Chapter 10

Forgiveness is typically defined as the process of concluding resentment, indignation or anger as a result of a perceived offense, difference or mistake, and/or ceasing to demand punishment or restitution.

There seems to be no words to describe the way I’m feeling at this precise moment in time. I re-read the poem for a fifth time in a row as the words slowly begin to sink in. I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

The child-like poem is sweet I’ll give him that. The flowers are over the top but I get his reasons for sending so many, he didn’t know my favorite flower so he sent every flower on the planet it seems. But if I’m reading this poem correctly then it says something about... no that can’t be right, can it? Can you even do such a thing? Oh yeah, I keep forgetting he’s the King of freakin’ Pop, he can do whatever the hell he likes.

Staring into space as my mind digests the reality of the situation I hear the buzz of my phone vibrating against the glass coffee table.

I check the caller ID and I see right on cue it’s him.

I debate whether or not I should answer but by the time I make the decision to speak to him it rings off. Sh*t.

Within seconds my phone starts to vibrate once again and before I know it I’m already answering.

“Michael you bought me a star?” It’s the first thing that comes out of my mouth. No hello just straight to the point.

“Yes”, he says in a gruff but soft sounding way. “Well no actually, you can’t really buy a uh star but you can adopt one so to speak. You get to name one so I uh did just that, only I named it after you” he says timidly.

“But why?” I say in astonishment.

“Well I, I uh, I thought that even if you don’t forgive me anytime soon, I just hope in time you’ll realize how truly sorry I am and that uh, that every time you look up to the sky at night and you see the stars you’ll be reminded of just that.” The way he says this with such normalcy, I can’t help but wonder how many other ‘stars’ he’s purchased over the years.

“None”, he says. Sh*t did I just ask that question out loud?

For the second time tonight I’m speechless.

“Ava, I am sorry. You may not believe me but I uh I wish I could take back last night and re-do things differently.”

With this statement I feel another mix of emotions course through my veins. With this revelation I ask, “What would you do differently Michael? Tell me.” I pray that he doesn’t say he regrets us going to bed. I pray that he tells me exactly what I want to hear, I don’t think I can handle anymore rejection today. I bait his response with my silence.

The next three words that come out of his mouth, well they kind of shock me at first. I don’t know where he’s going with this.

“Are you alone?” He says in a hushed voice.

The way he says these three simple words I begin to feel the heat rush to my cheeks. I know for a fact I’m blushing hard. Why the heck am I blushing? I’m mad as hell at him! How can he even have this affect on me after the sh*t that went down between us?!
The voice inside of my head is screaming at him, throwing insults and curse words that would make a sailor blush.

Yet nothing of the sort escapes my mouth as I say, “No my cousin is home. Uh, she’s taking a bath.” Anxious to hear what he says next I sit perfectly still until I hear him sigh into the phone.

“Ava, can you do me a favor?” He asks sweetly, “Can you go to your room so we can talk without interruption, please?” I hear a slight beg to his tone so I do as I’m asked. How much more can I make him grovel, right? It appears he’s trying so hard, why not give him the benefit of the doubt I think to myself.

I enter my room in total darkness and lock the door behind me. I sit back on my bed and with the lights off and the sound of his breathing coming through the speaker in my ear; my anger seems to get pushed aside just a bit. I’m reminded of all of our recent phone calls he made to me at night. I loved to just sit or lie in the dark listening to his voice. Somehow it felt so intimate. Also with the darkness surrounding me I felt much more relaxed talking to him so opening up wasn't as hard as it normally was. I’ve never opened up to any man so much as I did to Michael and sitting here in the dark, listening to his breathing I’m reminded of his sweeter side.

“Okay talk.” I say in a somewhat demanding tone. Even though I’m starting to soften I still don’t want him to think he’s off the hook completely, not yet anyway.

I hear him shuffle around on the phone, it sounds like he’s getting into bed but I can’t be quite sure. There’s a faint sound in the background which sounds like people talking, I assume he has the TV on.

“Ava I uh, I’m not very good at opening up and when I set my mind to it I can be pretty stubborn...” He trails off for a few seconds as if to collect his thoughts before he speaks again.

“Go on” I prod.

“Well I, I was wonderin’ that uh, geez I’m not very good at uh” it seems as though he’s struggling to string his words together I think to myself. He’s stammering a bit and this doesn’t sound like the Michael I’ve spent hours on the phone with.

This Michael seems confused and insecure. It hurts me to hear him this way.

