My Ex's Ex

Author's note: Yes, it's been a while - busy stage of life at home and work. No, I'm not done writing - plenty of stories in the hopper, just needing time to be finished. And yes, there's still a slight connection to the "Ginaverse" here, but nothing big. Some of the future stories will finally depart from the Ginaverse series, but there are also quite a few left in that world as well.

Thank you all for reading, voting, commenting, following, and messaging.

My Ex's Ex

I must have stood outside his apartment door for 10 minutes trying to work up the courage to knock. It was... it was a lot of things all rolled up together. It was mostly humbling. Not humiliating, just humbling. I thought back to that evening in the club a year earlier:

*****

I'm not really into the club scene, but she was. I'm a pretty vanilla girl, simple tastes, enjoying the peace of a simple life. Dominique, on the other hand... Dominique was a force of nature. She seemed to both exude and feed upon the energy of the party life. I watched with a resigned jealousy as she bounced from one dance partner to the next - all of them boys. Men. Some of them boys, some of them men. I sighed. Some of the men would have even interested me, if I thought I would even be able to hear a conversation over the relentless pulse of the speakers. And if I wasn't already in a relationship. But it wasn't the men that had my attention that night. It was Dominique. My new girlfriend. My lover.

I watched her a little bit, smiling in a distracted way as her blonde hair flipped around. Whenever I got caught sight of her face, she was smiling. She was giving flirty looks to guys around her, but I knew her heart belonged to me. Not that any of them cared about her heart. Her body was for me, too. Every curve, every smooth stretch of her pale skin, every kiss of those painted-pink lips. She seemed to never get tired, even after we got home and it was just the two of us. She would hold me down and beg me to keep getting her off, again and again. In a sense, it was nice to go clubbing just to wear her out a little bit first.

I had run out of steam already, but she was still dancing as if the night had just begun. And then suddenly, she stopped. She looked a little deflated. She walked back over to me and grabbed me by the back of the head. Then without warning, she kissed me. A forceful, possessive kiss. A deep, earnest kiss. A kiss without ambiguity. I felt my jealousy subside. But I could sense that the net jealousy in the room had risen considerably, as every man who had seen our display mourned what might have been - with Dominique. But they weren't with her. I was. Me. In the bright yellow shirt that felt too tight and that betrayed a little more belly fat than I wanted people to notice. I usually dressed in looser shirts. Nica had convinced me to put this on. And the pants that I could barely fit in. I only had them because I hoped/planned to slim down a little. But Nica insisted on picking out my outfit. Her clothes made her look sexy. Mine made me look - maybe like I didn't know what size clothes to buy. But when her lips were on mine, I didn't think about any of those insecurities.

"What inspired that?" I asked, my voice surprisingly shaky.

"Nothing. Just needed to touch you. Taste you," was her reply. I tried to convince myself to believe her. My doubts were justified an hour later when, shortly before we left, I saw my Nica arguing with a bartender. Not arguing, per se. She was being mean and snide and perhaps a little drunk. He was showing remarkable self-control. I walked over and grabbed her arm and picked up enough of the conversation to know there was a history between them. One of her exes, it seemed. As soon as my presence registered with her, she smashed her lips against mine. A boozy, sloppy kiss with no affection in it. I felt used.

Nica mumbled that she needed a piss and stumbled towards the back hall. I pulled out my card to settle our bill. The bartender just shook his head and waved me off. He looked ready to say something, then checked himself and shut his mouth.

My fears pushed their way past my lowered inhibitions and I felt the need to put him down. "She doesn't love you anymore. She's moved on. You should really stop trying to hurt her. It just makes you look petty and childish," I said. I knew that I was making shit up, but I hoped I was at least hitting close to the mark. Besides, I felt embarrassed not knowing anything about this guy. My hands brushed nervously through the locks of my long black hair. Usually they hung down in big curls past my shoulder blades, but I kept pulling my hair to the front. Maybe hoping to cover up the excessive cleavage Nica's choice of shirts had given me. I have big boobs, yes, to match my naturally thicker frame. But I don't need everyone around me getting to look at the top 5 inches of them!

