My Ex's Ex

I think it unnerved her that I wasn't saying anything. Truth was, I didn't trust myself to speak. Nica reached her hand towards me. "Come here, Squishy. I can't tell you how much I missed your little body. I didn't know how much I loved you until I didn't have you. I can't wait to get back home." I winced at the term 'Squishy.' It had been something she often called me, but it was starting to feel like a put-down. I stepped back. I suppose she could tell that this wasn't working. So she turned to Micah. I almost laughed at the thought that she expected that to work.

"Micah," she pleaded. "In my heart, I knew you would find me here. I was lost and you've always been my anchor. I must have come here because I needed you. I'm all clean and ready for a new start." Micah didn't answer. Didn't even flinch. I heard his breathing intensify. Nica switched topics. "Mikey, you know what they do to people in these jails. Are you going to let them do that to me? Are you going to let them hurt me? Won't you help me? I don't deserve this." Appealing to his compassion. Smart. But I was starting to see her as the snake she really was. "Take me to your house and punish me yourself, if you want," she suggested. Dear God, was she trying to seduce him right in front of me? I heard Micah scoff. I didn't dare turn to look at him.

Nica continued, lowering her voice and giving Micah a wicked look. "Take us both, if you want." She nodded her head my direction. "She'll do whatever we tell her to. Total pushover. You can have us both. However you want." She was licking her lips, like a predator waiting to pounce. Watching for Micah's reaction.

He leaned a bit towards me and asked, "I think I've had just about enough closure. You?"

I nodded and replied, "Yeah, I'm good."

Nica's face went pale. "Wait!" she shouted. We didn't. Before leaving the hallway, Micah said to her, "I'll have Roger... sorry, Officer Mendoza... swing by the house and pick up your stuff. I'll also let him know that if anything happens to that house, you're suspect number one."

I expected screaming, curses, desperate promises. I heard silence. And maybe sobbing.

Officer Mendoza assured us that Dominique wouldn't be locked up long, especially if neither of us pressed charges. We would put her bags on the porch and he would pick them up before her release, and he assured us he'd keep an eye on the place until they were certain she was long gone. He also gave me the keys to my car and apartment that they had taken from her. They also took the key she had to Micah's parents' house and gave it to him. "I feel like we should probably keep all these keys," Roger said, flipping through the four or five other keys on her ring. "Who knows who they really belong to?"

"Keys? What keys? I didn't record any keys on the ledger," said a smirking middle-aged black woman who was the part-time deputy. Roger tossed the set of keys across the room and the woman caught them with one hand, immediately dropping them into a drawer at her desk. I liked this place.

*******

The time had passed quickly that day. By the time we were leaving the police station, my stomach was growling for dinner. Micah recommended a place nearby. Having grown accustomed to the bars and diners during our visit, that evening's dinner place made me feel a little underdressed. But we were given great service and had great food and no one made me feel out of place. Micah and I talked about everything but Nica for two hours. Families. His parent's accident. His nieces and nephews. My journey from planning to play symphonic oboe to dreams of changing the world through social work and then ending up in physical therapy. We shared a few college stories and wondered if we had ever crossed paths during our studies. ("I would've remember," he assured me. I blushed. He was being kind.) After paying our bill, Micah claimed he was ready to get something to drink. The waitress heard and offered a list of dessert wines. We thanked her with a laugh and she rolled her eyes. "If you're going to Bullseye's, I'll probably see you there later," she sighed. "Along with half the town."

We skipped Bullseye's and went back to the bar from the first night, where, after a few beers, I was forced to join in some line dancing. As the hour got later, the line dancing turned to the random, mixed up, free-for-all dancing like you see at wedding receptions, where pop, country, rock and hip-hop alternate so that everyone hears something they like. I found myself loosening up during a song from my high school days, and there was a nice looking hunk of a farmer boy next to me on the dance floor. He was easily a few inches over six feet tall and had that solid, lean build that is fun to run your hands along. I playfully bumped him with my hips and got more than a playful bump back. Sure, I was excited about getting my car back. I was feeling free from Nica. I was a little more than buzzed. And I hadn't been with a man in a long time. Micah had gotten my mind wandering down familiar paths of lust, but he hadn't given me so much as a second glance in three days, and this guy next to me was looking fine.

