It’s been a week — could be two, I don’t know — since Magnolia and me. I’m not tracking time. I don’t care either. It’s good. It’s all good.
Haven’t looked at my phone, don’t want to see the fucking parade all of England will have rolled out for her and Ballentine’s reunion. I’m not ready for it but I am good.
I’ve been having a sick time since we called it. Haven’t been that checked in though, if I’m honest. Wouldn’t have known about Christian fucking Hemmes’ little sex tape if Koa hadn’t told me. Ran Face over to his house because that was the right thing to do but it didn’t go to plan —
There are things I could do for her, to make her feel better. I could take her out for dinner, take her shopping, ask her to cook me something maybe — but I don’t want to stop what I’m doing.
I had to stop for a minute when Miguel and me drove her over, but I just felt like shit. Like this kind of missing a person that feels like a screaming I can’t turn off in my head. Never had that before.
How the silences go stupid loud now and drag on for too long, how empty my bathroom sink looks without all her shit clogging it up.
I don’t know how much time it’s been, I don’t know how many girls I’ve seen since. A lot. No repeats. I’m done with repeats, won’t get familiar with a girl again.
That’s what I keep referring to what happened with me and Magnolia.
“I just got too familiar.”
Not sure anyone believes it. Hurts less though.
There’s a different girl in my bed now than the one who was there this morning, and you can say whatever the fuck you want about Tinder but it’s good for a fuck in a pinch. Haven’t had to leave the house since the break-up and girls have been here back-to-back.
There has been one downfall though. Every single fucking girl has said at one point or another, “Aren’t you with Magnolia Parks?”
“No.” I hope they take the wince I make when they say her name to me as disgust at the thought.
“Just — the papers.” They all say. “You know, there are photos,”
“She’s my baby sister’s friend, that’s all,” I’d lie. “We’ve fucked a few times.”
“Oh!” They’d nod like they get it. Like they could ever.
They’d kiss me again after that until — eventually they’d pull back and look up at me.
“What’s she like?”
“What’s who like?” I’ll ask, jaw tight.
They flick their eyes like I’m an idiot. “Magnolia.”
“Fine.” I shrug. “She’s fine.”
“Is she funny?”
“Yes.” I’ll sigh.
“Are her clothes good?”
“They’re clothes.” I’ll breathe out through my nose.
“Is she tall?”
“I don’t know—” I’ll shrug. “No. Not to me.”
“Is she as beautiful as she seems?”
That one, however they word it — and all of them do — every single time it catches me off guard.
“More,” I say and then I don’t know, maybe it’s obvious, like it’s leaking out of me that I love her because they all look at me like I’m broken and then we hook up.
There’s a knock at my office door and the door opens — Kekoa fills the frame.
There’s a girl under the desk, head bobbing away, and I clear my throat to let her know.
Flick my eyes over to my old friend. “I’m busy.”
“Yeah, you’re always busy these days.” He gives me an unimpressed look.
“What do you want?” I shake my head and he gestures behind him.
“Why don’t you wrap this up and you and me go have a talk?”
Then he leaves.
Fucking buzzkill. Like I can finish up now.
“Pour yourself a drink, yeah?” I point to my bar in the corner. “I’ll be right back.”
I step outside my office, close the door behind me and stare up at Kekoa, unimpressed.
“Thanks for that.”
“Anytime.” He nods. “You good?”
“Oi—” I shake my head. “I swear to God, if you just interrupted me to ask me if I’m okay I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” he asks, bored, stretching his arms over his head.
“I’m good,” I tell him with a look.
He shakes his head. “You’re not.”
“I am,” I tell him, defiantly.
“You fell in love—”
“Who the fuck told you that?” I say loudly.
“You did.” He whacks me in the chest. “When you shoved her into my arms that night with the power outage.”
I scowl at him. “I dumped her that night.”
“Yeah, not like you to overreact to a revelation or anything.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“Hardly stuck anyway, did it?” He rolls his eyes.
“What is your point?” I ask, exasperated.
“My point is, instead of fucking your way through this—” He grabs me by the shoulder how I reckon a father would. “—massive loss you’re going through… You loved her. You fell in love with her — you gave her up to keep her safe, that was an incredible, admirable thing you did.” He gives me this look, like he’s implying what I’m doing now is less than.
“Reckon with it, Jules. Process it and feel it and—”
“Fuck that.” I shake my head. “No.”
He pulls back, almost like he’s annoyed about it. “No?”
“What’s on the other side, Koa?” I ask with a shrug. “I love a girl. I can’t be with her. I can’t be with anyone—” I point back to my office door with the girl behind it. “That’s what I’ve got, this is it for me— so fuck off with your judgement and your reckoning. I don’t want to reconcile shit.” I back away from him.
“I’m good,” I tell him, even though we both know I’m not.
