The thing I hate about Micah is that he will go below the belt and bring up something just so that he is in control of the argument. In our case, it’s about the night we hooked up.
Yes. We hooked up one night and I’ve regretted it ever since.
We had gotten high in Micah’s bathroom one night when he invited me over. He insisted I stay at his place while his family were away with his younger sisters. Micah chose to not go, which didn’t surprise me at all. Micah never seemed to want to do anything with his family, which I didn’t understand. They seemed to be like a decent family, but I guess Micah thought otherwise.
“You know you can stay here for the night,” Micah insisted, once we left our campus. “My folks are on some college tour trip with my sisters, so it’s not like you have to worry about them coming home.”
“I’m fine,” I said, zipping up my winter coat all the way to my chin. I don’t know what possessed me to wear a skirt with some torn-up stockings, but I was fucking freezing. I guess Micah could read through the bullshit, as he wasn’t having it.
“Dude, it’s cold as fuck out here,” Micah mentioned. “I know your apartment sucks with the heat. I’m not trying to wake up tomorrow morning learning you died from hyperthermia or some shit.” Micah had a way of telling you that he cared about you in the weirdest ways possible. I rolled my eyes, not really wanting to fight with Micah in the middle of a dark campus in freezing weather.
“Fine; if it makes you feel better, I’ll crash at your place,” I said, sighing at y defeat. Micah immediately smiled, leading the way toward the bus stop. “Next thing you need to get is a car, Micah.”
“I’m working on it,” Micah turned around to say.
…
I don’t remember how long it took us to finally get to Micah’s place, but what I do remember is the neighborhood he lived in. It was in the nicer part of Brooklyn; one that you would raise a family in and send your kid to the school down the block. It was funny to think about; Micah had this demeanor about him that seemed like he grew up in the hood or some shit. One of these days, someone is going to give him a reality check if they find out that he grew up in a two-parent household, in an actual house in an actual nice neighborhood.
“Nice place you got here,” I said, looking around the living room area. Micah looked at me funny, but didn’t say anything to me. He looked around with me, dropping his bag in the living room.
“Thanks, my parents really know how to decorate a place,” Micah said, not really interested in the choice of topic. He laughed, knowing that me complimenting the décor of his house was a weird move on my part. “Let me go grab something for you to sleep in.”
“I could just sleep in my clothes,” I quickly said, standing in the middle of the living room. Micah looked at me, cocking an eyebrow.
“A t-shirt and tiny ass skirt that you thought was cute to wear in the freezing cold?” Micah teased, crossing his arms along his chest. I sucked my teeth and rolled my eyes.
“Okay, fine!” I gave in, not wanting to get into it with Micah. Micah was stubborn as fuck; I learned that early on in our friendship. When Micah left the living room, I began to look around at the pictures that surrounded the cozy home. I can tell Micah’s parents were madly in love with each other; photos of themselves were all over the place. Micah looks so much like his mother, it’s kind of freaky. More pictures of Micah and his family were on the walls, many from when he was just a kid. He seemed happier when he was a kid. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Micah smile that big before since knowing him. What happened? What could have possibly gone wrong for him to be the way he is now?
“I hope this is fine,” I heard Micah’s voice close to me, which caused me to jump up, scared. It’s been hard for me to adjust my fight or flight response since that night at Prescott’s; even when I was back in Philly with Hudson, every time he would come into the room and I didn’t hear him, I would scream in fear. It was hard to get out of my own head, that Prescott wasn’t there to sneak up behind me and hurt me like he would when things weren’t going his way.
I looked at Micah, who looked visibly upset. I didn’t mean for him to feel like he did something wrong; he truly didn’t. It’s truly my fault.
“Thanks, Micah,” I said, taking the clothes from Micah. He stood there, clearly not knowing what he should do after scaring the living shit out of me. “Sorry, I’m just a little bit… jumpy. Thought it was one of your parents or something.” No, I didn’t, but I lied just to make sure Micah didn’t blame himself for scaring me.
