“No, it was more than that.”I didn’t know how to tell him the truth without sounding judgmental or insecure.“You made it pretty clear that you’re not into relationships.One-night stands are more your thing.But they’re not really mine.Like I said, I’ve never done that before.”
“One-night stands have been my thing because…” He sighed.“I really didn’t want to get into all this tonight, but you deserve to know the whole truth.”
I inched a little closer, trying to encourage him to open up to me.“I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”
He smiled.“I feel like you should be sending me a bill for this.”
I didn’t know why, but I wanted to get to know this man better.To learn what made him who he was.“This one’s on the house.”
Sighing, he set his beer down on the coffee table.“Like I told you, I was only nineteen when my daughter was born.I went away for twelve years, and since I’ve been out, I’ve been trying to get my life together and make up for all the mistakes I’ve made.That didn’t leave a lot of time for relationships.”
“Fair enough.”
“Besides, the kind of woman who might be able to overlook my past wasn’t really the type I wanted to get mixed up with.”He raised his hand.“I know that sounds bad.Who the hell am I to judge, right?”
“What kind of woman did you think would be willing to overlook your past, and give you a chance?”
He cleared his throat.“I don’t know.Someone like me, maybe.Who’d been mixed up with the law or struggled with addictions or… just didn’t feel great about themselves because of shit they’d done in the past.”
There was so much I wanted to say, so many questions I wanted to ask.But I had to remind myself I wasn’t his therapist and this wasn’t a session.I was just a woman interested in getting to know him better.
“I know about your past, and I’m not running scared.But I am curious.”
“About why I went away?”
I nodded.“If you don’t mind talking about it.”
“No, I don’t mind.”He released my hand and rubbed his palm against the seat cushion.“It’s a typical story.Running with the wrong crowd.Drugs.Theft.Getting kicked out of my house.Being homeless.Finding a street family who took me in.”
“A gang, you mean?”
“Yeah.”He rubbed his thumb over his lower lip, looking pensive.“I was a messed-up kid.Turns out, getting put away was the best thing that could have happened to me.I figured shit out in prison that I never could have if I’d stayed on the streets, with those people.”
“What did you figure out?”
“Who I was, what I wanted.”
I inched closer still, curling my hand around his leg.I knew how difficult it was for him to open up and I wanted to support him.“And?Who were you?What did you want?”
“I was a dumbass kid who didn’t know who he was.That’s why I started taking drugs and hanging with gangbangers.It gave me an identity, as messed up as that sounds.”
“It doesn’t sound messed up at all.I’ve heard similar stories from a lot of young people.”
He rested his arm along the back of the sectional, toying with my hair, watching as it slide through his fingers.“I did a lot of soul-searching in there.Thought about the man I wanted to be.Turns out I just wanted to be someone my parents, sister, and daughter could finally be proud of.”
“What about you?Are you proud of yourself, Taz?”
He shook his head.“Not yet, but I think I’m getting there.”He smirked.“I guess you could say I’m a work in progress.”
I smiled.“Aren’t we all?”
His eyes traced every inch of my body.“Not you.You seem to have it all together.”
“Uh, you’d be wrong about that.Someday I’ll tell you how messed up I am.But right now, I want to hear the rest of your story.”
He drew a deep breath and exhaled.“Right, well I did a lot of reading in prison.Writing, journalling, that kind of thing too.”
“How about therapy?Group or individual?”
