The Beautiful Truth

// 113

"No..." Micki exclaimed, and I could tell she was warring with herself as she reached for her giant glass of orange juice.

Was she supposed to be excited for me, relieved that I'd made some kind of effort to move on, concerned that it was all a farce, or impressed because she'd just seen pictures of Jason from Saturday and there was no denying it: guy was still just as hot as she remembered...?

I sighed and shrugged. "Yep."

She swallowed and pressed her lips together, seeming to have reached her verdict. "And how does this make you feel?" she asked finally.

Or not. I scoffed, coming back down from my mental replay of Friday night and the even better time I'd had on Saturday. "I don't know, Sigmund. Are you asking me how I feel about your attempt to psychoanalyze me, or how I feel about the new developments in my personal life?"

Micki rolled her eyes. I could tell she wanted to say something else, but she held it in. I felt terrible.

"I'm sorry, Micki," I sighed. Then I laughed softly, more at myself than anything, but I continued. "I've been down this road before with him. It's nothing. It never was...and it never will be. But that doesn't mean we don't have fun trying."

Micki smiled. "I'm glad you're having fun. And for the record, Freud was a total fucking creep."

I shook my head and finished the last of my coffee. "Yeah, I couldn't think of any other psychologists to call you. How was LA?"

She cocked her head.

"Oh come on, you can talk to me about it." But this was as far as I could go. Saying 'Michael's Mistress' or 'Barton Black' was out of the question.

Micki smiled one of her I'm-so-in-love smiles. "It was great. Alex says hello."

I wrinkled my nose in disbelief.

"Well, he did!" she protested. "And Seth, too...They miss you, you know."

We said our goodbyes—we'd see each other in two weeks. But as I drove back upstate, finally listening to real music rather than political talk and sports analysis on my satellite radio, I had to wonder exact who was included in that 'they' that missed me.

Of course, Micki knew exactly what she was doing when she phrased it like she had.

The wind tossed my hair, War Tapes was blasting on the radio, and Jason Mandrino was texting me.

When are you coming to see me?

I'd answer that later. I smiled, and kept on driving.