“Excuse me, Lib, can I have a word with you?” A knock at my door later in the day has my head moving from the files I’m working on, to find Mitch standing in my doorway.
“Sure can. Come on in.” He pauses on the threshold, letting his eyes roam around my office before stepping inside and taking a seat across from my desk. Today I’m in the office catching up on paperwork while Renee is on shift with the boys.
“So what’s up, Mitch?” I press, after watching him for a few beats. There’s something different in the way he’s holding himself today. As if he’s unsure how to act in order to appear relaxed.
“Umm, I have a favor to ask.” The quiver in his voice doesn’t hide his nerves, which in turn makes me uneasy.
Please, don’t let it be anything serious.
“Okay then, ask away.” I try not to let my concern show. For all I know, his question is something personal and maybe he’s embarrassed to ask.
“Umm, well I’m hoping maybe you could tell me why Hetch stopped coming around.” A flush of adrenalin tingles through my body at the mention of his name.
Crap, I should have realized this was coming.
Hetch not only has dropped out of my life, but he's dropped out of Mitch’s too.
“Oh, Mitch.” I shift my weight briefly and take a second to think about how to word my next sentence. “I know he’s really busy at the moment. If he could be here, I’m sure he would.” I try to soften the rejection for him.
If only someone could soften it for me.
I haven’t told Mitch what’s been happening with Hetch. The first week he missed one-on-one, Mitch took it fine.
The second week, I could tell he was confused, maybe even a little hurt, and by the third, he was angry.
“Yeah, he said he’s been busy, but I thought maybe I had done something wrong.”
“You’ve spoken to him?” My question slaps the air with contempt, and I have to remind myself not to react the way I want.
I had no idea they were still in contact.
“Yeah, he’s texted me a couple times.” Mitch somehow misses my annoyance, revealing how often he and Hetch have been keeping in contact.
Of course, he’s messaging Mitch. He’s only ignoring you, Liberty.
“Well, I’m certain you have done nothing wrong, bud. I know Hetch has a lot going on and when things calm down for him, he’ll be back.” I surprise myself with my easy tone, despite the tightening of my chest.
While I am relieved he hasn’t abandoned Mitch completely, I still have to squash down the disappointment he hasn’t contacted me.
“Well, maybe you could still talk to him. ‘Cause you know, the big brother program starts next week, and I thought you know, he’s already like my mentor, and I don't want anyone else. Maybe he could do it.” He continues to break my heart.
“You want me to ask him to join our big brother program?” I have to repeat the question slowly to allow myself some time to control the rolling heat spiraling in my belly.
The big brother program is one of our main volunteer programs at Haven. It kind of works the same way as what Hetch does for Mitch. Only it’s a little more hands on, and more frequent. Committing to the program means committing to two hours, every week. Joining in on group outings, plus being readily available if needed.
I’m not sure Hetch is up for it.
Mitch is going to get hurt here.
“You think he would?” His hands clasp in front of his stomach, twisting his fingers to crack each knuckle. It’s a habit he does when nervous and even though there is nothing wrong with it, I can’t stand the sound.
“Gross, Mitch. Don’t do that, you know I can’t handle it,” I scold while I figure out how to deal with his request. I don’t want Mitch to think he has no chance, but I also don’t want to give him false hope.
“Sorry.” He releases his hands and shakes them out in front of him. “So do you think you can talk to him?” he presses, impatient for my answer.
“I’ll talk to him, Mitch,” I concede, because what else can I say?
I’ll talk to him all right, maybe with my fist.
“Thanks, Liberty.” He stands, his earlier tense stance relaxing from his shoulders. “He’s not going to say no to you.” He starts to walk out, his swagger a little too cocky.
“Hang on a minute, Mitch,” I call him back. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up, okay? I’ll ask, but if he has too much going on, I don’t want you to be upset.” I try to lay it out for him the best way I can. He needs to know there is a possibility Hetch may not even be able to commit to the program, or want to commit to the program.
“It’s all good, Liberty. I know he’ll want to do it.” He doesn’t heed my warning, only making my belly coil tighter.
Fucking Hetch.
I don’t bother pushing the issue; there’s no point. Mitch has made up his mind. In his head, Hetch hangs the moon, and even if he hasn’t been by in three weeks, he’s still the best thing since sliced bread.