Flea Bite

I like having Mikey around. Even with our two year break, it’s as if nothing has changed. He listens to me. Listens about Frank, listens about Elizabeth, listens about how life is treating me. And it’s nice.

Frank continues to watch me in school, the same somber look on his pretty face. He gets closer to me in the hallway, so our arms brush. I haven’t seen him around Venus, or around any girl for that matter. I’ll see him in the car lot after school smoking cigarettes, eyes sunken in and face distorted with a look of. . . something. Regret, maybe.

But I can’t bring myself to just forgive him. Not like that, not that easily. He hurt me. He chose another girl over me, believed her over me. He hurt me physically. So I can’t forgive him - not yet. Not over somber expressions, not over brushing arms in the hallway. There needs to be more. A redemption arc.

I’m sitting on the couch, Mikey to the left of me and Elizabeth to the right. They get along well, as I expected. Elizabeth is an extreme people pleaser.

“Whatcha thinking about, Rowan?” Mikey is smiling at me, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. I’m almost in awe of how pretty he is.

“A lot,” I mumble. I can’t bring myself to tell them I’m thinking about Frank, about how I miss him. About how badly I want to forgive him, even if forgiving him means going back to being his secret. But I’m so tired of being a secret. I want to be shown off.

Elizabeth and Mikey mutually agree without me that we should go to the mall, that it will be fun, that it will get me out of my head. And I agree, so we go. Elizabeth and I get into Mikey’s car, and as he starts it I almost become giddy. I haven’t been to Belleville Mall in months, as I’ve been far too depressed to hardly make it to school and back.

When we get there, the first thing Mikey wants to do is go to the record store. When I see how excited he looks, I nod, grabbing ahold onto the ugly red wool sweater he always seems to be wearing. Elizabeth follows in tow as Mikey leads the way.

The record store is brightly lit and smells musty, as if no one ever comes in. Mikey smiles at the girl behind the counter and goes off to the classic section. Elizabeth and I walk around, chatting softly.

“He’s really sweet, Rowan.” Elizabeth smiles at me, a soft and genuine smile. I give her a soft smile back.

“He’s like a best friend,” I drag out slowly. “He’s always been here for me. Even after our two year break, it’s like old times. He’s a genuine person.” As I talk about Mikey, I find myself wishing someone else would be as genuine and sweet as Mikey. I wish, for just a second, I could take all the feelings I have for Frank and put them onto Mikey.

Mikey finds us, a big record in his hand, grinning ear to ear. “Look at this!” He exclaims. He looks like a kid in a candy store. I don’t know who the band is, but I try to smile back equally as big, showing teeth and letting out a little laugh.

He buys the record and we make our way out of the store. We walk for a little bit, stopping at the food court. Elizabeth complains about being hungry, so we sit down while she orders.

“Do you want anything, Rowan? I haven’t seen you eat all day.” Mikey looks almost worried as he speaks. I shake my head at him.

“I’m not hungry, and even if I was, I don’t have my wallet on me.” I rest my face in my hands, propping my elbows up on the table.

“If you’re hungry Rowan I have money and can get you some food. I promise, I don’t mind.” Mikey’s touching my arm gingerly, giving me a soft look.

But at this point, I’m not paying attention to Mikey. I’m looking past Mikey and at the short, disheveled boy. Frank is in line at the pizza kiosk, phone in hand.

I want to talk to him. I want to ask him why he did what he did, why he’s so ashamed of me. I want to ask him why now, and only now, is he showing any true feelings towards me.

Mikey turns his head and follows my gaze. His demeanor changes and he looks uncomfortable. “Is that Frank?”

I swallow the brick-sized spit ball in my throat and nod. I can’t form any words.

“Do you want to talk to him?” I’m surprised Mikey asked that - considering all of the things I’ve told him Frank has done to me. Mikey seems to notice my surprised look and follows up with, “You’re never going to have peace unless you try to talk things out. Unless you follow your heart. I know he’s toxic, Elizabeth knows he’s toxic, but as long as you’re still looking at him like you are, you’ll never get closure.”

I give him a small, sad smile. I stand up and make my way towards Frank, anxiety eating away at me. As I’m almost to him, he picks his head up from reading on his phone and looks at me, clearly surprised.

“Rowan?” He sounds confused, obviously not expecting me. He looks drained. His skin is pale and his eyes are sunken. His hair looks like it hasn’t been combed in days, and he reeks of cigarettes.

“I need to talk to you,” I mumble. I don’t know what I’m going to say, or if I’m even going to be able to say it when I find the words. But I know I need to talk to him. I doubt Frank will ever redeem himself fully, but I can try to get closure. I can try to move on.

“Yeah,” he says hurriedly, as if he’s scared I’m going to disappear into thin air. “sure.”

So we sit down at a small table, sitting across from one another. Frank slides his slice of pizza to the center of the table, asking if I want any. I decline.

“I just want to know why, Frank.” My words are soft, trembling. I pick at the skin around my fingers. I can barely get myself to look at him, and when I finally do, he’s looking down at his lap.

“I don’t know,” he tells me. “We’re too different, Row. You’re a good girl. You hardly ever put out, and when you do it’s boring. It’s like you don’t even want to fuck. How am I supposed to feel? When you’re just laying there, like you’re just waiting for it to be over.” I feel my cheeks heat up red when he says this.

“You’re too rough. And you’re almost always drunk or high, and you never listen to me when I tell you to slow down. You’re inconsiderate and maybe, just maybe, if you listened to me before we had sex, I wouldn’t just lay there.” I’m word vomiting, but I can’t help it. I can feel myself growing agitated.

“Besides,” I huff, “why is it always sex with you? Always being handsy. You never just want to be with me. And I hate it. I hate that there always has to be something intimate when you want to see me. Because, no matter what I do, or how much I put out, you always throw me to the side and pick Venus.”

Frank is looking at me with an expression I’ve never seen before. He looks dumbstruck, as if his jaw is about to drop.

“It’s not about what needs to change about me, Frank. It’s about what you need to change about yourself. You’re manipulative, and I have always tolerated it because I love you. Or, I thought I loved you. But I can’t keep doing this. I just. . . I want to know, right here, right now: do you want me? All of me. Good girl and all.” I’m breathless, looking at him, waiting.

He can’t seem to make eye contact with me. He’s fidgeting, pulling at the string on his shirt. I know his answer before he even says it. I know he’s not ready, not now, maybe not ever, to be seen with me. To be seen with someone who’s not a part of the in-crowd.

“Goodbye, Frank.” I stand up from the table, tears in my eyes. “You have my number when you’re ready to grow up.”