Thrive: Chapter 8

Mikka

Our plane ride began with turbulence. The flight attendant assured us all in first class it wouldn’t last.

The bumpy ride between Jay and I continued though.

Normally we shared an ear bud, played a card game, watched a movie together.

Instead, I found myself nudging him after an hour of silence between us. “You excited about the next few weeks?”

“You mean the random piss tests, the calls with my therapist, and the constant behavioral therapy techniques I’ll be practicing with my childhood town watching? Yeah, not really,” he grumbled.

I winced because this wasn’t a vacation for him, nor was it for me. We could lose everything. We were grasping at the last thread and hoping it didn’t slip through our fingers. I needed him to survive outpatient therapy, I needed to see him get this movie. I’d prided myself on his success for this long and seeing him fail would be my failure too.

He sighed. “Sorry, Meek. I’m digesting the past couple hours.”

I reached under the seat in front of me to pull out my leather bag. When things got tough, I knew how to smooth everything out. I pulled out my planner.

Jay groaned. “No. No. Nope.”

“Jay, it’s the perfect time to look over a plan for the next month.” I opened to the month.

“It’s never a good time to do that.”

“Why? We can map out what your month will look like and…”

“What if I just want to spend the month with no plans and just you instead?” he asked with his voice dipping lower.

I blinked at the question. “Are you trying to lighten the mood by insinuating that we’ll hook up all month? Please tell me I’m imagining the suggestive hint in your voice.”

He chuckled and cracked his knuckles. “Someone has to lighten the mood here.”

Was I imagining him glancing at my lips with his cerulean blue eyes?

I looked pointedly away and said, “The fact that you have not a bone in your body that cares about the rules of a relationship and hitting on someone when they are in one just shows why we would never, ever actually be able to do anything more than what already happened between us.”

He tilted his head in question. “So, you’ve considered doing more with me?”

“Oh, my God.” I tapped my scheduler to get us back on track. “Let’s be professional and responsible for once, huh?”

He sighed and looked out the plane window. “Little Pebble, I’m not mapping out the month. How would that be helpful, anyway?”

“Well…” I cleared my throat. “You’re going through a lot. It can be overwhelming to think of planning out your days. But I assure you, it actually helps.”

“Meek, not happening.”

I crossed off “Fly to Greenville” from my list for the day. Below that, I wrote to pick up baggage, drive to Lorraine’s Little Lodge, and more. The list provided me with a distraction from Jay and having him so close after all this time, breathing on my shoulder, watching me like I was a new toy.

I turned to face him after scribbling a little heart around the lesson that I’d written in for the day. “Okay. Fine,” I mumbled even though nothing felt fine with his lips this close to me. My cheeks heated at the memory of his taste: alcohol and candy, like loose inhibitions and cravings of the most delectable sort. He’d fit perfectly against me, kissing me like I meant something to him. “That’s fine. Everything will be fine.”

That mouth kicked up a notch. “You sure it’s fine? You’re looking at me like something might not be, like I might need to remedy it.”

I snapped my gaze to his because he’d caught my lingering stare. I was embarrassed that the heat on my cheeks was giving away my guilt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jay.”

He shifted in his seat. “I’m starting to think this trip is going to be more difficult than I thought for reasons I wasn’t expecting.”

I knew what he was referring to. I didn’t ask what he meant or acknowledge his statement. I figured if we didn’t say it out loud, the desire and chemistry between us might disappear.

After my long beat of silence, he relaxed back into his seat. “What’s your lesson for the day?”

I rolled my eyes. Whenever he saw me doodling in my planner, he asked. This planner contained inspirational quotes that I tried to live by because they were like little dares to succeed that I couldn’t pass up. “Endings are just new beginnings.”

For the first time on that flight, the corners of his mouth lifted high enough that his eyes sparkled. “Now, that’s the truth.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I grabbed my phone and pulled up an e-mail. “I got the script for the last takes here in Greenville. The crew will arrive to film in three weeks. We need to practice your scenes with Lela. Are you okay with that?”

“Sure. Want to act out all the scenes?” One of his eyebrows raised like he was taunting me.

Of course those scenes had kissing.

I busied myself with lifting the folding table in front of me and sliding the latch into place. “We’ll practice what needs practice. We need to make sure you’re ready to film.”

