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“It’s what I’m referring to. You and I were nothing more than an act from the moment we first met. And yeah, perhaps I was the lucky girl who made it to the second act with you, but it ended the same for me as it did for your other hookups or flings. I’m neither of those. I don’t know why I expected more from you, but I did. Sadly, you proved to be nothing more than a player even if you did love me like you said.”
“Mickie,” he said more sternly, “I still love you. It’s why I’m back and why I couldn’t?—”
“The mistake I made with you was following my heart and not my mind, and look at where that landed me?”
Silence.
“Exactly. Your silence speaks volumes about where I ended up in this mess. I suppose it’s par for the course with you. Silence. Nothingness. Abandonment. And I wouldn’t ask you to care or anything of the sort, but what I will ask you to do is never tell me that you love me ever again because from the way we ended things—you dropping off the face of the earth without one last damn word or explanation—I’m certain you don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“You have every right never to forgive me.”
“Oh, thank you for your permission for that,” I chuckled at his delusion. “I’m not worried about forgiving you, but I have forgiven myself for believing anything you said, which is the only reason I’ve been able to move on and how I can converse with you now. I still have to work with you and prefer maintaining a decent workplace relationship—nothing more and nothing less. As for resuming any relationship we previously had, that won’t even be discussed. You had your chance, and you blew it. Never again will I allow anyone to treat me like you have.”
“Fair enough,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Then, we’ll be coworkers and nothing more.”
“Thank you,” I said and then turned to grab my next patient’s charts and enter the exam room.
“I can’t believe you’re moving,” Aunt Bev said. She’d returned home three days ago after wrapping production in Morocco much sooner than expected, and I wasted no time finding an adorable bungalow to rent in Pasadena. I adored Aunt Bev, but I needed my own space. “I was hoping we could at least be roomies,” she teased, sipping her large goblet of fine wine.
“Trust me,” I chuckled, signing off on the final box the delivery man was loading up on his small moving truck and walking back into my aunt’s favorite sitting room, where she loved talking for hours and drinking. “You don’t want to be roomies with me. My work schedule is insane, and I could never imagine you keeping those blackout curtains up while I slept during the day.”
“God no,” she rolled her eyes at the thought while I grinned in response. “Those things had better be going out with Francisco on that moving truck.”
“They were the first thing I packed,” I teased, pouring myself a glass of wine.
“So, catch me up on how many lovely men have been romancing you in my beautiful home.”
“Nice try,” I teased, taking a sip and sitting across from her on the chaise, “but I’m not getting into all that.”
“You would tell your mother all about this ex-boyfriend of yours, but you won’t regale me with anything at all?”
I sighed. “Why are you and Mom always in such stiff gossip competition? She was all pissed off that I knew about your true love, and she didn’t have a clue.”
“That’s because she’s jealous,” Aunt Bev answered with a smile.
“And you’re not? Have you two ever been friends?” I chuckled.
“Sure. When your mother wasn’t such a prude with a stick shoved up her ass sideways, we were fantastic friends.”
I laughed, “And now?”
“And now we just get into these little pissing matches. I’ll be honest, she’s so prim and proper now, but I remember how she was before she married your father, and guess what, honey?” she flashed me this coy look.
“What?” I smiled.
“She wasn’t the saint she makes herself out to be.”
“Mom was a bad girl, eh?” I laughed. I knew my mother wasn’t always perfect, but if Aunt Bev was willing to spill it, I wanted all the details.
“No,” she said. “She was a lot like Lydia, never planning for anything but following any adventures that headed her way.”
“What changed in her?”
“Responsibilities of life, of course,” she said. “She fell victim to what was expected of her, and sadly, she just lost that little spark I remember her always having.”
“Well, you have to grow up a little at some point,” I said.
“But you can’t let it age you or change you. I also sense it was a bit of responsibility toward your dad and how that made her feel. Don’t get me wrong, your dad is a wonderful man, but my brother,” she rolled her eyes and took a large gulp of wine, “he expects things to go a certain way. She probably thought he wouldn’t love her if she didn’t act like the prude our mother was.”