The guy paused from mixing the drink in his hand and gave me a sad look. "Dommi doesn't know how to love someone yet. There are some really deep wounds there that will always get in the way. I hope you can help her see that."

My heart burned in anger. "Fuck you!" I spat back, angrier than I had any right to be. Jealous of the woman I knew I didn't deserve. Scared that he might be right, even if it would take me a year to realize it. "Maybe you just didn't know how to treat her. She sure enough knows how to love. More than you ever will! If you had really cared about her, she wouldn't be with me now, would she?" It made no sense, and I knew that as soon as I had finished. Thankfully, at that moment, Nica came back to my side and leaned against me, her taller frame resting against my sturdy, shorter one. She was agitated and eager to leave. Her eyes glared at the bartender as I escorted her towards the door.

After a little stalking on Nica's social media accounts that night, I found the bartender. His name was Micah. They had dated, pretty seriously it seemed, about 18 months earlier. She never spoke of him. She never spoke of anyone in her past. She made me feel like I was the only person she had ever cared about, even though she could do so much better than a wallflower like me. I felt like the luckiest gal in the world to be with Nica. I resented Micah and anyone else like him for having even the smallest piece of her heart. At the time, I felt like he probably deserved all I had said and much more besides.

*****

And that's why knocking on his door a year later was so humbling. That's why it took me two trips to his door, back to the stairs, then back to his door again before I finally had the courage - or desperation - to knock. I waited a few seconds before deciding that he must be at work (it was evening time, after all) and turning to leave. But just as I turned and stepped away, the sound of the door unlocking made me freeze. And almost pee a little out of nervousness.

The door opened an inch or two, prevented from opening further by a chain at eye level (his eye level, not mine, which was about 8 inches lower). He didn't say anything. Just looked at me, waiting. I guess I expected at least some reaction. I thought he would surely recognize me. After a few seconds he raised his eyebrows and gave me a bored, impatient look. "Yeah?"

"Are...are you Micah?" I stammered, wrapping my arms tight around me body in a vain effort to feel more comfortable or secure.

He sighed. "Yeah." It was a statement this time. Still he made no move to open the door.

No point in beating around the bush, I thought. "Do you know where Dominique might be?"

He couldn't hide the surprise in his eyes. Then they narrowed as he examined me. Then they widened in recognition. All that in the space of about three seconds. Then a look of smugness. "Nope." And with that he shut the door.

Alright, I guess I deserved that. I expected as much. But for once in my life, I wasn't done. I knocked again. A few seconds later, he opened the door, still leaving the chain connected.

"Look," he began, "I don't care - "

"I'm sorry, OK." I interrupted. "I was rude to you. But she's gone and I need help finding her."

Micah slipped off the chain and opened the door a bit more, leaning out to address me. "Look, uh..."

"Nadia."

"Nadia, I'll give you the same advice you tried to give me - just move on. As soon as you do you'll see that she wasn't -"

"Shetookmycar," I blurted out.

Micah was visibly surprised by my explanation. I went on. "Yes, she left me. Yes, it sucks. Yes, you were right that she has some serious serious issues that make a real relationship impossible. I'm more than ready to move on. But she disappeared and she took my car..." I got more agitated as I spoke and angry tears started forming. "And I'd rather not skip straight to calling the police, which I know might be pathetic but if there's any chance I can just track her down and get my fucking car back since I'm still making payments on it..." by that point I was yelling and ugly crying, "then I can just put this whole shitty thing behind me and move on. So do you have any idea where she might have gone when she left? She's not answering her phone anymore."

The tears had stopped and with a few sniffly breaths I was regaining some self-control. Nevertheless, Micah was looking anxiously up and down the hallway and then ushering me into his apartment. At a more rational moment, I may have considered following him unwise. But I was not thinking straight at the time.

"Look, Natalie," he began.

"Nadia," I corrected him.

"Nadia. I have absolutely no idea where she is. I haven't spoken to her in like a year, and you were there for that. That was you at the club, right?"

"Yeah," I said softly. "We had just started dating."