He leaned his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. “I’ll be fine with filming. I know this part. I just need you there to make sure everything goes off without a hitch.”

“I’ll be there for what you need, Jay.” I didn’t promise anything more than I could. I was going to try to stick out the month but I considered leaving him once he was settled.

“Mmhmm. I can practically hear the cogs in your brain turning.” He didn’t even crack open an eye to check. “You’re staying and we’re working through our problems together.”

“I don’t have the types of problems you do,” I blurted out.

“Don’t you, though? You’re in a relationship you think you can change. I thought I could change my drug use at any point. You’re hoping things will get better. I promised myself they would too. You keep going back to the one damn thing that’s hurting you, and I can only imagine the ways in which he’s hurt you, Meek.” He didn’t lift his head or open his eyes, but he’d folded his hands together. The tips of his fingers were white from trying to keep his emotions bottled up. “I kept going back to the partying and alcohol and cocaine. I’m not even sure I’m done going back.”

“Jay, I know it’s hard…”

“You do because you’re doing the same thing. Unhealthy relationships are forms of addiction. I know it’s hard to leave; I know you’ll consider going back. I know because I’m doing the same thing. We got through LA together. And we got buried in this toxic hole. I’m digging us out, Meek. You can grab a shovel and help or lay there and watch. Either way, I got you.”

I leaned my head on his shoulder, wanting to say something, but the words were caught in my throat.

My body melted as I sat there with him and I became pliant in my soul’s desire for him. He’d come back from rehab as strong a friend as he always had been but also more appealing than ever. I couldn’t control my pull toward the man that was only supposed to be my friend when my heart warmed in his presence.

We touched down and collected our suitcases. Jay navigated me through the small airport, one he’d visited countless times.

“Do you know the bed and breakfast we’re staying at?”

“It’s Greenville, Meek. It might be the tiniest town you’ve ever set foot in.” He chuckled. “I know everything about everything there.”

I wrinkled my nose. As we stepped outside and handed off our bags to the driver, the brisk air hit me. I smelled small town already and I wasn’t sure I liked it. I’d grown up in San Francisco and moved to LA. I didn’t understand how the other side lived. I liked the desert sun, people who accepted small diverse women like myself, and the hustle and bustle of a big city. No one paid attention to you in the mass; you had to propel yourself forward on your own steam. If you failed, no one noticed, and if you succeeded, you’d done so in front of millions.

I straightened my blouse and entered the SUV. “Are you alright with the bed and breakfast being familiar? Should we have rented an Airbnb?”

He outright laughed at the notion. “Greenville doesn’t do that type of stuff.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind Lorraine, the owner. It’s better than being twenty miles out or staying at my parents’ house. They could fly back from their vacation home at any point, and I can’t deal with that.”

I smiled, “Your parents aren’t that bad.”

“Just wait. My mom is about to give me hell, and my dad never needs to say he’s disappointed—you can just see it. It’s the businessman in him.”

“He’s retired,” I reminded him. “Your mom loves you and wants to be supportive.”

“My mom’s only mission is to make sure I get it together for my future family.”

I tilted my head in question.

“She wants me settled like my brothers. And she wants grandkids. Sooner rather than later.”

I shuddered at the idea of kids. “Children don’t do well in LA.”

He glanced at me, and one corner of his mouth kicked up. “You look like you’re ready to jump out of your skin, woman. You hate kids or something?”

I never had to talk about kids in LA because we were all trying to make it in the film industry, all trying to look our best, and all competing for the perfect life. Children or lack thereof didn’t normally fit into that conversation. “I don’t hate them, Jay. They’re kids.”

He studied me longer than I liked. “They make you uncomfortable?”

“I just don’t have any, so I have nothing to say about them.”

“Do you want some of your own? What’s the name of that guy your mom talked about—Yue Lao? He would probably want you to have children.”

Leave it to Jay to ask such a serious question with no remorse, as if our lives were an open book to one another. He felt that way, too. He wanted me to share everything with him, but a woman’s choice to have children was sacred and sometimes not even her choice. The idea that I could try to have kids and fail just because my body wouldn’t produce terrified me. I was used to making things happen and working toward an end goal. I knew that having children didn’t work that way.