“It’s okay,” Micah simply said, forcing a smile on his face. “Come to the bathroom once you’re done changing.”
“Huh?” I asked, confused. “Why would we both be in the bathroom at the same time?”
“Roe,” Micah deadpanned. “Just come to the goddamn bathroom,” Micah said and laughed, walking toward the bathroom with a chair from the dining area.
The bathroom is dark, but Micah plugs in a speaker with an LED light. I kept looking at him every time he would enter the bathroom with something new. His lack of explanation was bothering me.
“Micah, what the fuck are we doing in here?” I finally asked. Micah smiled, which made me ease up a little bit. Our banter always seems to be comforting for both of us; I think that’s why whenever things feel a little too tense or serious, we just go back to what we know. Micah reaches for something underneath the sink; a long, metal ashtray-looking thing. I immediately looked back up at Micah; he definitely didn’t see him as the type who actually smoked so casually inside his parent’s house.
“Do you smoke?” Micah asked me, placing the tray on his lap, and sitting on the edge of the tub. I didn’t know what to tell him, considering I used to live on the streets of Philly surrounded by people who smoked anything and everything. I wasn’t one of them, but I definitely smoked every now and then when I needed to take the edge off of it. Many of the times I did smoke did not end on good terms, though. “I ask because I do.”
“I remember you saying that back at The Lounge,” I said, watching Micah take a nugget of weed outside of the ziplock bag. “Is that the bootleg shit you bought back at The Lounge from that sketchy ass guy?”
“Ha, ha,” Micah deadpanned, continuing to roll up the weed. “This is from Tanner’s brother, I usually cop my bud from him.” I knew who Tanner was; he was the tall, awkward blonde guy that is dating Micah’s friend, Dani. I only know that because there were times I would see the three of them enter the Student Center whenever I had a shift at the bookstore. It must be nice to have an actual group of friends that care about you. I don’t let Micah know that I actually know who his friends are; I think it would be weird.
“Who’s Tanner?” I asked. Micah cocked an eyebrow at me, realizing that he never actually introduced me to his group of friends.
“Tanner’s one of my closest friends,” Micah simply answered.
“Is he the really tall guy with the blonde hair? Always with that short white girl that you’re always yelling at?” I asked. Micah gave me a puzzled look as if he was trying to read my mind. Micah tended to do that at times whenever we were having a conversation. In a way, it made me feel like he knew that I knew more than I led on. Of course, he didn’t question me about it.
“Yeah, that’s his girlfriend, Dani,” Micah said, finally lighting the blunt he rolled. “My parents are best friends with her parents, so we’re more like family than friends.” I know, Micah. I can totally see just how sibling-like you guys are when you argue in the middle of the Student Center.
“That’s cool,” I said, feeling a bit awkward. The bathroom was silent for a couple of minutes before Micah reached out to pass the blunt to me. I look at him, not really knowing what I should do.
“It’s okay if you wanna smoke, Roe,” Micah finally said, still holding out the blunt. “No judgment whatsoever. This is a safe space.” I slowly take the blunt from Micah’s hands and begin to smoke it. I can’t lie, Micah knew what he was doing rolling this shit up. Only the seasoned pros knew how to roll, so it just made me wonder just how long Micah had been smoking. I immediately began to take a couple of pulls; every one feeling a bit looser and calm.
“What if I told you that smoking this broke my sobriety?” I teased, trying to convince Micah that I was serious. I guess it worked, because Micah immediately looks worried as fuck. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Dude, I’m joking!” Micah finally released the biggest sigh of relief.
“That was mad convincing,” Micah said, taking a pull from the blunt. “I mean we never drank or smoke before together, so I wouldn’t have known.”
“Nah,” I said, taking the blunt that Micah passed. “I never had the money to afford it. Plus, my boyfriend at the time was a total junkie. I didn’t want to be anything like him.” I felt myself rambling on at this point, but I felt comfortable talking to Micah. I’ve gotten to known Micah these last couple of months and realize that he’s a listener. He never really talks about himself unless the conversation takes it there. He always seemed to listen to me, which I felt was odd. What me? What was it about me that made someone want to listen? “Like he literally would beat the shit out of me thinking I stole his drug money whenever he couldn’t afford it.”