Micah gave me a look that might have been pity, then ran his fingers through his hair. I took a minute to measure him up. At the bar he wore a tight t-shirt. I remembered. It showed off his body which, to be honest, wasn't, like, athletically toned. But he was decently built and in fair shape. But tonight he was wearing a loose tank-top. His hair was very dark and thick, and it was long enough to hang past his eyes if he let it. His skin looked well-tanned, but I wondered if he was maybe of some kind of Mediterranean origin.

"I'm sorry," he said, bringing my focus back. "I really don't know."

"Well who would know?" I tried.

Micah laughed softly, "I... I have really tried to put that stage of my life behind me. I know the family thing for her was..."

"Messy," I concluded.

"Messy," he agreed. "And I wouldn't know how to find them anyway. She had a few friends in town. Maybe she's staying with one of them? But she never really kept friends long."

"I know," I replied sadly. "But I don't think she's in town." I pulled out my phone. "She's still trying to get a big following on Instagram, and she just posted this picture to show off her new haircut." I found the picture and showed Micah. It was Dominique smiling at the camera, which she held in one hand, and making a peace sign with the other. She seemed happy and carefree, enjoying a sunny day in the outdoors. "There's some stuff in the background that looks more country than you find around here, so I-"

"Son of a BITCH!" Micah exclaimed, snatching my phone from my hand. His jaw was clenched and his eyes burned a hole in the screen. I was afraid to say anything. After a few seconds, he gently returned my phone to me. "She's got my grandmother's diamond ring on a chain around her neck. I'm going to get that back."

"The ring?" I asked. "She said it belonged to her great aunt or something..."

"You still believe everything she told you?" Micah snapped.

"No," I said glumly. "But how are you -"

"See that blurry structure in the background? I know where that is. I took her there once."

"Is it nearby?"

"No. It's about an 8 or 9 hour drive from here. I can't believe she would have the audacity to..." the rest of his statement became a series of muttered oaths and indecipherable rantings. Micah was already up and moving, pulling out a duffel bag and tossing items into it. It seemed like he had forgotten that I was there. After walking back to what I presume was his bedroom, he returned with an armload of clothes that got added to the bag. He was also pacing about, calling people to take over shifts at work. He looked over at a clock above the stove and seemed to be talking quietly to himself when I finally cleared my throat. That seemed to startle him back to an awareness of my existence. He quickly turned to look at me.

"I totally forgot you were here," he stated in amazement.

"I'm a librarian," I explained. "It happens."

"Well, I'm not going to drive overnight," he told me. "But I'm going to leave super early in the morning. I guess if you give me your number I can call you once I find that little b-"

"Or I could come with you," I declared. And yes, I declared it. I didn't suggest or propose. I mustered up the last reserves of my shattered self-confidence and invited myself to go on a road trip with my ex-girlfriend's ex-boyfriend. While he had been preparing, I had been thinking. Eight or nine hours away. It was Thursday night. I had taken a personal day for Friday, and Monday was a public holiday, so I was off for the next four days anyway.

Micah seemed ready to object, but I wasn't done yet. "If you do find her, and if she still has my car, how else am I going to get it back?" He silently acknowledged the sense that made. "And maybe two heads and four eyes will be better for actually finding her once we get where we're going."

"You're not at all worried about driving out of state with a man you literally just met?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I really need my car. And I'll take a picture of you and of your license plate and send them to some friends so that they can call the police if they don't hear from me soon."

Micah laughed at that. I didn't. He stopped laughing. "OK, that makes a lot of sense. Leaving first thing in the morning. Like... before dawn. Do want to crash on the couch or something?"

I gave him an look of mock horror. "Do you think I showed up here ready for a road trip? I'm going to call for a ride home so I can pack, dummy. But do you think you could pick me up in the morning?"

"Yeah, yeah, no problem," he assured me. We swapped numbers and Micah made note of my address. The cab showed up a few minutes later and I hurried home to get ready. "Just...please," I said to him before I left. "You're really going to pick me up, right? You're not going to ditch me?"

"Whatever Dommi told you, I'm not half the asshole she accuses me of being," he said sincerely.

Well, 'Dommi' had told me nothing about him, but nevertheless, I hoped he was right.