“This really isn’t an idle drive chat,” I mumbled.

He draped an arm over the back seat and settled in. “When did you become shy about sharing?”

“I’m not,” I insisted. “It’s just I haven’t really thought about whether Dougie and I can handle kids.”

Jay’s smile dropped off his face so fast, it was like a ton of bricks had weighed it down. “I wasn’t talking about you having kids with him.”

I sighed. “Jay, it isn’t all bad.”

“When you first started seeing him, did it happen?”

I knew my eyes widened, that a blush crept over my cheeks, but I couldn’t school my reaction. I wasn’t used to the tough questions and pressure from Jay. He normally led people to an answer they never thought they would give by charming them. “No! Just… why are you asking me something so crazy?”

“I don’t have time to sugarcoat things for you anymore, Meek. I’m tired and we’re going to spend a month together. Get used to this side of me, the one where I push you and you push me. We’re here to make each other better, right?”

I looked him up and down, trying to find a crack in his new persona, one I could chip away at to bring back the old Jay. This new one was blunt, truthful, and maybe a little too intense. “I agree that we’re here to make you better. I’m just fine.”

“You’re not.” He said those words with a finality that made me want to break down. Then he shook his head. “Answer the question. Did it happen early on?”

I turned from him. The city faded into rolling hills where evergreen and maple trees sprinkled the grass and wider curved roads formed. It was like we’d left all the noise and distraction and been given space to focus on each other.

“Does it matter? I’ve stayed this long. At first, I thought it had come out of nowhere. Now I can see there were signs from the very beginning. They’re bold as hell and clear as the light of day. We’ve grown together for years. I know in his heart he’s a good guy. Something, or me, probably, tweaked him over the years. Our encounter just pushed things over the edge.”

He didn’t respond. He sat there quiet for so long, I tried to let the conversation fade away like the city lights were. We pulled up to the bed and breakfast. It was small, Victorian, cute, and utterly old. The SUV came to a stop on the gravel driveway, and the driver got out to get our bags.

Jay didn’t move. Instead, he asked me, “We’re giving your ass of a boyfriend a pass and blaming his actions on what you’re calling an ‘encounter’?”

I waved him off, trying to get past the small butterflies I felt in my stomach every time I thought about that night. “Our kiss, our slip up, whatever.”

“Ha,” he huffed out. “Slip up? Little one, that wasn’t a slip up.”

The leather under me shifted as I rubbed my thighs together, trying to stave off what I was feeling. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“I’m not sure what I mean either. All I know is we’re more…”

“More what?”

“More than what you’re giving us credit for. Don’t call what we did ‘a slip up.’ Ever.”

He had his arms spread behind the headrest now and he looked relaxed, in control, and not at all remorseful.

“As opposed to me saying something different? I try not to say anything at all about it. I try not to think about it. I want to forget that we fucked up. You’re one of my best and only friends in LA and that could have ruined us.”

“Bullshit.” He didn’t hesitate to spit out the word. “Nothing can ruin us. We’ve been through my partying and we’re about to get through a month together under the same roof, battling through a lot of crap. You’re stuck with me, little one, and nothing changes that.”

My heart skipped like it wanted to jump right on over into his arms, but I swung open the door, grabbed my work bag, and got out of the vehicle instead. Jay spoke like he could be the perfect one for me, like he knew what being faithful to someone meant.

Our kiss, that kiss, had wrecked my body. Now, whenever I saw Jay, it reacted like a friend never should. It sped up, danced around, and dipped to the ground for him.

I shook off the feeling and stared at the white-stained wooden sign with the words “Lorraine’s Little Lodge” painted on it. The bed and breakfast was no wider than the length of the SUV that was leaving us behind. I almost ran after it, but a woman who I guessed was Ms. Lorraine herself sat in a wicker rocker on the white porch, smiling at the both of us.

Jay walked right up to her and scooped her up from the chair. He lifted her off her feet and spun her around until she cackled and whacked him on the shoulder.

I stood back, one hand gripping my bag like a lifeline, and dug my shoes farther into the gravel drive. When Jay set her down, her chocolate brown eyes glanced my way. She was a small woman, hunched a bit by the years that aged us all. Her gray hair was curled, and the floral dress she wore was bright with reds and yellows.

