Do You Think You're Up For This?

“Think of what you’re saying. You can get it wrong and still you think that it’s all right. Think of what I’m saying. We can work it out and get it straight or say goodnight. – The Beatles

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Rae

“I’ll be fine. It’s not like I need him or anything,” she says, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Right?”

I roll my eyes, continuing to spoon baby food into Elliott’s mouth.

I’d brought him with me so that Seb and Nicola could spend time together before we head into the studio, meanwhile Michael’s out on tour with Pistol Youth in New Zealand.

I know the real reason Suzie’s invited me over is so she can vent about her leaving Mike.

She’s been more vocal about it ever since she got crying out of her system.

More vocal to everyone except Mike, that is.

We all know she regrets it, even though she’d never say it.

“Did you know Seb hooked up with Nicola at my wedding?” I ask, just to throw her off topic.

“What?! No! Tell me!” she demands in disbelief. I shrug.

“I don’t know. Seb said they kept in touch for a few months after, and they started talking again when she decided to move here.” Elliott babbles along in between spoonfuls as if he wants to be part of the conversation, too.

“I figured something was up,” she says. Elliott refuses to open his mouth to eat anymore, so I clean up the remainder of his lunch and wipe his face clean.

“I-”

I’m interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Hold on, we have to finish this conversation,” she says.

I finish cleaning up Elliott meanwhile she answers the door.

“Wh-what the fuck are you doing here?” I suddenly hear her yell from the entrance.

I pick up Elliott and head down the hall, just in case.

Out of anyone it can be, Mike’s standing in the doorway, not looking very surprised at her reaction.

“I had to see you,” is all he says.

“Well…” she begins, flustered. “Do you remember me saying I wanted to see you? Because I don’t recall ever having said that.”

“What the fuck are you so pissed about?” he demands. “You broke up with me!”

“That’s because you wouldn’t do it yourself!”

“What does that even mean?” he yells back. “You’re not making any sense!”

“You don’t get it!” she shouts.

"You're the one that doesn't get it!"

By now, their yelling match has gotten to Elliott, who’s begun to cry loudly, drowning them out.

“Now look what you’ve done,” I shoot them annoyed glares as I rub Elliott’s back comfortingly and kiss his head. He quiets down after I give him his pacifier and wipe his tears.

“Sorry,” Mike mumbles.

“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m going to head home. It’s his naptime,” I excuse myself, going back to the kitchen to get my diaper bag. “I’ll call you,” I add, giving Suzie a pointed glance before leaving.

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Suzie

We sit on opposite ends of the couch.

I pick at my fingernails silently while he stares at his hands.

By now, we’ve gotten the arguments and yelling out of the way.

Now picking up the pieces is the hard part.

“I didn’t come here to watch you sit on the same couch as me,” he suddenly says. I glance at him.

“Then why did you come here?”

“To get you back,” he says simply.

“And just how did you plan on doing that?” I ask softly.

“I figured I’d wing it,” he replies.

I look at him to realize he’s staring at me.

I want to break the stare, but I don’t.

“Could you stop looking at me like that?” I mumble in embarrassment, finally averting my eyes.

“Like what?” he asks in slight confusion, frowning.

“Like…like you’re in love with me.” He smiles.

“I can’t.”

“You’re cheesy,” I smile in spite of myself, unconsciously rubbing my eyes as if I should be crying.

I ran out of tears days ago.

He scoots closer to me on the couch.

“If you wanted to move back here, you could have told me. I…I would have come back with you,” he states quietly, one of his hands playing with a strand of my hair. I laugh humorlessly.

“Why would you do that for me?”

“Why not?” he asks.

“Because I don’t deserve it,” I blurt out. “I don’t deserve you.” More words bubble in my mouth while I debate letting them out. I swallow before continuing. “I used to think I was settling for you,” I admit, attempting to gauge his reaction. I almost regret saying it. But I know if I don’t tell him now, I never will. “I was wrong. Because now I know that you were settling for me.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he asks, a hint of exasperation in his tone. I catch his eyes again. “It’s not about anyone deserving anything. And it’s not settling if it’s what you want,” he shakes his head at me. “I love you, Suze. That’s it.”

“Why?”

I want to know why he loves me when I can only loathe myself.

“I just do. I don’t know, Suzie. Because you’re you. Is that so hard to believe?” he asks.

“You have no idea,” I mutter. “I’m sorry. I should be the one begging you to take me back,” I realize.

“It doesn’t matter. I just want you back,” he insists. “But…fuck, Suze. You can’t just run off every time I say something you don’t want to hear.”

“I know. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Stop it,” he shakes his head again.

“What?”

“Stop apologizing. I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to talk to me so we can work it out.”

“Okay,” I agree.

“Okay?” he repeats for confirmation. I nod, only just realizing his fingers are intertwined with mine. I study our hands for a few seconds, and when I look back up, he’s just studying my face.

“I…I missed you so much,” I admit for the first time out loud. He smiles softly, taking back his hand to push my bangs out of my eyes. His fingers trace down my jawline, but I stop him before his lips meet mine.

His green eyes question my blue ones.

“I love you,” I offer, which is a lot, considering I don’t have much else to offer him. I haven’t told him in so long; the words are almost foreign on my tongue. He grins, leaning in the last two inches to crush his lips against mine.

He tastes like Marlboro cigarettes and something else I can’t quite place, but I don’t care either way.

“You didn’t have to freak out, you know,” he says, when we pull away. I lean against his shoulder comfortably. “When I proposed,” he clarifies. “I didn’t want us to get married right away. You flipped out like I was asking you to hop on the next plane to Vegas.”

I blush again like the idiot I am.

“I wasn’t thinking straight,” I groan, at my previous behavior. “I’m sorry,” I apologize yet again, even though he’s asked me not to. He just squeezes my shoulders in response, wordless forgiveness that I don’t deserve, no matter what he says. He kisses the side of my head and I reach for his hand again.

How I feel right now – and I know this is how I want it to be.

I don’t want to feel any different.

I feel normal again with him here.

Better than normal.

And I’m going to hold onto it as long as I can.