A Flaw So Beautiful Read online

  “Nine.”

  “You’ve been in a non-relationship longer than I’ve ever dated someone,” he admitted.

  It was a one-sided non-relationship.

  Until today.

  “Fuck man,” he muttered, shaking his head, “I thought it was bad before, but that look on your face is making me sick. I can’t continue to look at you.” He crossed his eyes. “I’ll have to do this shit that hurts my eyes, or start looking over your shoulder.”

  I couldn’t nor did I want to stop smiling. I was happy and relieved a little bit that all my time and effort had paid off. I knew it would.

  “Something was wrong with her today,” I told Nick who put his chin in his hands, staring at me.

  “Speak, I’m listening,” he said in a high-pitched feminine voice. “Yes, I know I’m a good friend. The best one you’ll ever have. Feel free to tell me that as much as you’d like, but after you tell me what happened.” He winked at me.

  “Don’t wink at me, pervert.”

  Nick was a good friend. He was there the night I caught my girlfriend cheating on me with my best friend, William. Shortly after that, William and I were fighting and two of our buddies jumped in, apparently siding with William, making me the odd man out. That was when Nick stepped in to help me. He didn’t know me, but I had seen him around campus and at a few parties. We’ve been friends ever since that night. I had no idea why Megan cheated, and with my best friend to top it off, because neither of them spoke to me after that day. She broke my heart; I hurt for a long time. She wouldn’t even talk to me or explain anything, just said she was sorry and walked away.

  “I’m waiting,” Nick pointed out, bringing me back to the present and I went on to explain what happened.

  “Something was off today. She seemed nervous. She rushed to her door, and I noticed her hands were shaking when she tried to open her door. I started walking towards her and she told me to stop.”

  “Did you?”

  “Of course I did, you asshole. She was already upset; I wasn’t going to upset her more. Anyways, she said she was fine, blurted out her name, then rushed inside her apartment.”

  “Anything else different?” he asked. “Like her outfit?” Nick knows everything about our past interactions.

  “Clothes, bags, sunglasses—all the same.” I finished drinking my shake and rinsed my cup out.

  “Did she happen to take off her sunglasses this time?”

  “Nope.”

  “Huh,” he said as he scratched his chin thinking.

  I was thinking the same thing, but I had made progress. “I’m hoping this means she’ll start talking to me.”

  “Fuck, if you were getting laid I’d say you were pussy whipped.” I laughed it off even though he was right. “You know I’m right,” he insisted, though I ignored him.

  I wasn’t whipped. I liked her. I wanted to know her. I wanted to know what happened to make her this way. I wanted to know why today was different. Something happened. Now I would have to wait a week until I saw her again.

  It was time to change the subject. “You still need me to fill in tomorrow?” Nick had fired one of the bar-backs and hadn’t replaced him yet.

  “Yep.”

  “Good. I could use the extra hours. My boss doesn’t pay me enough.”

  He slapped his hand on the island. “Your boss is fucking awesome!”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Eh, he’s all right.”

  “Dickhead.” He jumped to his feet. “Let’s go. I need a haircut.” He gets his haircut every four weeks like clockwork. He goes to the same place, same girl. The first and only time I tagged along I knew immediately why. She had a nice rack and Nick was a boob man. It helped she always wore low-cut shirts and washed his hair prior to cutting it.

  “Why the hell do I want to watch you get a haircut again?”

  “Now that you know her name it’s going to be worse. I thought you had it bad before but I can see it now, you’ll get even moodier as the week goes on. You’ll be more of an asshole than usual, and I heard your boss doesn’t like assholes,” he teased.

  Mondays are the hardest. It takes all my strength not to get up and knock on her door because I know she’s home. I’m holding out that someday she’ll surprise me and knock on my door.

  “Fine. Let me get ready.”

  “This is why I’m your best friend!” he shouted as I walked away to get my shirt and shoes on. “I know you, Linc. I know you very well.”

  I walked back into the living room where he was waiting by the door. “I love you, man,” he said like he’s choking up with emotion. Fake emotion.

  “Fuck off, dude,” I said with a smile.

  “What the hell, Linc?” He faked being heartbroken and even put his hand over his heart. “You don’t love me back?”

  “Get your ass out of my apartment.” I grabbed my keys and followed him out. I looked at her door while locking mine and hoped that she was okay.

  Next thing I know, another week had gone by. Today was Monday Number Ten. I got ready for my run and froze when I got to the front door. Lying on the floor was a black post-it-note with white writing on it. I picked it up and opened it.

  It read: Pinky was a stupid nickname.

  Ashton.

  She had left me a note. Of course, I didn’t see her, but the surprise made adrenaline rush through me, and I hadn’t even started my run yet.

  Two Mondays in a row the girl made me feel like I had won the lottery. I went and taped the note to my fridge.

  Fuck, I’ve got it real bad. I wasn’t going to give up now. I smiled and headed out for my run. In less than two hours, I’d see her again. My hopes were high.

  I had a good feeling about today.