I wasn't planning to go home with him or anything, but it was nice to put my hands in his back pockets and to likewise feel his solid grip sliding down my back and onto my hips. It was just one song, and then we parted ways. He offered me a drink, but I refused, choosing instead to head back to a table that Micah and I had been using. I was tingling a little bit and knew I was feeling a little wet between my legs. I felt, for just a brief moment, sexy.

As I caught my breath, I looked around for Micah and saw him talking in the corner to Aria, the girl who had come by the house earlier. After an initial twinge of jealousy, I tried to see her differently. My experience with Nica had revealed the potential emptiness that even beautiful people feel. But at the same time, someone like Aria could attract a person so easily. For me it took a lot more work and time.

I watched the conversation and wondered what it was about. Aria was unhappy. Micah was... sympathetic? She reached out and put her hand on him. I knew that technique. She's inviting more touch. The ball is in his court. He could take her home if he wanted. He reaches over and takes her hand and gently removes it. He lifts it up and gives it a little squeeze, then sets it on the counter next to them. She's appealing to his compassion. And to be honest, why doesn't he do it? She seems nice. They're on friendly terms. She might just be asking for one night. One moment to feel his touch. To feel his hands and to know that every touch, every caress communicates acceptance, enjoyment, appreciation. She could give him so much pleasure, and all he has to do is make her feel wanted for a few hours! Even if it's not going to last, that feeling of being wanted by someone can boost your self-esteem long after the moment.

Aria and Micah were finishing up their conversation. She didn't like what he said, but she wasn't angry. She looked around the room and I quickly looked down at my drink before she could see me staring. A few seconds later, Micah sat down with me.

"Not my business, but I see you looking around the room. If you want help knowing which girls play for your team, I could go crash at a friend's place or..."

I opened my mouth to object. Or explain. Or something. But a middle-aged woman came by and interrupted us. She had on a dirty apron and leaned forward, spreading her arms and putting them on the corners of the table. "Micah! I heard you were in town. And had a whole thing with that bad news girl who'd been nosing around."

"Hey Mrs. Matterson!"

"Cecile," she insisted.

"Sorry, can't help it."

Cecile turned to me and said, "I spend one year teaching fifth grade and now I can't get a single kid in town to use my first name. What's your name, sweetie?"

"Nadia," I answered, unable to contain a smile. Cecile was bubbly and contagiously happy.

"So is this a thing here?" she asked, waving a hand back and forth between us. " I heard you had a pretty thing joining your little quest. And you were trying to track down Gertie's ring. Is it for... someone special?"

Micah and I both laughed. "Oh no," he answered. "Nadia isn't into guys."

"Yes I am!" I quickly answered, too loudly, probably. And clearly a little hurt by the misunderstanding.

Micah's eyes went wide with surprise. Cecile stood up and laughed. "Sorry. Foot, meet mouth! I'll leave you two to have an awkward conversation without me."

As she walked away, Micah was fumbling with words. "But you.. And I thought... I didn't..." Then he took a deep breath. "I'm an idiot." he said. "I just assumed. So you're..."

I sang in the manner of N*Synch, "Bi, bi, bi!" Then I giggled. And got embarrassed. And suggested we should get another round of drinks.

"I think that's a bad idea," he objected. "You're... on your way to drunk. And I'm still able to drive, at least. Let's head out."

"But you just offered to help me hook up with someone," I teased. "Or was that offer only good if I want a girl? Were you expecting something like what Nica offered you?"

Micah got serious, "Yeah, about that..."

"I'm just playing," I muttered, pulling out my wallet.

"No, no," Micah objected waving his hand. "I got it."

"Fuck you," I slurred, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "You got dinner, I got drinks. It's fair."

Micah held his palms toward me and backed off. I went to the bar and paid our tab while Micah went over to Aria for one final word of goodbye. While I was waiting, sexy farm boy from earlier came back over and re-extended the invitation for a drink or another dance.

"I'm heading out of here, cowboy," I drawled.

"Aren't you here with someone?" Micah suddenly asked from behind me. His voice was soft but tense.

The other man blushed a little and said, "Technically, yeah, but..." he waved his hand my direction. I made a confused face and the guy said to Micah, "If you have a chance to upgrade... You get it, right?"

"Go on, before you make a fool of yourself," Micah warned him. The guy narrowed his eyes and straightened up a bit. He was younger and way stronger than Micah, so I hoped this wasn't coming to a fight. Fortunately, a well-manicured hand grabbed the large bicep of the man in front of me and a thin red-head tugged at his arm, oblivious to the tension. "Bryce, come on! Dance with me!" Bryce took a few steps backwards towards the dance floor, staring Micah down. Then he turned, smiled, and started grinding against the redhead as they were enveloped by the crowd.

