Maybe Maby

  “Obsessively pulling out hair is known as trichotillomania. It can be fairly common for people with OCD, but you’ve never mentioned feeling this compulsion. Is this new for you? Did the feeling go away or did you give in to it?”

  “I started running instead and it helped get my mind off of it.”

  Dr. Still leans up in her seat. “Good. You’re still not fully answering me, though—have you ever wanted to pull your hair out before?”

  I shake my head no.

  “Okay. I’m glad you distracted yourself. Exercise is actually a powerful tool that works. I know it sounds trivial to simply start running, but you did the right thing. I’ve mentioned you trying yoga before, but if you prefer to run, I’m good with that. A dance class would be great too. Do you like to dance?”

  “I like it, I’m just not any good at it,” I admit.

  “All the more reason for you to take a class,” she says with a smirk. “I’d like to talk to you about some relaxation techniques I think will help you. I’ll refill your medication today and I hope you will take it. If you take the medicine, it will help you carry out the other tools I’m trying to give you. Okay?”

  I nod.

  “It would also be good for you to start journaling. Some find that it helps to write out their anxieties and compulsions as they come. If writing about it just makes you want to live out what you’re writing, start writing a story, a poem, anything else that might get your mind off of it. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I hope you really mean it this time, Mabel, because I have hope that you can get better—IF you take action.” She looks at me sternly.

  I nod my head again.

  “Now … what got you to rock bottom?”

  I REFILL MY prescription and go see Paschal. He yells when he sees me.

  “You disappeared on me,” he moans as he gives me a hug.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been going through a bad stretch. I’m here now though, and you’re not getting rid of me.” I grin.

  “I have a client coming in soon, but I want to see you—come back and I’ll touch up your color.” He fingers the fading blue.

  “Okay, I will. Would tomorrow work?” I ask.

  “Yeah, come in around 11:30—maybe we can go get lunch too?”

  “I’d love it!” I give him another hug goodbye as his client walks in the door.

  I step outside and start walking toward the coffee shop. I don’t know if Coen would even be working right now, but I’ve avoided him long enough.

  It’s late Friday afternoon, and so nice outside. Spring has finally decided to show up. I pull off my sweatshirt as I stand outside the shop and try to casually look in the window. My heart drops. He’s in there. I watch him for a while, until he notices me. Shit.

  I turn around and count to 14.

  “Maby?” he says quietly. He’s holding the door open.

  “Hey, Coen.” I turn to face him and lift my hand in a small wave.

  “I thought that was you.” He smiles tentatively and opens the door wider. “You coming in?”

  “Sure. I may as well.” I tilt my head up to the sky and hope that my stupidity will be carried off with the angels.

  He lets me in and heads toward the back of the shop, looking back to see if I’m following. All of a sudden, he stops walking and I bump into him. Again they fail me—why do I still hope in the supernatural?

  Coen puts his hand on my arm. “Did I mess everything up, Maby? I went too fast, didn’t I?”

  His eyes look so sad and so earnest, I want to take up that running regimen and run miles and miles away from here.

  “You were perfect, Coen,” I whisper.

  His hand finds mine then and he pulls me to a table in the back.

  “Then why do I feel like you’re done with me?”

  I put my head in my hands. “You’re way too good for me,” I make my voice sound like the cold bitch that I am.

  “You’re deciding for me again. I get a say in this, you know.”

  “I know.” I discreetly wipe my eyes before I lift my head. “Just trust me. It’s good if you get out of this,” I wave my hand between the two of us, “before it ever even gets started. It’s for the best.”

  His long, curly eyelashes sweep up and down as he blinks, trying to comprehend all I’m not saying.

  “Let me get this straight.” He scoots his chair closer to mine and gets in my face. “So … I like you. I think you like me. We have this,” he waves his hand between the two of us, mimicking me, “crazy spark when we’re together … but, what? You’re scared? Is that it? Did something happen to change your mind about me?”

  “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  He rolls his head up to the ceiling. “Oh, Maby. Do you know how overused that line is?”

  “But it’s true,” I sputter. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You’re … wonderful. Any girl would be so lucky…” I stop when he holds up his hand.

  “Stop! If you don’t want to be with me, just say it … you don’t need to sugarcoat it with all this crap.”

  “I’m not trying to sugarcoat it!”

  “Is it because I’m too nice?”

  “I love how nice you are!”

  He leans back in his chair and studies my face.

  I clear my throat. “I like you. A lot. I just—I lost my job, everything feels so unpredictable with me right now, and I can’t stand the thought of taking you down with me.” I shake my head. “I won’t do it.”

  I don’t say anything about Saul because I’d decided to end things with Coen before that even happened with Saul. I still don’t really know what is happening with Saul.

  We stare at each other and Coen takes my hand. He laces his fingers through mine without breaking eye contact.

  “Do you have plans this weekend?” he asks.

  “Uh, not really.”

  “Come with me tonight. I have to go to my parents’ house. We can come back tomorrow night or Sunday, if you’d like.”

  “Have you heard a word I’ve said?” I ask him, taking my hand back.

