It’s merely a name—my name dripping from his lips.
I sigh, trying to collect my thoughts. Why the hell is he at my mother’s house. How am I supposed to react to this? “What are you doing there, Maverick?”
“Well I think your mother explained it quite nicely. I have amends to make…with many people. You are the first one of course. Think of it like my six step program if you’d like,” he explains. I hear him ask my mom for more tea and another photo album.
“Do not look at the ones from middle school. I swear I will rain dark, acid blood down on you right now if you so much as peek at those horrible albums,” I threaten. “And isn’t it twelve steps?” He laughs and continues a dual conversation with Kathy and me at the same time. They banter back and forth about me, and my trials and tribulations when I was an unruly teen.
“She just finished telling me the story about the Pimp and Ho party you attended in tenth grade, complete with a detailed description of your prostitute costume. I have to say, I never thought you’d dip that dark. I want to see that,” Maverick whispers and I know for certain my mother didn’t hear that comment. He pauses a few beats and then says, “I’m sorry again, Windsor. This is the beginning of my restitution trail.”
Although I’m still baffled that he’s sitting in my mother’s kitchen, gleaning more knowledge about me than any one person should have, my heart flutters. With Maverick it always does, even when it isn’t supposed to. Because that’s what love is. Your heart beats along frantically and compassionately for that individual, even when the same person rips it out of your chest. Funny how my fluttering heart reminds me why I need to keep my distance.
“What exactly are you doing?” I ask quietly.
He breathes out a long sigh. “I’m proving to you that some things don’t have to make sense. They’re just right. You think we’re wrong for each other, but we’re not. I can’t lie to myself anymore and you shouldn’t either. And I also need you to realize you don’t want to be my friend.”
“I do want to be your friend,” I reply. I also want to jump your bones and make sweet blissful love to you at the same time. So much for not falling feet first into the Maverick pool.
“And that’s what I need to fix. Wait until you see what I have up my sleeve. I’m going to be the man that deserves you. Deserves more than friendship with you. I fucked up, Win. I’m sorry I wasted so much time. I’m going to make up for it now. I have to go. Kathy and I are going to play Bunco with her friends. Oh, and Windsor?” I’m afraid to respond. What else can he one-eighty me with?
“Yes?” I hold my breath. Silence.
“I think you look sweet with braces and glasses.”
“Ugh.”
“You have to be in the same room to rain dark, acid blood on me. You headed this way? I miss you.” He laughs. I lean my forehead down on my desk.
I groan. “Bye Maverick. Look out for Carla. She’ll rob you blind.” Well, she won’t rob Maverick blind, not in one day at least.
“I’ll see you soon.” He clicks off the line. I’m left sitting at my desk with a gaping hole of guilt. I have to be up front with Nash as soon as possible, before whatever crazy thing Maverick does next affects all of us—like a big, happy dysfunctional family. The confusing thing is right next to that guilt is a huge well of sheer happiness. He’s making an effort. More importantly, he’s pulled himself out of the swirling grief hole. I’ll do whatever it takes to facilitate his healing process because I know how important lifelines are. The thing about lifelines though, is if you jumble them up enough, they fail.
I sort files into perfect stacks in order of importance on my desk and fill out online forms, stamping my electronic signature like a notary on speed. I distract myself with work while I gain the courage I need to dial up Nash.
When we first started dating back in my early twenties he would always tell me how fun and adventurous I was. We fell into a routine very quickly and I know the exact moment our relationship took a nosedive, and not just because I know when he started