Crack In The Ice - Chapter 38: Chapter 38

The knock on my door is a surprise.
The person I find staring at me when I open it is an even bigger surprise.
"Mack."
"Hey." She grins.
"I didn't know you were coming."
"Me neither," she says, making herself welcome into my room. "It was sort of a last minute decision."
I close the door and turn to look at her. "Why?"
"I missed you," she says like that's obvious.
I raise my eyebrows.
Mack gives me dry glare. "You don't believe me."
"No. I mean, I do." I walk farther into the room. "Wanna take a seat?"
She slumps down on the chair she always used to sit on when we spent most of our free time in here. Her dark roots are a couple of inches long and she's wearing a canary yellow puffer vest over a light grey sweater. Barely any makeup on, cracked black nail polish, and bulky glittery phone case, she doesn't look like she changed much at all since those days. I probably don't either.
"How's that fabulous life of yours in San Francisco?" I ask.
She smirks. "Fabulous."
"Good."
"How's life in this quaint little snow globe we call home?" She asks.
"Great."
"Good."
"Is it, though?"
She frowns. "What?"
"Home. For you, I mean."
"Sure."
"Mh."
"Why?" She asks.
"It's just..." I shrug, taking a seat at the foot of my bed, facing her. "You never seem very excited when you talk about it. You were always super eager to leave. Thought your new life would be home by now."
Oof. Was that too harsh?
I didn't plan on saying that, but I also didn't plan on seeing Mack today. Can't even fucking remember when I last talked to her.
"It's not really a new life," she says. "It's just... a new chapter."
"Right. So San Francisco isn't home then?"
"I mean, yeah." She sits up straighter, tucking her right leg under her. "Like, a second home. But home is always home. It's where you are."
"Mh."
"What?" Now, she's starting to look annoyed.
"I mean, do I have to say it? I thought we were just kind of letting the elephant chill with us in the room."
I look at her. She blinks back.
"What?"
"We kind of... drifted apart," I say.
"Did we?"
I look at her.
"I mean. Maybe we did a bit," she huffs. "But that's normal."
"Didn't say it wasn't."
Neither of us looks at the other during the moment of silence that follows.
"I did miss you, you know," she eventually says.
"Got bored of your San Francisco friends?"
"I thought you were just being nostalgic, but that sounds bitter." She frowns. "And a little accusatory."
"Sorry. Maybe it was a little."
"I do have new friends. Doesn't mean I don't care about the old ones."
"Right." I press my lips together. "Kinda does, though." When I see her get defensive again, I say, "Not saying it's wrong, but... New life or new chapter, you're not here anymore. And I'm not there. We barely talk, Mack."
"We still talk sometimes," she says.
"We used to talk all the time," I counter. "You knew stuff before I even told you. Now what do you know about my life?"
"Is there something you want me to know?" She asks slowly.
"No," I lie. "I mean, what's the point? If I tell you, you'll listen and then you'll leave. And then you won't be here again."
"You can call."
"So can you."
"We could both call then," she huffs.
"Except you're always out at night and sleeping in the morning, and I'm up from five to ten now," I say.
"What are you saying?" She lets her leg fall from underneath her and leans forward. "We're not friends anymore?"
"Are we?" I look at her. "Should we be? Is it worth it to maintain a relationship if we're not really around and our lives don't really match anymore?"
"And it's my fault for moving away. Is that it?" She's starting to sound pissed now.
"I didn't say that."
"Sounds like you implied it," she retorts. "You changed too, you know. You're living in the same town, but this Olympic Liam lifestyle is a new chapter too. I'm not the only one who's drifted apart."
"I wasn't trying to imply that it's your fault," my voice raises a little too. "Just pointing out the fact that we did drift apart."
"You said I don't care about my old friends because I have new ones. That's not true," she says. "Just because we drifted apart, doesn't mean I don't care. I'm not that fucking shallow."
"Whoa, okay." I force myself to take a pause. "Fine," I say, a little softer. "I didn't call you shallow."
"Really?" Her eyes are alight with a kind of fire that tells me she's ready to keep this going for a couple more rounds if I bite the bait.
I make an effort to speak as evenly as I can, "Maybe I implied things I didn't mean because I am a little bitter."
And a little hurt. And lonely. But none of that is Mack's fault.
"I'm sorry."
She doesn't immediately let her guard down. It's hard not too think that, a few years back, getting a surprise visit from Mack would be the height of my week. Maybe both of our weeks.
"Why are you so upset?" I ask.
"Because everyone's on my back for the way I handle  relationships," she huffs. "I'm not attentive enough, I'm not vulnerable, I don't call home enough. Like there's something fucking wrong with me." She shifts in her seat to tuck her legs under her again. "Maybe there is."
Okay. So maybe I'm not the only one dealing with relationship drama that affects my mood.
"I think I'm gonna circle back to earlier in the conversation and flip the tables," I say. "Is there anything in your life you want me to know?"
"Forget it."
"No," I insist. "Talk to me."
"What's the point? We're not around anymore, remember?"
"Maybe we can try to be," I say. "Or not. Either way. You can still talk to me."
The look she gives me is strange. She looks seriously upset. It's not an expression I've ever really seen on her.
"It's stupid," she mumbles.
"Never stopped you before."