*****

Micah texted me at 5am to say he was on his way. I was already awake. I hadn't slept much. My heart was overflowing with anxious thoughts: Would we find her? What would I say to her? What would she say to me? Why did I care so much? What if she's gone already? What if Micah decides to leave without me? What will I do if I can't get my car back?

So it was with a mixture of relief and heart-stopping terror that I saw the message that Micah was en route. I met him at the curb outside my condo. Without a word he popped open the trunk of a modest, simple-looking sedan, letting me throw my small bag in next to his duffel bag from the night before. I climbed into the passenger seat and looked at him behind the wheel. He faced straight ahead, his eyes staring, his jaw set. He seemed grim, determined. He said nothing. Once I had closed the door and buckled up, he slowly pulled out and started the long drive to... and suddenly I realized I hadn't the faintest idea where we were headed. Nor had I acted out my plan of taking pictures to send to family in case I disappeared.

Not that it should have mattered, but I didn't feel nervous with Micah. I felt an odd sort of bond. My girlfriend's - excuse me, my ex-girlfriend's ex-boyfriend. Someone who understood on some level the hurt I was feeling. Less acute for him, probably, but present nonetheless. The betrayal and frustration. The self-doubt. The desire to fix what's wrong with Nica mixed with the rational understanding that such healing was far outside of what we could hope to offer.

*******

I must have fallen asleep shortly after we got on the interstate. I woke when the sun was fully over the horizon. We were headed east, that much I could tell. Music played softly on the radio - classic rock from the 90's. Micah noticed me stirring.

"Need a stop?" he asked.

"Not yet," I mumbled.

And that was it. He seemed no more interested in talking than I was at that point. It would be another 120 miles before we spoke again.

"I'm stopping," was all he said. He took an exit and found a clean-ish gas station.

"Are we stopping later for food, or should I buy something here?" I asked as I returned from the restroom. Micah was just finishing filling up the tank.

He yawned and looked around. Noticing a fast food place down the road, he nodded that direction and asked, "You OK with drive-thru?"

I had always felt somewhat sensitive about my size when I was with Nica. It made me more careful about what I ate.

"Drive-thru is fine," I answered, feeling a little free from the pressure of measuring up to Nica.

A few minutes later we were back on the interstate, ever eastward. We munched our food in silence. As I became more awake and alert, I found my anxieties reasserting themselves in my mind. Fears about what awaited us at the end of our drive. Fears about what my life would be like a week, a month, a year from now. Fear about what Nica might say. She hadn't given a reason for leaving. She just sort of... left. Said our relationship had "run its course" and she was moving on. What was wrong with me? What hadn't she found lovable?

And the more time I had to think on this long, silent drive, the more upset I felt. I finally couldn't take it anymore and spoke up. "Can we please talk or something? My brain is messing with me something awful."

Micah glanced over at me as he finished chewing a bite of his bagel. "Thinking about her?" he asked.

"Yeah. Obviously," I replied with some annoyance. Would talking really help get my mind off Nica if she was the inevitable topic of our conversation?

"OK," Micah said. "What do you do back home?"

"Librarian," I answered.

"Right, you mentioned that. Where?"

"Public library. Downtown."

"Is that your long-term plan?"

"No," I smiled. "It pays the bills during grad school."

"Cool - how many more semesters do you have left?"

I frowned. I didn't like where this was headed, but Micah couldn't have known that. "I finished about 5 months ago."

"Oh. So, now what?"

"I... am looking for a job."

"Tough to find something in your field?"

"Physical therapy? No. But..." Micah stayed politely silent while I weighed my words. "I was trying to find something in town, something local. But it's a small town."

"Why not go somewhere else?"

I felt my lower lip begin to tremble.

"Oh," Micah said softly. "Got it."

Yeah, it was that pathetic. I had passed up some really good opportunities in other places because I didn't want to leave Nica, who wasn't willing to relocate. Apparently I had been much more committed to the relationship than she had been.

I cleared my throat and asked, "What about you? Bartender?"

Micah laughed, then took a sip of his drink. "No. That was just to pay bills during grad school. I left that job two months ago. I crunch numbers now. Working on my CPA license."