Before I Ever Met You

“Give in to me?” he repeats, blinking at me.

“I’ll ruin the one thing I have going for me. This job. This life here. You and I would never become anything, we never could, and so then what happens? I’ll be forced to walk away. To quit and not look back.”

He’s staring at me like I spit in his face and takes a step back. “Why the hell would I force you to walk away?”

“I’ve been down this road before. You of all people know this.”

“Veronica, you know that I’m not like that,” he says imploringly. “I would never put your job here in jeopardy, ever. No matter what happens between us.”

I’m half inclined to believe him. He sounds sincere. And yet…

He continues. “Are you serious? You think I’m that big of a wanker that I would do that?”

My mouth opens and shuts. I want to tell him I want to think the best of him. I want to tell him I don’t trust him at all. I want to tell him that he’s worth the risk and that he’s not worth the risk. I don’t know what I want. Maybe that’s the problem.

“You’re never going to forgive me, are you?” he says bitterly, shaking his head.

“For what you did to Juliet? No. And why should I? You never told me you were sorry for it. You never told me anything that would make me like you a bit better, if not understand you better. You act like nothing happened.”

“Maybe because nothing did happen,” he says this so quietly I barely hear him.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” I yell at him just as a couple of people walk past us to their car, giving us the hairy eyeball as they go. I lower my voice. “Juliet told me and you know she did, so don’t deny it.”

“I’m not denying anything,” he says. “But I am leaving.”

He stalks off down the parking lot, a car’s headlights highlighting him from behind.

I ran away last night, tonight he’s doing the same. I suppose it’s only fair.

I contemplate going after him, but what would the point of another argument be? We’ve already been over it. It’s getting redundant. He’s never going to tell me he’s sorry for what he did and I’m never going to stop hating him over it. Maybe it’s not hatred, but it’s one of those many valid reasons why all of this is a bad idea. I know the battle between fear and desire is raging inside me, and when it comes to Logan fear is going to win each time.

I finish my beer standing there in the parking lot, watching as Logan disappears around the corner, probably to the bar next door. When I’m done, I head back inside Tahiti Nui to find Charlie, totally defeated.

Charlie is now sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender, the other girl nowhere in sight.

“Where the hell did you go?” he asks, looking me up and down as I plunk the empty beer on the counter. “I was afraid you’d been swept off your feet by some strapping young lad.”

I roll my eyes. “Not exactly. I was just talking to Logan.”

“What about?”

“Family drama, really,” I say just as the bartender informs us it’s last call. I order two shots of dark rum.

“Shots?” Charlie asks. “You know I’m driving.”

“They’re both for me,” I tell him.

“Well damn, dude. What kind of family drama is this?” he asks.

I shake my head, unsure if I should get into it or not. Honestly it isn’t Charlie’s business and it’s not really my business either. I know Logan keeps saying that and I keep arguing, but I think he’s right. I fucking hate it when he’s right.

“Double shot drama,” I tell him.

“I’ve been there,” Charlie says. “In fact that’s one reason I’m not looking forward to Thanksgiving next week. I haven’t been back in a few years and I know that my family has just been hoarding all their craziness somewhere, waiting until I arrive to unleash it all.”

“I’ll tell you one thing, if I stay here long-term I don’t see myself going back home for a long time.”

“You are staying here long-term, aren’t you?” Charlie asks.

“Yeah, I am. I mean I hope,” I tell him. “I don’t have plans to leave.”

“Good,” he says.

“So what’s your family drama all about?” I ask and with a big sigh, he starts talking about how his parents are divorced but they play nice every holiday. His older brother is a gambler and has lost his house and his younger sister is a stoner who still lives with the mom, and now his mom is juggling both kids while the father gallivants with his hot new wife. Even though Charlie’s family drama is a lot different than mine, it just goes to show how no family is perfect. Every family is fucked up in one way or another, it’s how you deal with it and how you accept it that makes us different. Denial is the easiest alternative in the short-term but it fucks you up over time.

“And you?” Charlie asks. “You can’t take and not give, sweet thing.”

I finish the second shot, feeling woozy already. “I’ll spare you the boring details. But my mother is the deputy mayor of Chicago, and my father is kind of her bitch, and from the moment we were born, my mother groomed Juliet to be perfect and she groomed me to be just like Juliet. Only I’m not Juliet and never will be. But as far as my mother is concerned, Juliet was the golden child and I was some sort of mistake. Now that Juliet’s dead, she’s this legend I’ll never live up to.” I cough and give Charlie an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I know that sounds callous of me.”

“No, no, I get it,” he says. “I could see how hard that would be. I mean…not to add to it, but Juliet pretty much was perfect.”

“I know,” I grumble.

“But I mean, like sometimes it wasn’t in a nice way…if that makes sense.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know…it doesn’t seem right to talk about her like this.”

“Right or not, we are. If Juliet has something to say about it, she can give us a sign.”

Just then a bottle behind the bar crashes to the ground and smashes to smithereens. People in the bar give a hearty cry, “Opa!” and the bartender gives a bow.

Charlie and I look at each other warily.

“Anyway,” I say quickly. “Keep going.”

“You ever seen that movie the Stepford Wives? With Nicole Kidman?”

“Yeah.”

“Like that. A little too perfect. Always smiling, always had the right thing to say. She never raised her voice, never got upset. She was kind of robotic, and sometimes I thought it was a little bit fake. Like a mask. Like she was hiding something underneath that was anything but.” He throws up a hand. “I don’t know, don’t listen to me. These are just things I think of when I get too high.”

Juliet the Stepford Wife. I can’t help but feel there’s some truth in what he’s saying. But if we only saw the mask, then who was the real Juliet? Did Logan ever see her? Or was she a mystery to him to?

Maybe that’s why he cheated on her, I think. He never felt he was married to someone real to begin with.