Past Imperfect (19 page)

“Sorry I’m late. The traffic was horrible,” I apologized.

“That’s okay,” she said, smiling up at me nervously.

Cold blue eyes bored into me as I slid into the booth. Clearing my throat, I said, “I was expecting it to be just the two of us.”

“If you thought for one second that I would let her come and meet with you alone, then you’re a dumber Smurffucker than I gave you credit for,” he bit out between gritted teeth.

“What the hell did you think I was going to do to her, throw her across the table and screw her brains out?”

In a split second his arm reached out and grabbed a fistful of my shirt, pulling me toward the table. “Tweet, go get in the car.”

“Noah, please,” she said in a low voice as she placed her hand on Stewart’s upper arm. I felt his grip loosen immediately. “What do you want, Brad?”

“I want to talk with you alone.”

The two of them exchanged looks. “He just wants to talk,” she told him softly.

“I’ll be right around the corner at the library. Text me when you’re done and I’ll come get you,” he said.

“I will.” His eyes scanned her face just before he leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” he said.

I usually looked away from such nauseating displays of PDA, but this time my gaze was frozen on these two. I had never seen honest-to-god true love before.

Reluctantly, Stewart got up to leave. “It’s always such a pleasure to see you,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my words.

“Smurffucker, go fuck yourself.” He glanced back at Amanda one more time before walking away.

“Wow, he
really
hates me,” I announced.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“Yeah, he hates me.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” she agreed.

“Um… does he know that I
have
actually screwed your brains out on a table?”

“No.” Her body stiffened as she leaned back, shaking her head and huffing out a breath of annoyance.

“So I’m like your dirty little secret,” I said, unable to keep the smirk off my face.

“Listen, you and I are ancient history.”

“It wasn’t really that long ago.”

She leaned toward me and said in a low irritated voice, “He’s never asked and I’ve never offered the info, but I’m sure he figured out that we did
things
. Now if you don’t tell me in the next five seconds why you wanted to meet, I’m out of here.”

Just then the waitress arrived at the table and took our drink orders. This wasn’t going exactly how I imagined it would. I’m pissing Amanda off more than anything else. Changing the way I acted toward girls was harder than I thought, especially with the one I liked. The old Brad never cared if a girl had a boyfriend. If I was attracted to her, I’d go after her. My feeling was, if her boyfriend was satisfying her then I wouldn’t have a chance.

I always had a chance.

It was so natural for me to flirt with Amanda and fall back into our banter. I missed that. I missed her. But she wasn’t mine and I needed to show her and her relationship with Mr. Fucking Perfect some respect. I kept my gaze focused on my hands that were fidgeting with my napkin as I tried to organize my thoughts, what I wanted to say, and how I wanted to say it. The waitress returned to our table. I watched intensely as she placed the coasters on the table, then two straws, and finally our drinks.

I looked up and past Amanda. Then I took one quick glance at her, to test the waters on how receptive she’d be to my attempt at sincerity. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that stuff,” I admitted. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Why did you want to meet, Brad?” she asked again, her voice flat and guarded.

“I’ve been fine too, thanks.” She didn’t respond.

Stop being a Smurffucker, Brad.

I shifted in my seat and cleared my throat. “I wanted to say how sorry I was for everything that happened between us.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you apologizing to me now?” Confusion and curiosity were written across her face.

I swallowed the lump in my dry throat. “Because I wanted you to know that the time we were together was the best time of my life.” I took a large gulp of my drink.

“I don’t understand. How could you say that and still bet on how long it would take to screw me?”

“Amanda, I was a ball-less prick. I still am in many ways, but I’m trying to change. I never wanted to be that guy; I just fell into it somehow. The bet was disgusting, but you have to believe me when I tell you that whenever I was with you, even on that day, had nothing to do with a bet.”

“Then why did you go through with it?” I could see tears forming in her eyes. The ache in my stomach hit me hard seeing how what I had done still affected her so much.

“I wanted you to be my girl and I knew you couldn’t be. You’d never look at me the way you looked at Noah. I held off having sex with you as long as I could because I wanted to keep you in my life. I knew once we had done it and you found out about the bet, we’d be over.”

“That’s bullshit. You didn’t have to tell those guys.”

“Yeah, well, that’s where the ball-less prick part of my personality comes in. I wanted you so much, but I had to get out before I fell further. I didn’t trust myself to stay away from you, so I needed you to hate me. That’s why I went through with the bet. I know that day went from you
giving
me a part of yourself to me
taking
it away from you.” As I remembered back to that day in my bedroom and the look on her face right before I left, I felt my throat burn and close up. “You were the only person I had ever cared about and I went ahead and humiliated you anyway. I’m so sorry I did that to you.” My voice was unsteady.

“That night I showed up at your door and that entire summer… Why didn’t you turn me away? Why did you let me keep coming back?”

“I missed you like crazy. You needed to pretend I was Noah that summer and I needed to pretend you were mine. I acted like an ass because you still needed to hate me. You had to be the one to walk away because I knew I couldn’t.”

Sitting back, she stared at me trying to figure out if I was being sincere. She let my words roll around in her head and watched the emotions on my face. “Why, after all this time are you suddenly struck with a guilty conscience about what happened?”

“I told you, I’m trying to change. I’m trying to grow up and be a better person. Besides, I always felt guilty.”

She hesitated before she said, “Thank you for apologizing.” I exhaled a deep sigh of relief at her words. “You weren’t entirely to blame for what took place.”

