forgotten that he'd never been to a meeting. I didn't even know his story. I was being an awful counselor. I leaned over and put my hand on his arm to steady myself. His face was so close when he turned to look at me. "I'm sorry. We can stand in the back. It's not a problem. I was just joking anyway, for the most part. We can take it slow."
"Nah," he waved it away, but gulped. "This is how we're supposed to do it, right?"
"Okay," I said, but didn't feel right. He looked a little green.
We listened. The guy started his story with him dropping out of high school, him losing all his friends because no one wanted to be around a mooch, his dad getting so angry with him that he'd call the cops on him when he showed up because he stole things to sell. When the guy started to tell us about his brother and how they hadn't spoken in years, Milo cursed and got up, practically sprinting to the exit.
I followed him, gripping his arm before he could make it out of the foyer. We were out of the meeting room. No one could see us unless they came looking. He stopped in his tracks, not turning to face me, his muscles so taut my fingers felt like they were gripping stone.
"Milo," was all I could say.
"I can do this on my own." He turned slowly, his face tight and angry, but I could tell it wasn’t with me. "I've done it without the meetings for almost two years. I don’t need this. I don't want to listen to someone complain about their life. That's not what I signed up for."
"What did you sign up for?" I asked softly. Before I knew what I was doing, I felt my fingers in his. Gosh, he was so warm. He softened a little, swallowing as he searched my face for something.
"You don't want to know me, Maya. You don't want to be put into my world. It's not pretty. It's not some fairy tale that I can give you or anyone." He looked sad as he pulled his hand away. "I can't do this. I can't come and listen to them and know that I'll never be able to make amends like they can."
"But you can," I insisted. "I know for a fact that it's never too late."
He laughed sadly, without a trace of humor or malice, and spoke softly, "Maya…you don't know what you're talking about."
He spun around, gripping and rubbing his hair as he pushed through the doors and down the stairs in the parking lot.
It was my job to know what I was talking about, to help people when they needed someone to help them sort through things. I hadn't thought of Milo as one of those people. He obviously had issues about some things—I assumed his family. I knew it was a touchy subject, clearly, but there had to be a way to break him out of his own head and show him that generally, people were forgiving.
He just had to give them the chance to.
Milo
I felt awful the next day. Of course I hadn't said it in anger, but the fact that I walked out on her like that made me feel like crap. And all I wanted to do was get high on something. Anything.
It had been two years since I'd seen my family. I'd felt guilty about that because I knew Mason looked for me. At first, I didn't want to see him at all. As the anger ebbed away, I wanted to see my mother, but knew that going back would only bring them trouble if Roz was looking for me.
Would he still be? After all this time?
It wasn't that much money that I owed him to begin with…I couldn't even really remember. But the fact that the cops knew I had info and wanted me to give it up—Roz would want me dead for that alone.
Maybe I could sneak back for a quick visit, see Mom, and then come back on the sly. I needed to try to get some closure on this. If a guy just talking about his family gets me so worked up, then I needed to face this head-on and figure out what I needed to do.
There was still this part of me that wanted to be mad at Mason. Even though I know it wasn't his fault and I'd done some stupid things in my time that I was sorry for, he was still the cause of all the
"Nah," he waved it away, but gulped. "This is how we're supposed to do it, right?"
"Okay," I said, but didn't feel right. He looked a little green.
We listened. The guy started his story with him dropping out of high school, him losing all his friends because no one wanted to be around a mooch, his dad getting so angry with him that he'd call the cops on him when he showed up because he stole things to sell. When the guy started to tell us about his brother and how they hadn't spoken in years, Milo cursed and got up, practically sprinting to the exit.
I followed him, gripping his arm before he could make it out of the foyer. We were out of the meeting room. No one could see us unless they came looking. He stopped in his tracks, not turning to face me, his muscles so taut my fingers felt like they were gripping stone.
"Milo," was all I could say.
"I can do this on my own." He turned slowly, his face tight and angry, but I could tell it wasn’t with me. "I've done it without the meetings for almost two years. I don’t need this. I don't want to listen to someone complain about their life. That's not what I signed up for."
"What did you sign up for?" I asked softly. Before I knew what I was doing, I felt my fingers in his. Gosh, he was so warm. He softened a little, swallowing as he searched my face for something.
"You don't want to know me, Maya. You don't want to be put into my world. It's not pretty. It's not some fairy tale that I can give you or anyone." He looked sad as he pulled his hand away. "I can't do this. I can't come and listen to them and know that I'll never be able to make amends like they can."
"But you can," I insisted. "I know for a fact that it's never too late."
He laughed sadly, without a trace of humor or malice, and spoke softly, "Maya…you don't know what you're talking about."
He spun around, gripping and rubbing his hair as he pushed through the doors and down the stairs in the parking lot.
It was my job to know what I was talking about, to help people when they needed someone to help them sort through things. I hadn't thought of Milo as one of those people. He obviously had issues about some things—I assumed his family. I knew it was a touchy subject, clearly, but there had to be a way to break him out of his own head and show him that generally, people were forgiving.
He just had to give them the chance to.
Milo
I felt awful the next day. Of course I hadn't said it in anger, but the fact that I walked out on her like that made me feel like crap. And all I wanted to do was get high on something. Anything.
It had been two years since I'd seen my family. I'd felt guilty about that because I knew Mason looked for me. At first, I didn't want to see him at all. As the anger ebbed away, I wanted to see my mother, but knew that going back would only bring them trouble if Roz was looking for me.
Would he still be? After all this time?
It wasn't that much money that I owed him to begin with…I couldn't even really remember. But the fact that the cops knew I had info and wanted me to give it up—Roz would want me dead for that alone.
Maybe I could sneak back for a quick visit, see Mom, and then come back on the sly. I needed to try to get some closure on this. If a guy just talking about his family gets me so worked up, then I needed to face this head-on and figure out what I needed to do.
There was still this part of me that wanted to be mad at Mason. Even though I know it wasn't his fault and I'd done some stupid things in my time that I was sorry for, he was still the cause of all the
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