  Chapter 2 - Ashton

  “What did you learn about him last Monday?” Suzanne, my therapist of six years, asked before I could get settled on her beige three-seater couch.

  “Nothing,” I replied, as I pulled my feet up and crossed them under my knees.

  She pulled her glasses off and peered at me. “Was he not there?” She seemed concerned.

  “He was.”

  “Well?” she asked as she put her glasses on the coffee table between us.

  “Something happened last Monday,” I confessed because I’ve never once lied to her. She knew everything, and I mean everything about my life.

  “Did you talk to him?”

  This was the topic of our conversations for the last two months.

  “Yes.” I decided to lay down and stretch out. I loved this couch because it was fairly new but had that super comfy feel to it. “Just like I did the other two times when I told him I was a lesbian and married.”

  “They don’t count,” she said. “I want to know about last Monday.” She prompted me to continue like she was listening to some sort of high school drama story.

  I tossed my hands up in frustration. “I was late.” I held my hands up in the air and continued, “The register at the grocery store froze and stopped working, and my anxiety spiked. I started to freak out. It had taken a few minutes before it started working again, but it put my whole schedule in jeopardy. I rushed all the way home, and he was standing in the doorway of his apartment like he had been the last eight weeks. This time though, he knew something was wrong.” I dropped my hands to my sides and rolled my head to Suzanne who eagerly waited for the rest of my story. “By the time I got to my door, I saw out of the corner of my eye that he was walking towards me. Of course, I froze. I asked him not to come any closer, hoping to control the panic attack or not let it get worse. He stopped per my request and asked me again if I was okay.” Suzanne smiled and looked like she was going to cry. “I told him I was okay, blurted out my name, and ran inside my apartment.” I rolled my head back so I could focus my attention on the ceiling again. “That’s it. Happy now?”

  “Of course I am.” She sounded proud. “This is good, Ashton.”

  She
’d been encouraging me to talk to him since the beginning. I figured the two comments I gave him would immediately send him away. He didn’t believe me. He was there every Monday, waiting for me with that huge smile on his face.

  “Well, I guess you’ll be even happier when I tell you what I did this morning.”

  “I’m listening.”

  I know why I did it. I know what her reaction will be. I can predict her just as much as she can predict me after six years.

  “I put a post-it-note under his door this morning on my way here.” She nodded for me to continue. “I wrote, ‘Pinky was a stupid nickname.'”

  “I agree with that,” she said with a smile, “but that’s it?”

  “That’s it,” I repeated.

  Here it comes. Get ready for it.

  “You did try, and I’m proud of you; but what was the result of what you did this morning?”

  I sighed, “Control.”

  “Why couldn’t you just skip the note and tell him when you got home?”

  “I thought if I told him that, he wouldn’t be upset.” I’m not sure why he was upset, but it was clear he was and for some reason, I had to say something.

  “But it’s been a week?”

  “I know.”

  “It doesn’t make sense, Ashton.”

  I huffed, “No shit.”

  I could hear her scribbling away on her notepad, and I refused to say the next words. After all, she was the therapist and knew best, so I’ll just wait.

  “He was concerned for you,” she said like it’s perfectly normal for some stranger to be concerned about me.

  “I don’t know why. He doesn’t know me.”

  “And why doesn’t he know you, Ashton?”

  This time I glared at her. “Really? You already know the answer to that, Suzanne.”

  I’m not a bitch. At least, I don’t think I am. I just… I get frustrated going over the same shit all the time.

  She shrugged her shoulders and smiled at me. “Tell me again.”

  “I took control. But in my defense, I did not take it away and I couldn’t help it.”

  “You’re right, you took a little. A little too much. It wasn’t needed. You kept allowing him to talk to you. You let him have all the control up until now. Why the change?”

  My frustration level was climbing high. She knew the reasons. She knew all the answers. She does this shit all the time to me. She pushes me and makes me angry and upset all the time.

  Why the hell do I keep putting myself through this shit with her? I jumped off the couch and started pacing behind it like a caged animal. I feel like it… wild, confused, scared, angry… alone.

  “You know I have to be in control. I need to be in control. After I gave him my name it changed things. I opened the fucking door, and now I have no idea what will happen today. The note gave me some control back. It relaxed me. Not a lot, but enough that I think I can handle it now. I can continue to let him talk to me and then I’ll slip him a note Monday mornings on my way out. Now he’ll expect this. I had to do it this way.”

  “You’ve made so much progress over the last six years, Ashton. I’m very proud of you. You’re brave, strong, and independent; I wish you could have just talked to him. I understand why you need the control, we’ve been over it so many times and we’ll continue to deal with it, but I want you to push yourself on this one. This is happening for a reason,” she paused and set her notebook down. “It’s time.”

  I had made progress.

  It had taken four years before I moved out of my parents’ house and I only did it because they passed away. My older brother manages the apartments I live in; otherwise, I’d probably be in the psyche-ward by now.

  I’ve been free for six years, but I’m still trapped. I’m trapped inside my head. I’m trapped inside my apartment. I’m trapped inside my own little world, and still, I need control.

  For some reason, the simple things in life are harder for me.

