Page 8 of Rematch
“Wait,theMax Guerra is your ex-boyfriend?” My friend, Gianna, squealed beside me. We were sitting in one of the on-call rooms, eating a quick snack. Since the beginning of our shift, she’s been picking at me for details on my date with Carter. Usually, I didn’t mind sharing the details at the nurse’s desk or on our walks together in the hall. But given my reunion with Max, I thought it’d be best to keep this conversation a bit more private.
Gianna was one of the psychiatrists on the emergency department team. I met her during my first shift at the hospital. Upon our first meeting, I was mesmerized by her full afro, decorated with butterfly clips, and dark brown skin that glowed even under the fluorescent lights. Unlike others who’d been condescending and border-line rude, she kindly welcomed me to the team and spoke to me with respect. Now, Gianna was one of the few people I actually felt comfortable confiding in. One I considered a true friend.
“Oh my gosh, why didn’t you ever say anything?” She asked. “He is one of the hottest - I mean, greatest - MMA contenders on the scene right now! I know his pockets arethickright now! If I were you, I might consider spinning the block one good time - if not for the money then definitely some dick. I know that shit was good. That man is fine as hell.”
I giggled. “That’s not the point!”
“Alright, I’m listening: what’s the problem?”
I shoved another handful of chips into my mouth as I contemplated my answer. There was way too much history between Max and me to fit into the tiny frame of stolen time. If we really wanted to get into it, we were going to need at least an hour - and a big old bottle of wine. She’d have to settle for the concise answer for now. “Max is…well, he was a lot of my firsts. First kiss. First date. First serious boyfriend.”
“First time?” Gianna asked with a raised brow.
I tried to hide my smile as I nodded. “But, he’s complicated. He always has been.”
“Mhm. Most of the fine ones are. You’ve gotta find another excuse. What is he? A chronic liar? A cheater?”
“No, no. Max is a lot of things, but he’d never…”
“Then, what happened?” Gianna asked, softening her voice.
“Well, when I moved away for college, long distance took a real toll on us. Being on opposite sides of the country was hard. But being in two different headspaces? That was worse. I was focused on school, and Max was focusing on his fighting career. Our schedules were super demanding, and it was hard to find time to talk.
“Without me around, Max started having a hard time staying on the straight and narrow path everyone set out for him. And with the pressure from school, I didn’t have the patience to deal with him. It just felt like I was growing and he wasn’t. I know that’s not uncommon…that people outgrow each other. But, before he was my boyfriend, Max was my best friend. He was the last person I wanted to outgrow.
“So, we did our best to make it work. And we did for two years. But, by junior year, we were both really in the groove of our own lives. Since we were so far apart, we started missingthings, talking less, arguing more. Our relationship was already on the brink of collapsing when…”
I paused, the memory barreling down like a weight on my chest. “One night, my dads called to let me know Max, and our friend, Jordan, had been caught in the middle of a drive-by. Thankfully, Max made it out with a few grazes, but Jordan…” I paused, the words stuck in my throat. “He didn’t,” I murmured.
Gianna’s brows came together. She grabbed my hand and gave it a soft squeeze.
Sighing, I blinked back the tears threatening to pool in my eyes. “I flew home as soon as I could to check on him, but by then he’d already started self-destructing. All his anger, grief, and guilt - because of course he blamed himself - had him losing his mind. He was shooting off left and right, pushing away anyone who tried to give a damn about him. When I saw him, he was angry about a lot of things, and he had every right to be. But I hadn’t expected him to be mad atme. For being so far away. For putting our relationship on the back burner. For neglecting him.
“We ended up in a screaming match, and we said a lot of things we didn’t mean…a lot of things we can’t take back. That fight sealed the coffin of our relationship. Or whatever was left of it, anyway.
“After Jordan’s funeral, I stopped coming home for the summer. Besides my fathers, there wasn’t much there for me anymore. So, my fathers helped me get an apartment near campus, so I could work and continue taking classes during the breaks. They flew to visit me, and I…I just left everything in Los Angeles behind.”
She squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry. That couldn’t have been easy - for both of you.”
“Yeah, I was in hell for a long time. Losing important people is always hard, but two at the same time.” I scoffed. “I drownedmyself in schoolwork to dissociate. I just needed something else to focus on besides the pain.”
“Did you or Max ever reach out afterwards? Try to make amends?”
“Max called a few times, but I never picked up because I didn’t know what to say - I didn’t think was anything we could say to fix what we’d broken. After a while, he stopped. I moved on. And so did he.”
Gianna raised a brow.
Before she could speak her mind, I felt the buzz of my pager on my hip. I looked down to see an SOS from the emergency room. “I gotta go,” I told her. “Thanks for listening.”
“Girl, you never have to thank me for that. It’s what I’m here for.” She gave me a tight hug, pulling back some of the pieces threatening to fall apart. “Just don’t forget to pass out the rest of the flyers for the Fall Festival later,” she called after me as I headed for the door. “And try to recruit some booth hosts while you’re at it! Apparently, we still have a few slots to fill.”
“Got it!” I said as I slipped through the threshold of the door. Instantly, I was thrust into the chaos of doctors and nurses bustling through the hall. I merged into the teeming crowd and down to the pit.
I spent the last few hours of my shift flitting around the emergency room, tending to incoming patients.
After work, I drove down to Dad’s restaurant. Despite the doctor’s recommendations to take it easy, he still found every opportunity to be needed there. “I’ve been running this place for almost 30 years,” he always said whenever Papa and I got on his back about it. “Spending more than a few days away just feels wrong.”
Since being there makes Dad happy, Papa and I have been letting him work. I stop by often to check on him and make sure he’s not over exerting himself. Most times when I popped upon him, he was confined to the office, taking care of the clerical tasks and making schedules. He only went out into the kitchen or the dining floor if he absolutely had to.