Maybe I should help him with this I think to myself as I ask, “Mike would you find it easier if I asked you some questions? Maybe that way you can answer what I need to know instead of guessing what you should tell me?”

The sigh he releases tells me he’s relieved. Clearly it seems he’s not used to opening himself up in this way or maybe it’s just that he’s not used to having to explain himself or his actions to anyone... period.

“Would you?” He says softly. He sounds so feeble and a part of me just wants to hold him and tell him we’ll be able to work things out. But I need answers first.

So I ask, “If I agree to this conversation do you promise you will answer whatever I ask truthfully?”

Immediately it appears without thought, he answers “Yes.”

“Okay good. If I sense you are lying to me I will hang up the phone. Do you understand?” I feel like a teacher chastising a naughty school boy, but he has to know I’m not messing around.

“I understand Ava” he says with a hint of frustration. I guess he picked up on my tone.

“Okay Mike the first thing I wanna know is are you a client of Lucas’?” Before he gives me my answer I already know he’s not as I hear him gasp slightly, must be in shock I think to myself.

“No Ava why would you say that?” He sounds hurt and confused.

I repeat the conversation I had with Shawna earlier on tonight and once I’m done he assures me that he’s only ever met Lucas on one occasion; at a mutual acquaintances birthday party. He’s adamant that it was pure coincidence that he was at the club the same night he met me and I can tell he’s hurt a little by my insinuation that maybe he paid for my company.

The relief that washes over me once we’ve cleared those doubts up is tremendous and I’m starting to warm back up to him again.

“Are you a drug addict?” I ask him next.

“What? No.” He’s quick to respond.

“So why do you have twenty thousand different types of pills all in other people’s names stashed inside a toiletry bag?” 

“It wasn’t that many...” hearing my impatient sigh he quickly continues. “Okay so I uh, well see... Ava do you think I’m a drug addict?” He whispers the last two words as if we’re being listened to.

“I thought I was asking the questions Mike?” Is he stalling I think to myself?

“I know, I know, it’s just well, I need to know. Do you think I am?” He asks.

“Well I didn’t”, I say honestly, “Until I found those pills and when you asked me to leave I thought it was because I had uncovered some dirty little secret.” I’m being honest with him so I just hope that he’ll return the favor.


“So until you found those pills you never suspected I was taking drugs?” He says.

“No.” I say, “I guess I never suspected anything apart from thinking that you like your liquor.” I can’t help but chuckle as I say this. I know the seriousness of our conversation but I can’t help thinking - I just thought he was some kind of lush who secretly loved his booze. Never in a million years did I think he was into anything harder than that. He never acted like he was on drugs whenever I spoke to him.

“See Ava you never suspected anything because there isn’t anything to suspect. If I was on drugs wouldn’t you have noticed it during our phone calls or even last night?” He asks.

“I guess you have a point” I reply.

Before he can say anything else I challenge “But why do you have all of those pills Michael?”

“Well I uh, I...” he stammers. “Well a few years ago I had broken a vertebra in my back and uh for a while I needed a lot of medication to uh merely get me through the day.” I stay silent so that he’ll continue.

“Anyone who suffers with uh severe back pain will tell you that you’ll do anything to make it go away. I uh I guess it didn’t help that I had fallen a few times when dancing, so some days... well sometime I had to be pushed in a wheelchair it was so bad.” He sounds really choked up but he continues.

“As the pain got worse, I guess uh my tolerance to the... to the uh pain medication increased which meant I was taking more and more. Ava I realized I needed to do somethin' cuz the side effects from the medication were also starting to get worse... but I, well I eventually weaned myself off.” I think he’s being honest with me but there’s still a few things niggling at me.

“Are you completely off of them now?” I ask.

“Honestly Ava. No. Not completely but uh nothing compared to what I was like. I guess the fear I have of ever feeling so much physical pain is uh well is the reason I’ve held onto so many of those pills. I uh guess I’m scared of not having the option to take them if I ever need to again.” I can see where he’s coming from but there’s more I need to know.

“So how do you explain the Zoloft Mike?” I know what those were for. My dad was dependent on those in his later years.

“You know what I went through right?!” He says this more of a statement than a question, but yea I know what he’s referring to. I guess during all the time we have spent talking on the phone we never did address the ‘elephant in the room’ so to speak.

I wasn’t gonna be the one to bring this up and when he made no effort to disclose anything about the trial I left it at that. I didn’t believe any of the bull sh!t anyway. After reading bits and pieces in the newspapers, I got the impression that the family were money grabbing losers and he was being set up. I once had a neighbor back east who reminded me so much of that Arvizo woman, she was a nasty piece of work.