She snorts. With an eye roll, she says, "I met someone in San Francisco. A friend of a friend. We had fun. I liked them, but not really. Not like they liked me. And they broke up with me."
"Okay."
"I don't know what's wrong with me."
"Who says there's anything wrong?" I frown.
"Have you ever been in love?"
I actually lean back a bit from her question. Her eyes don't move away from me, though, refusing to let go without an answer.
I gulp. "Yes."
"Fuck. See? I didn't even know what you would say. We really don't know each other anymore."
"Mack."
"Mh."
"We still know each other a little," I say. "What's wrong?"
"I'm twenty-three and I've never been in love. Not once. Not even a little. Not even close. Not sure if I even get what all the fuss is about."
"Okay."
"Is it?" She shoots back. "Because the guy I went out with in my college junior year didn't think so. And neither did Dean Miller in high school. Or the person who just broke up with me because I couldn't say it back."
I frown. "Say it...?"
"You know. I love you."
My chest tightens. Oh.
I need to take a moment to remind myself this isn't me. This is not my life. Even if I know what it feels like to be on the other side of a stray, unanswered 'I love you', this conversation isn't about me right now.
"You couldn't say it because you didn't feel it. So what."
"I can never feel it," she says. "With anyone. I always end up feeling like a jerk for not reciprocating feelings that I'm starting to think... maybe I'm not capable of feeling."
"The Mack I knew in high school used to be pretty good at laying out rules," I say. "You were always honest about your intentions going into a relationship. If that's still the case, you're not a jerk for not reciprocating feelings."
She doesn't say anything.
"Why do you say you might not even be capable of reciprocating feelings?" I ask.
She sighs. "This person I was with. They were perfect, Liam. In every way. Not just my type. Like, everything felt fucking amazing. If I couldn't love them... Maybe I'm just broken."
"Now that is stupid."
She glares at me.
I laugh. "Mack, you're not broken. You're twenty-three. And maybe you haven't been in love. So what. Who says you even have to? Ever?"
"Seems like everyone does."
"Everyone thought low rise jeans were a good idea a few years ago. Everyone can be dumb sometimes."
She snorts. I smile.
"So," she says before the silence can get awkward.
"So?"
"You've been in love," she muses.
"Mh."
"I just had a breakdown in front of you. You owe me this, dude."
I scoff. "I owe you nothing."
"Was it Rachel?"
"No."
"It can't have been me."
"Fuck no."
"If you say Rafael I will hurt you," she deadpans. "Dude was hot but you had about as much in common as a cabbage and a car engine."
I snort. "No. It wasn't Rafael."
"Who else was there?"
"I can't say."
"Why not?"
"They're not out."
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"No. I mean. Dude, wow."
I frown. "What?"
"I thought you were smarter than that," she says.
"I am smart. It doesn't have anything to do with smart."
"Sure it does. Being with a closet case when you're out involves zero smart. Textbook definition of stupid."
"It wasn't a choice."
"How the fuck is it not a choice?"
"It started as a hook-up, okay," I say, sounding a little too defensive. "No feelings. No strings. Simple."
"And?"
"And the feelings snuck up on me."
"How?"
"I don't know, Mack. Sometimes people catch feelings."
I don't know if she senses my agitation, but her face softens. "Why didn't you pull away when you noticed the feelings?"
"Because I didn't want to," I answer honestly. "I was too far in."
She tilts her head like she's trying to think how to express her thoughts politely. "That sounds stupid," is what she comes up with.
"It is," I say. "And it also isn't. It's just... Whenever we were apart, I felt like shit and knew I had to stop it. But then I saw them and my insides got all weird. I felt like the feeling of getting my heart ripped out would be worth a few minutes with them."
Her face contorts in a strange kind of contention. Like it physically pains her to hold back judgement.
"And is it?" She asks.
"The most fucked up part is I don't know," I admit. "I wanna say no, but a part of me still thinks it is. Like if they pushed just a little I would say yes to being their dirty secret forever."
"That's fucked up, Liam."
"I know."
"Have you made this clear? How you feel?"
"I guess."
She lets out an impatient huff. "This can't be an 'I guess' kind of situation."
"We did have a pretty honest conversation recently."
"Were you clear about your feelings?"
"I guess."
"Liam."
"What?" I whine. "I can't cut them off, okay? I physically can't. Not yet."
She looks at me and I can't crack the expression on her face. Is it pity?
"Shit," she says. "I leave you alone for a minute and you completely destroy your life."
I roll my eyes. "Fuck off. You can't fool me anymore. I'm now almost positive that fabulous San Francisco life of yours isn't so fabulous after all.
"It's pretty great, honestly," she muses.
"Yeah?"
She shrugs. "I know you don't like hearing it, but I was never cut out for this small town life. For a while I thought you might actually be the same and we could go live our queer adventures away from home. But you're pretty happy here, aren't you?"
"Yeah. I guess." I smile. "The only adventures I ever wanted were in my career, to be honest."
She grins. "That seems to be going pretty well for you. Mr Olympic Medal."
"Yeah," I laugh. "I guess we're both doing pretty well. Love lives aside."
"Kinda sucks we're doing pretty well without each other," she says.
I smile. "Yeah. It does."
She lets her head fall back against the wall with a groan. "I need comfort food. This got way more intense way sooner than I thought."
"Wanna go down for dinner?" I ask.
"Yes, please. You're buying."