  “I have. I’ve heard every single word.” He gives me the grin that makes my insides drool and picks up my hand again.

  His wavy hair is so perfectly messy, I have a hard time looking away. But I do. He gently nudges my chin until I’m looking at him again.

  “Now, would you listen to me?” he asks.

  I blink in agreement.

  “I’m not trying to marry you or anything—not that the idea is grotesque—but I would like to … hang out?” He lifts his eyebrows, trying to gauge my reaction. “I’d like to be with you … whenever, however, whatever you might be okay with. If,” he holds up his index finger, “you like me at all. If you don’t really, we can go on and I can let the baristas do their job so they make your coffee from here on out. I can give you a friendly hello and that will be that. We’ll have a nice little memory of a couple fun times. I, in particular, will always have one very fond memory with you.” He slowly gives my body a once over and I blush. “But if you do like me at all,” his smile fills up his whole face and I nearly squint from the light, “give me a fucking chance.”

  My eyes get wide. He does like to throw in a surprise here and there, what with the whole balls conversation and now this. I like it. I like it a lot. I like him a lot. Even if I don’t want to. I just do.

  It’s like he hears every thought I’m thinking because his smile gets bigger and bigger. My heart is about to palpitate out of my chest and I don’t think I can breathe until I—

  “Okay!” I yell.

  “Okay, what?” He bites his bottom lip, and his dimple gets so deep I want to lick it.

  “I’m not promising anything,” I tilt my head to the side and try to hold back the smile that’s fighting its way out, “but I’ll give you a fucking chance.”

  He squeezes his eyes shut and starts nodding his head. “Yes. That’s -”

  I cut him
off. “But I can’t go with you this weekend.”

  His forehead creases with his frown. “Why not? You said you don’t have plans.”

  “I’ll give you a chance, but I can’t rush into anything, Coen. I’m not kidding about being a mess. I’ve been so up and down, and…” I look away, embarrassed but also determined to tell him the truth. “I’m just not ready to make any decisions right now. If you’re not okay with that, then we can just have a nice little memory of a couple fun times,” I repeat his words back to him.

  “Fair enough,” he says. “Would it change anything if I said I’d keep my hands to myself this weekend?”

  I laugh. “I’m not sure we’re capable of being around each other and keeping our hands to ourselves.”

  “Come on.” He gives me a lopsided grin that makes my gut twist. “It’ll be fun to try.”

  “Maybe another time,” I promise. “I have to go see Paschal tomorrow anyway … forgot about that.”

  He sighs. “Okay.”

  I take a deep breath and know that I have to come out with the rest. “And some things happened with Saul the last couple of days that I still need to process.”

  The fun is instantly zapped right out of the room. He flinches, as though I’ve hit him.

  “Oh, so that’s what this is about.” He stands up and pushes his chair back.

  I stand up and resist touching him. “No, I told you the truth. You’re too good for me. It’s only a matter of time before you realize it.”

  “What, and he’s not?” He looks away and rubs his chin.

  “Saul knows what he’s getting into. You don’t.”

  “So, he’s safe,” he says flatly.

  “Maybe.”

  He shakes his head and then catches me off guard by leaning down and kissing me. Not a sweet kiss. A scorching, send my heart soaring kiss that makes me lose my air and all reasoning. My hands are wrapped in his hair where they’ve been dying to be, when he stops abruptly.

  “Does he make you feel like that?” he asks before he walks away.

  He turns around as he gets to the door of the kitchen. “I’ll call you later. No more running, okay?” He smiles, kisses his fingers, and holds them out to me.

  I’ve never seen anything any sexier.

  WELL, I THOUGHT my life was confusing before. I shuffle home and walk slowly up my 36 stairs and softly close and lock the door behind me. I look around at my apartment and decide I’ll find a yoga video to do online. I need something to occupy my mind.

  I find a short video and get after it. As I’m twisted over in one move, I see my belly bulging over my waistband and speak to it.

  “You’re not gonna be around much longer.”

  My flab is actually significantly smaller than it was a few weeks ago, but I can hardly take credit. I’ve gone about it all the wrong way. I stretch and think that it feels so nice to finally do something right for my body, I’d love to lose the chub in a healthy way. I see the tips of my fingers in the mirror as I raise my arms high over my head in another stretch. I vow to myself to make it a priority every day to treat myself well. No more junk, no skipping meals, no more binge eating, no more negative thinking, no more hate.

  I stand up and press my hands together, breathing in good thoughts and blowing them out into the room. I feel so silly, I giggle, but my eyes burn with moisture too. This has been one of the most topsy-turvy weeks of my life.

  “It’s time to get your shit together, Maby. And you can quit talking to yourself starting now.”

  I take another shower and collapse into bed.

  THE PHONE WAKES me up the next morning. I answer groggily and peer at the clock through squinted eyes. 9:47. Wow. I slept hard.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you,” a girl’s voice says. “It’s Melissa.”

  “Uh, it’s okay. Hi…” I rub my forehead and try to remember who Melissa is. “Oh! Coen’s cousin, Melissa?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I can call you back later if you’re not awake yet.”