“Yes”, I say. Actually I should’ve said no because I can’t imagine for one second what he went through but like I said I know what he’s referring to.

“Well, if you know what I went through you’d understand why I was taking Zoloft. Do you know what it’s for?” He asks. He sounds hurt by my question.

“Depression”, I state as I continue “My father was taking them before... before he died.” I choke back my emotion as I think about my Dad, “they’re for depression.” I repeat as I say this more for myself than for his benefit.

I had already told Michael about my Dads passing but I hadn’t revealed to him how bad he was towards the end.

“I’m sorry Ava, I didn’t uh mean to remind you of any bad memories. But uh depression is not an easy thing to admit to, but I, I won’t lie to you I do uh suffer at times. I guess I have done all of my life at some point or another but during that trial, I went through hell Ava.” He sounds so broken so defeated; I feel my heart breaking for him. There’s so much pain in his voice...

“I uh guess you could say Zoloft is the only medication I haven’t been able to wean myself off of. It’s... well it’s been too hard to function without it ya know? Ava, I hope you believe me I really do but... but do you think we could uh talk about something else for a little while?”

I sense where he’s coming from. Depression is not an easy subject matter to discuss and the last thing I wanna do is make him feel any worse so I move onto my next question and ask, “Why did you ask me to leave this morning?”
“I didn’t ask you to leave” he says, “I asked you to get dressed.” He states matter-of-factly.

“Same thing” I say bluntly.

“No Ava, I asked you to get dressed. I didn’t ask you to leave. That’s not the same thing at all.” He sounds quite p!ssed at my response to his reply so I say “Well you didn’t stop me did you? Your silence said a lot.” I can’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

“No I didn’t stop you. I couldn’t stop you because I felt... well I felt too ashamed...okay?”

Ashamed? Why was he ashamed I think to myself? Because we slept together?

“What were you ashamed of Michael?” I ask, secretly hoping he won’t say the latter of my thoughts.

“I...I saw what I did to your wrists and then I had flashbacks of, of how rough I was with you and... and I couldn’t bear to look at you without feeling... well ashamed.” 

For what feels like the hundredth time tonight, I hear the sincerity in his voice but his answer has left me a bit confused. Yeah my wrists are bruised and I have a few love bites here and there, but I know we were in the heat of the moment and when desire and lust take over, sometimes it’s hard to hold back.

“I’m not ashamed Mike.” I reveal. “You didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t enjoy.” I state as I continue, “I admit that when I woke up and saw you weren’t there I felt a bit used and abused... and.... well some things we did I’d never done before” I say blushing hard. “But you were... well I guess... I guess what I’m saying is I thought you were amazing.” I say shyly.

“I didn’t uh... you saying I didn’t hurt you?” He asks almost pleadingly.

“Yes and No.” I answer honestly. “I was a bit sore when I woke up” I can’t believe I’m saying this to him as my blushing continues. “It’s just, well... I guess I didn’t feel hurt physically, I uh, I felt more hurt inside. I thought you had used me and when you asked me to leave that hurt even more.” 

“Ava I did not ask you to leave, girl can you stop saying that, geesh.” I guess I touched a nerve.

I don’t argue with him. I guess we were both quick to jump to the wrong conclusions so I remain silent until he asks “So where do we go from here?”

I really have no idea. I haven’t had time to digest all that we’ve talked about but I do know for sure that I don’t want us...this to be the end.

“Maybe we start over?” I simply say. Is this the right thing to do? Maybe. Maybe not. I guess as the saying goes only time will tell, but the past few weeks he’s been my something to look forward to at the beginning and end of each day. Do I really want to give that up because of one messed up fight? My heart is screaming no.

“I’d like that Ava.... thank you.” He sounds relieved as he says this.

I feel relieved from hearing his reaction.

“So, uh, so I’ll be back tomorrow evening and maybe... well maybe uh, I guess if you want to that it is uh, maybe I could see you? And we could uh ya know... start over?”He stammers.

My body responds to his question way before my mouth even does. How does he have such an effect on me? I think to myself.

“Okay Mike”, I say softly “let’s do it. Let’s start over” I say trying to contain my emotions that are welling up inside.

I need to lighten the mood between us I think to myself, before we both start crying.

“So tomorrow then...” I say brazenly as though this morning never happened, “Your place or mine?”