*******

We headed out to Micah's car. "Just make sure your car isn't blocking anyone," he teased me. "Alan doesn't work Sundays, so you'd be stuck here until Monday."

I stumbled with him towards his now-familiar vehicle and Micah began the drive back to his place. "Take me to the lookout spot," I suddenly suggested.

"What?"

Sitting up straight, I looked over at him in the driver's seat. Take me to one of those beautiful scenic overlooks you mentioned. It's a clear night. And I want to see it." The crisp night air had invigorated me a little, but standing up had reminded me how much booze was actually in my system.

Micah was quiet. He looked over at me a few times. Then, after another mile, he slowed down and turned onto an unmarked dirt road that started to incline. Fifteen minutes later, he suddenly slowed down and turned again, this time onto a gravel path. Another minute later and we stopped. There was no fence or rail, no markings, just a ledge leading to a long slope down. He turned off the car and the headlights and rolled down the windows. There was a chill in the air but no clouds in the sky. The moon was bright and half full. It shone down on farms, forests, and fields. Little dots of light all around showed where families were settled in for the night. Animal sounds I couldn't discern pierced the silence. More stars than I had ever in my life known were in the sky.

"Why did you ever leave this?" I asked.

Micah laughed softly. "It's not all this," he explained. "The price for this is... being trapped. Not much of a future. Limited options."

"You mean girls?"

"I mean jobs. Careers, even. You run a shop, you run a farm, you wait tables... It's pretty limited."

"Oh."

"And yes, girls, too. There's only a few dozen of us our age in the whole county. A lot of people pair off early. And if you don't meet someone that... that... that really connects..."

"Sounded like you connected with Aria," I snickered.

"Not in that way," he sighed.

"So you're not into hook-ups?" I asked.

"Aria wasn't just a hook-up. But... yeah, hook-ups have their place. But if that's all you get, it's like trying to live on a healthy diet of donuts."

"I like donuts," I replied, feeling a little hungry for one.

"But could you live on only donuts?"

"Maybe."

"I'm serious."

"I know. But I'm..."

Micah didn't press. He just stared forward at the countless stars

"Do you want a donut right now?" I asked.

"I'm kinda full," he replied, putting his hand on his belly. "But there's a gas station that gets leftovers from the bakery in the evening, they might have some. Not fresh, but close enough. It's not too far out of the way back to-"

"No, doofus. It's a metaphor. Do you wanna hook-up? Now? With me? Can I be your donut?" Had I really just said that?

Without looking over, Micah reached across the console and put his hand on mine. I began to lean towards him until he said, "No."

I quickly leaned back, feeling gutted. I had put myself out there. And he didn't want me. I yanked my hand away.

"Not when you're drunk," he explained.

"I'm sober enough," I argued.

"Not sober enough for me," he sighed. "And that really, really sucks."

"Sucks? Why?" His words weren't making sense in my fuzzy brain.

"Because you are the sexiest, most desirable woman for a hundred miles, and it was a lot easier being this close to you when I thought you weren't into men. If you were making the same offer while sober..."

He shifted in his seat and adjusted his pants. Then he leaned forward and started the car.

"I'm sober enough!" I insisted again.

"Still no," he said firmly, his voice soft.

In desperation, I pulled my shirt over my head. I reached back and unclipped my bra, letting my full breasts hang free. "Sober enough to do that!" I declared confidently.

Micah was already turning us around and heading back down the gravel path.

"Shit!" I muttered. "It's cold!"

I pulled my shirt back over my head but couldn't find one of the arm holes, leaving me to struggle inside my shirt for the better part of five minutes. I could hear Micah's laughter next to me. He finally, mercifully, pulled over just before we returned to the main road and helped me get my shirt on. In the process, his hand moved down my naked side, pausing next to my breast. I felt his hand tremble, and I held my breath as I waited for him to make his move. His move was to abruptly jerk his hand back and put the car in gear. I sighed and slumped back.

"You couldn't even get your shirt on and you think you know what you want?" Micah muttered.

"It's a confusing shirt!" I complained. He only shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm not a pushover," I added.

"Huh?"

"What Nica said. I'm not a pushover."

