this rate, there was almost no one left.
“No, Mich, wait-” I reached out for her. And because Michele is the kindest person I know, she sat back down and asked again, “Are you okay?”
This time, I gripped my mug tight, kept my eyes on the table and mumbled, “No…I don’t think I am.”
Silence.
“I think since the day Toni came back here; I’ve been the one fucking everything up. With you, with Bren.
“Wait, what about-” She tried to interrupt.
“I was so busy losing my shit at everyone all the time, and now you’re with Isabella, and they’re all, whatever the fuck they are, and I’m just here alone.”
“What the fuck?!” She blurted, but then immediately dropped her voice to a panicked whisper as her shout echoed across the empty dining hall, “How do you know about me and Bells? Did you tell anyone?”
“No, of course not.”
She visibly relaxed, taking a sip of her coffee.
“Why? Are you scared people will find out?”
“It’s not that I’m afraid,” I lifted a brow at her. That made her smile and confess, “Okay, maybe I’m a little bit afraid. But I’m also just not ready.”
Before I fucked everything up, Michele and I had been rock solid communicators. We were that couple that actually talked to each other. Something I stopped doing when Toni showed up. This was as close as we’d come to a proper conversation since.
“And how is Isabella handling that?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking. Curiosity about their–everything–taking hold.
“She understands. She only just came out to her dad this past year. Occasionally, she gets frustrated, but I have ways of dealing with that.”
Her eyes sparkled, and it reminded me of the look Toni used to get right before she suggested we do some insane thing, like sneak out in the canoes at night or try to swim to Bakwe Island.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, I just quote her back to herself,” she tilted her head from side to side with her fingers raised in air quotes, “Coming out is a journey.”
“I’ll bet she loves that,” I muttered sarcastically. Michele giggled, “It annoys her. A lot. But I have ways of fixing that, too.” Her smile widened, “Turns out I’m a very talented baby gay.”
I had no idea what that meant, but the implication of it was clear from her tone. For some reason, it made my face flush. When we were together, Michele would have never–like, not ever–been so overtly sexual.
“What the fuck, Mich” I grunted, “Like, I don’t need to… I don’t want to…”
My tongue twisted strangely until only one question came out, “How?”
“How?” she looked at me puzzled, “Like, as in the actual how?” I shook my head furiously. I did not need to know that. Besides, thanks to Mitchell’s perverted slideshow, I’d already gotten the idea.
She continued, “Or how did I know I was gay?”
The room around us seemed to shrink. It was almost claustrophobic, and my face was still flushed, worse than before. Beads of sweat were starting to break out across my brow. I brought my mug to my lips and mumbled, “Umm, yeah, that one.”
“Oh, Cole, I always knew. Or at least suspected.”
“Even with me?”
“Yes, Cole,” she folded her lips together, “Think about how we were, you know, together. It was-”
I cracked a smile, “Yeah, I guess it was bad, huh?”
Most eighteen-year-old couples are all over each other. In over two years together, we’d been physically intimate barely a handful of times. It was rare we’d done more than makeout.
“And now? With Bella? It’s not?”
That was probably a weird question to ask. Maybe I was being a creep for asking her, but I swear to God, it was like I couldn’t control my big, dumb mouth.
Bless Michele. She just laughed and shook her head in disbelief, “No, now it’s…it’s everything.”
The genuine smile that lit her features said just as much as her words.
“Being with Bella, um, like that, it was easy,” She laughed again, “You know, once I figured out what she liked.”
I couldn’t not blush at that. Not that I could see my reflection, but I could have sworn my whole body turned the colour of a damn tomato. And I kept trying to swallow down the thick air clogging my throat. But no dice.
“Enough about me. Why are you sitting here wallowing?”
Startled by the change of subject, I fought back, “I wasn’t wallowing.”
“Yes, you were, now spill.”
Of everyone I’d ever met, Michele was the last remaining person who might meet me with some kindness. She’d always called me out on my fuckups, sure, but she was never harsh or cruel.
“So… basically, I’m a scumbag. A stupid, asshole, scumbag.”
“Okay, and?”
“And what?” I replied. There was nothing more to say. That was just… it.
“Don’t you see, Cole? Hating yourself is just not worth it. It doesn’t accomplish anything,” She paused, taking a sip of her coffee, “And it’s easy to blame your mistakes on others. It’s a lot harder to accept responsibility.”
When she put the mug back down, the coffee inside was nearly black. Michele used to take two sugars and, like, four creams in her coffee before she’d drink it. It seemed like more than a few things had changed, for both of us, in our year apart.
“If you give up, if you do nothing now, knowing what you know, how will you feel?”
I grunted, sipping from my own mug rather than answering. Across from me, she slammed hers down.
“Like that. What you just did there,” she pointed at me, “Every time you ignore the hard stuff. The uncomfortable feelings. Every time you shove them down; you’re doing Carl’s work for him.”
Reaching across the wooden table, she took my hands and lowered them to the table, “Listen to me, Cole. If your dad had his way–and he has for a long time now–you would be just another misogynistic dickhead like him. And yeah, maybe you’d be some superstar hockey player like he always wanted. But you know what you’d also be?”
She dropped my palm and returned both hands to her mug while I waited for her answer.
“Alone.” She stared me down, “You’d be alone. Just like you are now. So, is that what you want?”
“No,” I breathed.
“Well, then, I think you have some work to do.” Behind me, the back door to the dining hall creaked, and Michele’s serious face lit with the kind of bright smiles she used to send my way.
These days, there was someone else lighting her up, and from just how often she smiled these days, it seemed like Bella was doing a better job of it than I ever had.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go see a girl about…
uh…” she couldn’t finish the sentence. Her pale face turned a vibrant shade of pink as she pinned her lips together.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Michele wasn’t exactly a prude, but unlike Abbi or Brennon, who were upfront–bordering on brash–about their sexuality, Michele definitely kept her and Bella’s activities quiet.
Michele was an incredible person, not only because she managed to put up with my ass for over two years, but because she was still doing it even when I’d stopped deserving it a long time ago.
Before she could run off toward Bella, this time, I reached for her.
Her eyes widened in surprise for a second when I said, “Hey Mich, I’m sorry.”
I paused to take a deep breath. I meant every word, and I needed her to hear that.
"I’m sorry for all of it. For everything I did. And said. I want you to know I’m really happy for you. Oh… and, uh, thank you. For this.” I flicked my hands to the coffee. She gave me a smile, the first one I’d earned from anyone in a while, “Thanks, Cole.”
She then skipped away, leaving me to consider her advice.
Sitting alone at that table foreshadowing the future that awaited me if I didn’t change.
Shame gnawed at me for all the shitty things I’d let myself believe.
For all the times I didn’t listen, or let my anger get the better of me.
For fuck’s sake, I’d punched Toni in the face at the start of this summer, and even if that had been an accident, Xavier didn’t deserve to be at the end of that punch, either.
Just like I didn’t deserve forgiveness. But I could at least help them get revenge.
And maybe, if luck was on our side, we’d be able to save Joshua and his sister.
I jumped from the table, and prayed I wasn’t too late for them. For all of us.