“No, I take full responsibility. The bet was…”

“Oh, the bet was totally a douche bag move on your part. I was referring to the entire summer. I could have walked away, but I didn’t. I think it’s safe to say we used each other equally.”

Amanda had been through a lot since the last time I saw her and it had changed her. There was a peace and contentment that radiated off of her now and obviously a tremendous ability to forgive, even a Smurffucker like me.

“You and Stewart seem good.”

“We’re very good.” There was a shift in her expression. Her face glowed with happiness at just the mention of his name. She was finally by his side, where she belonged.

“I’m glad. He’s one lucky son of a bitch,” I said, sending a grin her way that quickly disappeared as I thought how much I missed having her as my girl, even though it was pretend.

Somehow she read my expression. “Thank you. You’ll find what Noah and I have someday, you know.”

“Eh, maybe.” I paused for a few seconds and then asked, “Everything else with you going well?”

“Yeah, life is pretty perfect.” She smiled.

“When I’ve interned at my father’s firm, I’d see your sister at the courthouse sometimes. I always asked her about you.”

“Yeah, she told me. I knew there was more to you than what you let people see.” She sent me a wink.

“Gotta keep the intrigue alive. The ladies love the mystery.” I winked back at her and she chuckled. I took a long look at her gorgeous face and teal eyes. If I found someone half as great as this girl, I too would be a lucky son of a bitch.

“Well, I guess I better go and meet up with Noah. We have dinner plans.”

I threw some money on the table and we both stood.

“Thanks for meeting me today,” I said.

“I’m glad I came.”

I leaned in, placed a soft kiss on her cheek and whispered, “Have a fantastic life, Beautiful. You deserve it.”

We stared at each other for a few minutes with a mixture of regret and sorrow, but also forgiveness. We realized because of our circumstances we may not be the best of friends, but we definitely knew we were no longer enemies.

I stood out in front of my house for the first time in two years. My dad and I rarely spoke anymore. At least when I was still living at home we would exchange the occasional, “How are you?” or “See ya later”. But since I had left for college I almost never came home, he never visited me at school, and neither of us took the time to call each other. It was as if there had been a huge colossal argument between us and we both took a vow of silence. I knew why I had stopped talking to him, but I never understood why he stopped talking to me.

The minute my mom died, my dad stopped being my dad. It was confusing because when mom was alive, he was a good dad. I was closer to her, but he still took part in my life. I looked up to him and respected him. As a little girl, I knew he would be there for me whenever I needed him. I felt his protectiveness naturally. The last time he shielded me from the ugliness that life could throw at me was the night Mom killed herself, when he pushed me out of the room. I’ve thought about that moment for years and wondered now if he was trying to protect me or get me out of the way so he could be alone with the love of his life.

After Dr. Burnett released me from the hospital, I took a break from self-harming. The concussion diagnosis scared me enough to force down my urges for a little while. Memories of my mom and Becca still occupied my thoughts the majority of the time. I lost count of how many times I replayed Becca’s memorial service in my head. The look on her parents’ faces, the words used to describe her, the hurt that was so striking in the face of the boy who I assumed to be the one she loved. I wondered how he was handling things. I remembered the pull I felt toward him. Whenever I thought about him and Becca I felt a wave of jealousy. She had someone to love, who loved her, and would miss her. That day I wanted to hold him and feel that love, even though it wasn’t directed toward me. Part of me wanted someone in my life, but then I would think of my mom and the way she devastated my dad. She not only left me, but took him with her. I’ve experienced dark moods and even though I’ve not had suicidal thoughts, the possibility is there. I couldn’t fall in love. If it were to happen and the darkness overtook me, I would be destroying two lives.

I knew I needed to get the self-harm under control. The concussion was a close call. I thought maybe if I understood what happened to my parents it would help me with the anger I felt toward both of them. After all, I was all grown-up now and able to comprehend the situation better. I never contacted the counselor on the card the doctor gave me. I didn’t feel like trudging through my entire history with a stranger who would more than likely give me quick simplified answers and stupid self-help exercises. I figured I’d try to get some answers from my dad.

I took in a deep breath and started up the steps. As I got closer to the door, I felt a tingling in my arms and legs, as my body temperature rose, and my insides quivered. This reaction was ridiculous. I was just going to ask my dad a few simple questions. Questions that had plagued me for years. He owed me this. Turning the doorknob, I took one more deep breath, before pushing the door open. The place looked exactly the same and I was immediately transported back to feeling like the sad little girl who almost suffocated in this house. I heard the TV playing in the family room. I put my suitcase down and headed in that direction. When I caught sight of my dad sitting in his recliner, I gasped. He looked so old and pathetic. I cleared my throat.

Twisting in his chair, he looked over at me, his expression slack. “Mabry?”

“Hey, Dad.” The title stuck in my throat. I hadn’t said that word or thought of him as my father in a long time, so the term felt foreign coming out of my mouth.

He pointed the remote at the TV, turning it off, and then looked at me for several seconds as if he didn’t recognize me. “I didn’t know you were coming here today.”

I huffed out a breath, unable to hide my annoyance. “I left you a message last week, letting you know I was coming for a visit. Didn’t you get it?”

He looked confused. “That was last week? I’m sorry. I lose track of time.”

“Damn, you’d think a father would be a little more excited about his daughter coming for a visit, who hadn’t been home in two years.”

“I am excited. The days kind of run together sometimes. You just surprised me.”

I slid over a stack of newspapers, making room on the sofa, and sat across from him. “So, how have you been?” I asked, looking at the piles of mail, clothes, and takeout boxes strewn about the room. It doesn’t look like he’s cleaned this place since the last time I was here.