  “Oh no, I’m awake now. How are you?”

  “I’m really good. I’d hoped we’d all do something together by now, but Coen’s taking too long to set it up. Jade and I are getting impatient, so we thought we’d see if you want to go get drinks with us tonight.”

  “Did Coen put you up to this?” I ask, frowning.

  “No! To be honest, I didn’t even tell him I was calling you. I went to get coffee and he wasn’t there this morning, so…” She sounds unsure of herself.

  “I’d love to get drinks with you and Jade,” I jump in. “Sounds … really great!” Good lord, I sound perky. Gotta nip that so she doesn’t expect Little Miss Sunshine. “What time?”

  “Are you opposed to The Village Idiot around 5?” she asks.

  “Not at all.” I laugh, knowing I can at least afford that place.

  “Awesome. See you there!”

  I’m pretty sure she is Little Miss Sunshine, so this should be interesting.

  SAUL CALLS AS I’m walking to the salon. I almost let it ring, but know part of becoming stronger involves me facing things head on. I think back to Coen saying, ‘No more running’ and how ironic it was that Dr. Still encouraged me to run on the same day. Two very different messages, but I heard them both clearly.

  “Hi,” I answer.

  “Hi. What are you doing?”

  “Gonna get my hair done…”

  “Ah. Well, I just wanted to … see if you were okay. I didn’t know whether to call you last night or give you space.”

  There are a few tick-tocks of awkward.

  “I went to bed pretty early.”

  “I wish you’d stayed, Maby,” he says.

  “I need to work some things out on my own, Saul. It’s time.” I clear my throat, not knowing what else to say.

  “We can work it out together,” he says it almost as a question.

  “I never quite know what you really want, Saul. I said it yesterday and you never set me straight.”

  He’s quiet.

  I feel the frustration build when I think of all the second guessing I do with Saul. It’s always been that way. For someone so honest, it would seem like he’s an open book, but he’s far from it.

  “Either way, I have to figure out what I really want.”

  “Sometimes I’m not sure what you really want to hear,” he admits.

  “The truth, for starters.” I round the corner and stand outside the salon. “I’m gonna keep seeing Coen, Saul.”

  I hear his intake of breath.

  “What?”

  “I told him I had some things to process about you, but that I want to give him a chance too.”

  “Too? Like, you want to date both of us?”

  “I don’t know. More like, I need to figure out if I want to date either one of you.”

  “Shit, Maby. What’s it gonna take for you to figure it out?”

  “I don’t know, Saul. When I figure that out, I’ll let you know.” I hang up before he can make me any angrier.

  I SQUEEZE INTO some jeans that haven’t fit for a while. I know I should just be excited that they’re fitting at all, but the muffin top keeps it real. I wear a loose shirt to help cover up the flab and extra makeup to bring the self-confidence up just a few notches.

  Melissa and Jade are both gorgeous. Tall and willowy like models—Jade with her long red hair and Melissa with her dark brown curls—I’m going to feel like a hobbit next to them.

  I’m more nervous than excited. I’m not sure why they want to get to know me. And, if I’m being honest with myself, I’m a little gun-shy. I haven’t had the best luck with girlfriends.

  They’re waiting for me when I get to The Village Idiot. Both of them stand up to give me a hug, and I blush like a schoolgirl. They have lemon drop martinis and I order a gin & tonic just to be different. The martini looks better.

  “So glad you agreed to meet up with us,” Jade says with a grin. “Has my brother scared you off yet?”

  “Ha! No?
??I’ll probably be the one to do the scaring off,” I admit.

  They laugh like I’ve made a joke, but I know I’m telling the truth.

  Jade shakes her head. “He has it bad for you. I told him I was seeing you tonight and he gave me a list of things we couldn’t talk about.”

  “Well, of course, that’s what we need to start with,” I say and clink their glasses with mine.

  They laugh again, but again I was serious. It seems no one is used to straight up honesty anymore.

  “I just love your hair,” Melissa says. “And the pink is so great. Did you just add that?”

  I nod.

  “I could never get away with it.”

  “Are you kidding? Your hair is perfect.” I tell her.

  “So what do you do for fun?” Jade asks.

  “Uh, well … I’m not very exciting. I’m trying to get back … out … there,” I mumble.

  God, I’m such a dud. They’re going to regret ever inviting me.

  “Did you have a bad breakup or something?” Melissa asks.

  “Yeah, you could say that.” I smile. That’s it. Among other things.

  “Coen mentioned your mom passed away, too. Maby, I’m so sorry,” Jade says it softly, but puts her hand on my arm, solidifying her words. “I can’t imagine.”

  I look at them both and am moved that they seem to care. “Thank you. It’s been over a year, but I still can’t seem to get past it. I’m trying.” I give them a wobbly smile.

  “I don’t think that’s something you ever get over,” Jade says.

  We’re all quiet for a moment.

  “If you ever want to talk about it or to just get out and try to clear your head for a while, call us!” Melissa puts her hand where Jade’s was.

  “Thanks, I will. So, what do you do for fun?”