I manage to get the confidence to text Addison the next day. It’s a Saturday and I don’t have any school, thank God. I live for my weekends, just like the kids in my classes do. Part of me wants to see if he’s okay. I know he was hurt in that fight last night and it makes me feel like total shit.

Another part of me, however, wants to turn a blind eye to the whole thing. He flipped out on me. He made me feel like I was nothing. Worse than that, he made me feel scared for my own safety. That isn’t okay. But even with all that bullshit, I still feel a connection to him. It’s one of those conundrums that you just can’t shake.

So I give in to my annoying brain and I text him. “You free today? I need those lights fixed still. My house is getting darker every day.”

He replies within minutes. “Sure thing. I have an opening at 7, if that works.”

“Sounds good,” I reply back. I hold my finger over the keys of my phone, wondering if I should ask how he’s doing. I feel like a bitch, even though it’s not exactly my fault. Wrong place, wrong time. That’s what it was. I decide I’ve said enough and I force myself toward distractions.

I grab my bike and go, even though it is not the time to ride. I don’t care. I need something. I need an escape. I need to feel the wind whipping across my face. I want to feel alive again, as alive as I did when I was with him. “Addison, you son of a bitch,” I say to myself, feeling the air in my lungs get tighter. “Why do you do this to me?”

I walk off my porch and I put my feet on the pedals. I ride like there’s no tomorrow and it feels so fucking good. It almost feels better than sex. I smile and howl, laughing to myself. It’s that fun to just get away from all the crap that’s been stressing me out. Sometimes, you just have to do that. Give it all up and go for a ride.

But then I come across that park, that big open space where we first kissed. The night I ran away. Fuck, I start to remember it all so clearly. I turn into the park and ride up to the bench slowly. I get off and I notice that his jacket is still there, but it’s basically turned into a giant icicle.

A tear falls from my eye, rolling down my cheek. It falls onto the jacket. I wipe at my face and pick the jacket up. I put it in my bike basket and ride home, slowly. It’s getting darker outside and I know Addison will be driving over pretty soon. I look like shit, but I don’t care. He’ll just have to deal with the real me from now on, since I’ve seen the real him.

I ride back and notice that Addison’s car is already in my driveway. He’s leaning against the back bumper, wearing his typical work clothes. Even though it’s freezing out, he doesn’t have a jacket on, just an undershirt. It’s probably because the only jacket he owns is the one in my basket.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says with a smile, like he’s unsure whether or not he’s allowed to call me that.

“Hi.” I smile back, trying to be warm with him, but it’s hard now that we’ve gone through this. His whole face is pretty banged up. It’s totally swollen on one side and there’s a large cut over his left eye. Bruises cover his arms and I’m sure they’re across his chest too.

“Fuck,” I sigh. “You look like shit.”

“Ha, thanks,” he says, sourly. He steps forward and reveals a bouquet of flowers that he was hiding behind his back. “I got these for you. Freshly picked. I know it doesn’t really make up for what I did, but I thought it might be nice.”

My heart feels warm, but I’m also still hurt. I feel guilty too. It’s a bunch of strange emotions mixed together, and I totally hate it.

“Thank you.” I smile, eyes watering up. “They’re so beautiful.” I take the flowers and smell them, closing my eyes. They smell really great.

“I have something for you too,” I tell him. “Well, kind of.”

“For me?” he’s taken aback. “What do I even deserve from you? You shouldn’t have gotten me anything.”

“It’s nothing,” I say, reaching into my basket. I grab his jacket and hold it out. “Your jacket.”

He smiles pretty big when he sees it. “I left it on the bench, didn’t I?” he asks. I nod. “The night we met. That was nice.”

“It was,” I agree. “Until I took off running.”

“Yeah, well, it’s pretty funny to think back on, isn’t it?” he chuckles. “I probably would have run away too. We hardly knew each other then.”

“Yeah, but I guess we still don’t really know each other.”

“That’s sort of a good thing, probably,” he sighs. “I guess I’m kind of an ass. At least, that’s what I’m learning, anyway.”

“Come inside,” I say. “You look cold.”

I unlock my door and set the flowers down on the table. Inside, the heater is going and it’s nice and cozy. I light some candles to get some light going. I turn some of the lights on, the ones that are working, and meet him in the living room. “Thanks for coming,” I say.

“No problem. It’s what I do,” he says. “So, where are these lights? Let’s get this fixed for you.”

We totally ignore the problems between us. We choose to be practical adults instead. I show him the light problem and he goes to work. I imagine this is when all the housewives in the world bring him iced tea and sandwiches, before talking about how their husbands work way too much, leaving them lonely and vulnerable. Of course, here I am, an annoying young teacher who just really wants her lights fixed.

After about thirty minutes, he’s finished and the whole house is finally illuminated. “Good as new,” he says to me, while washing his hands in my bedroom’s bathroom. “You got a towel?” He holds out his hands, dripping wet onto the floor.

“Um,” I hesitate.

“No, it’s cool. He takes off his shirt and wipes his hands. I can’t help but look at his body, glistening from working so hard.

“Do you…” I stutter and gulp down hard. “Do you want some iced tea? Or a sandwich, or something?” I say, blushing.

God, I’m just like those housewives. Before I know it, we’re sitting in the kitchen like everything is okay again. Only, there’s a giant elephant in the room and no one wants to acknowledge it.