We were way more alike than I let myself believe.
“You need to talk to her about something?” Jules asked softly, finally breaking the awkwardness in the air.
Looking at the computer, I read the email again hoping to find some kind of hidden message in the font. “Yeah, uh, something to do with some block party.”
“Oh! The Halloween one!” Jules said, her voice going up in excitement. I looked over to find her smiling and bouncing, her sting from my tone earlier now forgotten. “Lana and I were thinking about doing joint costumes and maybe even having you give us matching finger tats if we had time. It’s going to be so fun.”
I eyed her. She seemed genuinely excited about the party and getting a tattoo because of the event. Something I hadn’t accounted for when I turned Alta down.
I cleared my throat, guilt irritating it. “You, uh—Did you invite any friends to the party? Girlfriends?”
“Yeah…” she said cautiously. “Me and Lana have a couple friends coming—Hey, don’t say ‘Girlfriends’ anymore Gus, it makes you sound like you’re in your fifties, not your thirties.”
“Yeah, alright,” I smiled, waving the comment away. My eyes fell on that email again. “How about the girls down at the bakery shop, I know y’all talk to them. They excited about it too?”
“Everyone is!” she said with a soft smile. “I guess you’re right. Ally does a lot more than take pictures around here. We would have never done something fun like this without her.”
“Yeah.” I swallowed, feeling the full weight of my stupidity fall over my shoulders. “Let me know if she emails again, alright?”
Patting the counter, I pushed off, headed back to sulk in the privacy of my office.
The rest of the month. She’d be gone for the rest of the month. And she’d be thinking I was an asshole the entire time.
Great.
I was halfway to the back when I heard Jules call out, “You could just call her, Gus. Or text, you know, if you really need her. You have her number don’t you?”
I nodded, but looked at my feet, feeling awkward. “Nah. I don’t know her like that, J.”
I couldn’t know her. She wouldn’t let me know her. No matter how badly I wanted to.
Chapter Seven
ALTA
“Hell yeah!”
My little sister’s voice sounded muffled in the back of my head as my hand connected solidly with the bag in front of me. This was week two of taking lessons with her at her quasi-part-time job as a boxing instructor and I had to say I was catching on pretty swiftly.
“Al, you’re a natural,” Ceci said, a huge impish grin possessing her face. She really was gorgeous, all red hair and strange eyes. That was until she started cutting them at people. She did as such to our sister-in-law who was breathing heavily beside her own bag. “Fergy, not so much.”
I’d probably been to the gym a total of four times, each with my sister-in-law in tow and each time I left with aclearer mind. So I was extremely grateful when Ceci reminded us of our scheduled lesson on Wednesday night, because I was feeling especially pent up as of late.
“One more round, ladies, finish strong,” Ceci encouraged. Clementine, my older brother Ox’s wife, whimpered slightly. Ceci, noticed and like the little tyrant she was, said, “Make that two more rounds, since our sweet Ferguson wants to complain.”
“Ceci!” Clem whined, her breath coming out hard as she panted for air. “Please?”
“You want to make it three?” my sister warned.
Clem’s face changed to an expression of horror, but instead of complaining anymore, she rolled her lips into her mouth and took up a weak starting position, just as Ceci had taught us. Her evil grin said it all. She enjoyed having power over us during this hour. Even if she truly loved the sport, she was still sadistic about it. But she was a good teacher too.
“I’m going to count you through the rest of these rounds. Listen, but mainly feel the flow of the sequences. They’re all combos you’ve done before, it should start feeling natural to you now.”
On Ceci’s mark, we started our last two rounds of the session. Just as she said, I found myself getting lost in the repetition of the practiced sequences. My muscles began to scream in protest of the foreign movements about halfway through the set, yet I kept going. I ran almost every day, so I didn’t find myself getting as winded as Clementine, but I did feel the wobble of my limbs and the weakening of my blows.
Still, I kept going.
Ihatedquitting. I always had, and I think I always would. I think that’s why I was still so frustrated with the events of my life recently. Because even though I’d been thoroughly put down by more than one avenue, I still hadn’t let myself think of an ultimate outcome where I didn’t get what I wanted.
