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Gavin
Present
The stereo blaresin the living room. Queen’s “Another One Bites The Dust” at a volume way too loud for this early in the morning.
Micah comes up and taps my shoulder. “Get up, brother. Happy motherfucking birthday.”
You have got to be fucking kidding me. I groan, roll to face the back of the couch, and smother myself with the pillow over my face. “Go away. It’s too fucking early for this bullshit.”
“Nope.” He yanks the pillow from my hands. “I haven’t celebrated a damn birthday with you in years. We’re rectifying that right now. Up you go.” He tugs the blanket off me and walks away, whistling like a cocky bastard.
“Asshole,” I grumble as I sit up. “What time is it?”
Micah walks back into the room, pillow and blanket gone, and tosses a shirt at me. “Almost ten. For us normal folks, early was three hours ago. Uppity up.” He steps up beside the couch and waves his hands as if to push me off.
“Since when do you get up early. Don’t you mainly work at night? Like late?”
He doesn’t respond.
After a minute, I get up and stumble to the bathroom. I crank the shower to scalding and step in. The water slowly washes the sleep off me, and soon I step out.
Once dressed, Micah suggests we go out for breakfast. I agree, but tell him he has to go with me to an appointment after. He directs us to a mom-and-pop restaurant where the line for a table is ten deep. After we get seated, we order breakfast and talk about everyone hanging out later tonight. He tells me he didn’t hang around everyone else while I was in California because it felt weird. Supposedly, he has no idea what tonight entails, but I believe he knows more than he lets on.
Micah changes the topic and asks why Jonas pulled me aside last night. Says he checked on us from his spot in the arcade a few times. I smile and relay the conversation. Good to know Micah always has my back, even when I don’t know it.
“That’s pretty ballsy of him,” Micah states. “No lie, he’s spent a lot of time with Cora. I’m shocked they’ve only remained friends all this time.”
“Yeah, we touched on that when he admitted he was in love with her.”
“And what did he say?”
I chuckle. “He said he’s actually tried a couple of times to push for more, but she stopped him. The only time she didn’t was when I left, and she was pissed and drunk. She leaned in to kiss him and he cut her off. Told her he didn’t want to be a backup option. She told him how sad she was and that she just wanted to feel something again.”
When Jonas told me that last tidbit, I cringed. I did that to her. Made her so desperate for affection she was willing to fall into the arms of someone she didn’t love. Not romantically, anyway. Hearing the truth was a hundred punches to the gut. I never want her heart to feel such depravity again. Never want her to be desperate for love because she feels she has none.
“Dude, that’s some crazy shit. All in all, he’s a good guy. He’s never done anything horrible to Cora, Shelly, or Erin. Their relationship is odd, but they all have a good time together. I hate to say it, but he helped her smile again.”
“Fuck.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it. For years, there was nothing you could do about it. And you can’t change the past. It’s done. So now, you just move forward. She loves you, bro. Always has, always will. He just kept her afloat while you were gone. Be thankful for that. Some of the shit Shelly told me painted a pretty ugly picture. She didn’t leave her house for months after you left. Almost flunked school. A lot of people were worried about her.”
Although Cora and I stopped talking after a couple months, she was always front and center in my mind. The times we did talk after I moved to California, she never portrayed what Micah tells me now. She masked her pain, and she did it well. Either that or I relieved it when we talked. I can only imagine how it all went to shit when I stopped talking with her altogether. Every time I hear a new snippet about our time apart, the fault line in my heart opens wider.
But I deserve the pain. Deserve to let it tear me apart inside. Every horrible memory. All the sleepless nights and days of depression. Because her pain is my pain. And I pledge to never let her experience such pain again.
Micah and I eat breakfast in silence. Once we finish, we pay and head to my appointment. I crank the radio while we drive, silencing any further conversation. I need to clear my head and music is my favorite form of therapy.
When we pull into the parking lot, Micah laughs loud enough I hear him over the music. After I cut the engine, Micah asks, “So what irreversible decision are you making today?”
“Shut the fuck up.” I get out of the car and walk into the tattoo shop, Micah following in my wake.
I go through the normal spiel with the lady at the front counter, filling out the form and providing identification, then sit and wait to be called back. She twirls her pink hair and pops her bubblegum loudly.
Ten minutes later, I sit in a chair with my shirt off. The artist prints the tattoo and Micah is staring at me with a gleam in his eyes.
“Speak your mind,” I tell him.
“You’re really going to do this?” Micah asks.