“So?” She looked at me as if I should say something in reply.

Was I to introduce myself?

Hug her? Oh, God.

I hoped she didn’t want me to hug her. I didn’t do hugs with strangers and I wasn’t sure how to talk to an elderly woman who had lived in that quaint little house all her life. Did I discuss the trees with her? They were big—that was about all I knew. The flowers that hung from intricately curled hooks above her porch? They were bright like her floral dress: reds and pinks and whites to match the home.

I stuck my hand out as she continued to study me. “I’m Mikka Chang. I work with Jay.” I glared at him. He stood there silently with his arms crossed, like he enjoyed making me uncomfortable. “We’ve known each other since he’s been in LA.”

“Right. You’re his gatekeeper for the month, I assume?”

Wow. That was a bold statement for a woman I thought looked cute and sweet. “I’m his PA. I work to make sure he stays on task for the agency so that we can deliver the best entertainment within the film industry as possible.” It was a canned line, one I used when I was being assessed, and she was definitely doing just that as she eyed me up and down with a curled lip.

“Didn’t do such a great job of that back in LA, did you? The boy flew off the wagon into drugs, sex, and alcohol.”

My jaw dropped and I dug my nails into my shoulder strap to stop myself from mouthing off. The audacity and complete lack of respect for Jay’s private life left me speechless. And then she’d gone and dragged my job into it, making me out to be incompetent.

Jay chuckled and swung his arm around my shoulders. “Lorraine, go easy on her. She’s new to town.” He turned to whisper in my ear. “She’s the best, isn’t she?”

I eyed him like he was deranged, and Lorraine blew a little air out at his comment. She waved us in and I let Jay’s arm around my shoulders lead me.

Walking up onto the white wood porch and into her home felt like being in a movie. The woven mat at our feet read “Welcome Home,” and as I walked past the screen door—something LA homes didn’t have—I was overwhelmed by the smell of fresh flowers. The walls were painted soft pastels and each room had decor to match. In every room of the first floor, she had placed freshly cut flowers, big beautiful ones that I definitely couldn’t name, in glass vases atop wood tables.

She pointed up the wooden stairs. “Both of you will stay up there. The first two rooms on the right.” She waved us on. “The dining room is this way. I’ll make breakfast at 8:00 AM sharp every morning. Do you like coffee, Mikka? Jay drinks tea and I’ll brew it just the way Nancy does for him if you want that.”

“Huh,” I said out loud, a little baffled. “I’ve never seen you drink tea.”

“No one in LA makes chai tea like they do here in Greenville.”

Lorraine patted his back like he’d made her day. “That’s right. Remember where to get the best of everything, boy. It won’t be at some party sniffing God knows what.”

Jay’s shoulders tensed, and I knew she’d struck a little too close to home.

I stepped in front of him and changed the subject. “I’d love to try the tea tomorrow.”

Lorraine glanced between us. She was assessing again. This time, I must have passed her test. She nodded. “Great. I’ll order dinner from Bob down the street tonight and leave that out for you both. I’ll probably be at Ray’s for a drink later. Jay, call them if you need anything.”

With that, the tiny woman disappeared down the hall, not at all concerned that she was leaving us to fend for ourselves.

Jay rolled his head around and shrugged off the tension and most likely the comment before he went and grabbed both of our bags to lug them upstairs. “Good to be back,” he said as I followed him.

“Is it really?” It seemed like everyone was already in our business and this place was much too small and quaint to hold three of us.

He set my suitcase down in a room full of yellow. The color alone should have made me smile. Yellow was supposed to do that. But the handmade quilt and the fresh sunflowers, no doubt cut from the garden the window overlooked, made me a bit itchy. Everything was too connected, too meaningful, and too real.

I spun to tell Jay this wouldn’t do, that I should stay at a hotel, that I was fine driving twenty minutes into town every morning.

He shook his head at me as I opened my mouth. “No, Meek. Remember what your planner said. Some things ended. Now, we start our new beginning.”

With that, he disappeared into his room.

I wanted to support him. I wanted to like his childhood town. A friend could do that. I just didn’t know if I was that friend.

He had so many others. He was home.

I definitely was not.