“Roe,” Micah finally said. Roe. The nickname that Micah gave me that I hated at first but grown to find comfort in it. It was simple, and only Micah ever called me by it. Our friendship was simple, even when we both are complicated as fuck. I looked at Micah, continuing to speak what was on my mind.
“I didn’t tell anyone this, but I stayed with him for years. There wasn’t anyone in my life to tell me how a guys should treat you, and what a guy does when he truly loves you. I thought my relationship was normal. Until it wasn’t.” I passed the blunt to Micah.
“And your parents didn’t do anything?” He asked.
“No,” I simply answered. “I was emancipated from my parents by the time I turned 18, but it had felt like I was for even longer than that. They didn’t give a shit about me.” Micah passed the blunt back to me without taking any pulls.
“Finish it,” he simply said. I just nodded, taking another pull from the blunt.
“It’s why I don’t go back to Philly; why go back to the place where you felt like shit, we’re tested like shit, and everything that was once good turned into shit?” There was a long pause after saying that. I felt weird; maybe being so vocal about my life made Micah uncomfortable. Maybe this is a good time to get up and say I have to go or some shit. Before I was able to get up to readjust myself, Micah’s voice echoed in the small bathroom.
“Sometimes I wish my family didn’t care about me,” he began to say. I looked at him, lost in thought. “Maybe then it would’ve been easier to kill myself when I was younger.”
I looked at Micah as he started to roll up another blunt from the tray. Micah didn’t seem like the type that would ever be suicidal. He had a white ego; one that was fed by the presence of other people. He definitely had his own issues, but he never seemed to be the type to feel defeated to the point he would even have suicidal thoughts.
“Well,” I began to say, wanting to say something meaningful. “I’m glad you didn’t follow through with that. And I’m glad your family cares about you enough for you to know that you are loved. You are an important member of this society.”
“You too, Roe,” Micah looked at me to say before continuing rolling the second blunt.
“Am I though?” I genuinely asked. I thought about those back in Philly that I left behind. I think about all the people that came and went in my life; where are those people now? I know I’m disposable, and I’ve learned to accept that. “Nobody would truly miss me if I was dead.” It’s true, and it’s why I don’t get close to anyone in my life anymore. It’s why I only keep people that I can get something out of it to benefit me.
“I would,” Micah whispered. Besides Micah.
“You just met me though,” I softly said, high and defeated. “How could you miss someone you just met?”
“Because I lost my shit when you were in the hospital,” Micah confessed as he looked at me. “Like, fuck Rosie. I would fucking lose my shit if I found out anything were to ever happen to you, and that’s how I know. No one gets me like you do. No one; not even my best friends and family. Just you. You just fucking get me.”
“And you just fucking get me too,” I said back, slightly teasing Micah but being honest with him. He gently grabbed the palm of my hand after trying to grab the metal ashtray from his lap. I looked at him, not moving an inch closer or away. I didn’t know what to think or do at that moment. I remember liking it though. Fuck; of course I did.
“Micah,” I began to say. “Do you mind if I roll up the next one?” Micah doesn’t answer back right away. He sits there, heavy in his thoughts. Micah was always so confident in his demeanor and the way that he spoke to other people. This was a first for him, except this time he knew exactly what he wanted to do.
…
The next thing I knew I was lying on Micah’s bed, looking up at him as he crawled on top of me and continued to kiss me. Why did this feel right? What did this mean? How did this even happen in the first place? Music continued to play in Micah’s room, and I voluntarily began to take off my clothes. Micah was a gentle lover. He held you as he kissed you, caressed your body in positions that fit with his body. He wasn’t just some guy that fucked chicks for the hell of it, at least that’s not how it happened that night.
But like all good things in life, they come to an end once the high of it all wears off.
Letters From Liz. 