"I never believed you were. And the fact that she talked as if I would do those kinds of things tells you how much you should trust what she says about you. Never believe what she says about you. It's not true."

"Sober enough," I mumbled, yawning.

"It's not true," I heard him whisper again.

*********

The next thing I remember was waking up with a splitting headache. The smell of coffee in the house, water by my bed, and the smell of sausages on the grill? It was mid-morning, past nine. I stumbled about getting up and got ready to apologize to Micah. He brushed it off and said he'd settle for a simple, "I told you so" about me being too drunk.

We didn't talk much for the next few hours while my body rehydrated and got back into working shape. We had missed our window for departure that day. It would have to be a Monday drive. Micah was planning to stay until then anyway, wanting to clean up around the house and property.

We gathered up Nica's few things and put the bags on the porch for Roger. When he showed up, he told us Nica was till trying to sweet-talk her way out, oblivious to his own orientation. I got a ride back to town with Roger so I could retrieve my car and fill it up with gas before the drive home.

When I got back, Micah was off in the distance, pulling some weeds from around the far fence. He spent a lot of time outdoors that day, trimming a few bushes, cutting some more wood, checking on the fence. I almost got the sense he was avoiding me. Not that I blamed him. I had probably made things intolerably awkward. I tried to help out as best as I could. While Micah worked outside, I washed dishes, cleaned some of the sheets and towels we had used, dusted some of the rooms. I felt so properly domestic.

We snacked throughout the day on the few perishable foods in the house and had just enough leftovers for a satisfying dinner. As we cleared up the dishes, Micah said, "I'm going to go shower."

"Wait," I replied. He paused, leaning back against the sink. I closed my eyes and screwed up the courage to shoot my shot. He had rejected me once, and maybe it was just because of the circumstances. If there was any chance...

"I don't expect to see you again after we get back. I mean... we're not going to naturally cross paths. So let me say, first, thank you for bringing me and for helping me and for being just... a really wonderful guy during what has been a very difficult week of my life."

He opened his mouth to reply and I raised a hand to shush him.

"Second, thank you for being... I don't know, chivalrous?... last night. In retrospect, I stand by the offer I made, but I appreciate you trying to do the right thing and not wanting to take advantage of a drunk woman."

He again tried to speak but I held up my hand again. "Almost done," I promised him. "Third and finally, I think you're a great guy and I wouldn't mind seeing you again in some way. I wish we had met under different circumstances. And I do worry that every time I see you I'm going to think of... her. But oh well. Can't change that, I guess. But, I guess what I'm saying is... if you'd be open to hanging out sometime, I would be interested."

Micah waited a moment, smirking. "Can I talk now?" he asked with exaggerated deference.

"If you have anything to say, then yes," I smirked in return.

"God, I don't even remember point number one. I barely heard number three. I'm stuck on point number two." He was looking up and moving his hands slightly, trying to shape a thought, I guess.

"Point two? About not taking advantage of a drunk woman?"

"Yeah. Sooo... that paints me in a better light than I deserve." Not what I expected, but I was guardedly curious. He continued, "So you think that I said 'No, not while you're drunk,' because I didn't want to take advantage of you?"

"Thaaaat... seemed to be the vibe I got from you?" I replied, confused.

Micah sighed and pulled out his phone. After a few taps and swipes, he pulled up a message and handed the phone to me. It was from "Dommie" and seemed to be a long diatribe from... a while back.

"Start after the gif of a dude flipping the bird," he instructed. I sat down at the kitchen table and began reading. Micah sat down across from me.

Fuck you, you self-righteous asshole. I didn't hear you complaining about "substances" when there was free weed to be had! Or when you get my ass when I'm drunk. But you wanna know why I'm always getting drunk or high lately? It's because of you! No self-respecting woman would be able to bring herself to be with your pathetic ass unless she was somehow in an altered state. I need to fry my brain for a few hours so I can tolerate watching your sorry face grunt and drool through that cringey experience you call 'making love.' It's not love. It's not even fucking - you're too weak for that. It was pity sex every time I spread my legs for your puny pecker or put my lips on your little junk. And to hear you talk on and on and blah blah blah about feelings and the future and growth and all that other shit you care about, how could anyone stand to be with you unless they had some "substances" to keep them sane? So don't preach to me about "caring for my body" and "having self-respect". The most self-respecting thing I ever did was leave you. And I'm caring for my body by making sure you don't ever touch it and stink it up again.