  I leaned against the top of the couch and took a breath. “It’s time?” I asked.

  “If you don’t talk to him today, I’m changing your visits.” My mouth dropped open; I couldn’t breathe. I dug my fingers into the back of the couch and glared at her. “I don’t care if it’s one sentence. Talk to him. Today.”

  “He’s a stranger! I don’t know him!”

  “Does he scare you?” she shot back.

  “No.” He had a sense of calmness to him. He was always relaxed and leaning against his doorway when I walked in. He never had a shirt on and always appeared to be sweaty. I could only see him for a few seconds until I lost peripheral view of him.

  “Has he ever tried to hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “Has he ever said anything to alert you to the fact that he wanted to hurt you?”

  “You know the answers to these questions, Suzanne!” I yelled at her. I do that when she pushes me. I know she does it on purpose so I don’t feel bad.

  “Then think about it, Ashton. He wants to be your friend. He’s reaching out to you. He doesn’t scare you nor has he ever tried to hurt you. I’m not asking you to go into his apartment. I’m not asking you take your sunglasses off and bare your soul to him. But he’s there every Monday waiting for you. He shared personal information with you because he wants you to know him. And in return, he wants the same from you. I’m just asking that you take a chance and talk to him.”

  “I’m having a panic attack just thinking about it.” I took a deep breath in and let it out. “I can’t do this.”

  “Yes, you can. If you don’t have anything to tell me next Monday, I’m moving your visits,” she threatened.

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  She leaned forward in her chair. “I would,” she said calmly while I was clearly dying.

  “I’ll lie and tell you I did.”

  She laughed at me. “Six years, Ashton. I know when you’re lying but nice try.”

  Shit!

  She was right.

  Just breathe, Ashton.

  “He talks for a few seconds then you can talk. It’s one sentence, Ashton.”

  I thought about it for a few seconds. I could just say something before he gets the chance to. I could talk to him until I went into my apartment. Maybe he won’t interrupt me. I could control it this way.

  “What’s that look for?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “I’ll do it. I’ll say something to him today. But I’m not stopping to chit-chat. I’ll just talk and walk until I get to my door.”

  “Two-way conversation, Ashton.”

  “Of course.” I smiled and went to sit back down on the couch.

  “You say hello to him, let him respond, and go from there. No controlling the conversation.”

  Damn, she was good.

  “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  This Lincoln guy changed things for me. I was in a situation I’ve never been in before.

  “You can and you will,” Suzanne stressed. “It’s time, Ashton. Consider this a tough love situation. If I were truly worried about you, then I wouldn’t push you.”

  “You’re threatening me!” It was totally different.

  “You’ve been coming to me for six years. I know everything about you. I know how you think, how your mind works. This is good, Ashton. You’re more than ready to have a friend.”

  “You’re my friend.”

  “I’m your therapist.”

  “I have Mike.”

  She rolled her eyes and picked up her notebook. “Mike’s your brother,” she reminded me.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “He’s my friend.”

  “He’s your friend because he’s your brother. If he weren't your brother, he wouldn’t be your friend. Plus, you’ve known him all your life. Lincoln is new and can be your friend. A real friend. I want you to push yourself to explore this new relationship. Then after you’ve mastered it,
we’ll go back to working on your clothes,” she teased me on the last part.

  “Ha! It’s been six years. I’d give up if I were you.”

  “Oh, Ashton,” she shook her head, “you should know by now I’d never give up on you. I like you too much.” She stood. “Time’s up. Don’t forget your assignment.”

  I leave her office every Monday at nine and head to the grocery store. I walk everywhere. I don’t drive. There are too many things I can’t control when driving, and I’m not even sure they would approve me to have a license.

  I leave the grocery store no later than nine fifty-five or I’m late getting home. I have to be home by ten-thirty and most days I’m early. I have the food organized and put away by eleven. I allow myself an hour to make my lunch, eat, then clean up after myself, bringing me to noon.

  At noon, I have what Suzanne calls ‘free time.' From noon until four I’m not allowed to plan anything. I have sticky notes all over my apartment and after they fall off the wall, I’m to pick it up and do whatever it says. It gives me partial control, and I’ve been doing this for the last two years, so it doesn’t bother me anymore. I can handle the post-it-notes.

  Every day I partake in my ‘free time’ activities. In my mind, I’m getting better because of it.

  I have issues, I know. I have lived with them for six years. Bad things happen when I lose control of a situation or event. So, when I’m not in control of certain things, I freak out, break down, and feel like I’m going crazy. Sometimes I pass out, but those are the worst of my episodes.

  I also have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD). It’s not as bad as it used to be, but I’ll more than likely live with it forever. Suzanne said I can beat it but I don’t see that happening, ever. I’ve already given up too much control as it is.

  I could never live what others think is a normal life.

  ###

  There were no broken registers at the store today so I was on time. It felt good, and I took a deep breath before I unlocked the main door into the apartment building and walked up the stairs.

  You’re in control today, I reminded myself.

  I would listen to Suzanne, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t do what I planned on doing.