by Matayo, Amy
He wanted his life back.
He wanted to be left alone.
He wanted crazy Bob to get the heck away from him.
So he introduced the concept of baby steps. Baby steps toward separating himself from the doctor’s family. Baby steps toward living his own life. Baby steps toward moving beyond fear of leaving the house. In the doctor’s professional opinion, baby steps were the key to everything.
Teddy isn’t neurotic and hardly has a fear of living, but he clearly has a fear of something.
Baby steps.
Maybe a few steps up and back are what he needs to be able to fully move forward.
Maybe it’s a ridiculous idea, but it’s the only one I’ve got.
You’re not quitting your job. A bold demand to make to someone I just met, but I’m serious. He’s not.
I’m not, huh? Well, it’s going to be hard to perform when I can’t get on stage.
I read the message, then read it again, aware that he’s serious. Then again, so am I.
Where are you?
I’m home. I have the next few days off the tour, though it might as well be four years at this point.
I sigh, hating the dejected tone I hear in his words. I pull down Teddy’s text thread and open the dial screen. The first thing I do is call my boss and ask for a few days off.
Then I call a work friend and ask for a favor. Two actually.
And then I buy a plane ticket.
The next time Teddy Hayes has a meltdown, he’ll have to do it in front of me.
* * *
Teddy
When do you leave for New York? Her text read. I raised an eyebrow, surprised and flattered she’d been keeping up with my schedule.
On Tuesday, the day before the concert.
Morning or night? I frowned, unsure where this was going or even why she was texting me at all. I was very sure of my heart beating out of control, however, and it had nothing to do with my run.
Morning. Why? I answered, my head beginning to pound like it was in a band competition with my heart to see who could drum it out faster. A good twenty, thirty minutes went by with no response. But then the telltale three dots began to appear. I knew, because I’d sat down on a bench and stared at my phone the entire time.
My flight lands at six-fifteen tonight. I’ll see you later.
I stared at the phone for a solid thirty seconds before sending a reply.
See me where? What flight? It was a stupid response. I should have known it would be greeted with—
My flight. To Nashville, obviously. I’ve got your address, so I’ll just come there.
This is the part where I smiled. This is also the part where I wiped that smile off fast because she has a boyfriend and that’s nothing to smile about, even if it is Jane, and she’d just announced she’s coming here.
She’s coming here.
I stood up and began to pace back and forth on the road.
Want me to pick you up? I’m not doing anything besides hanging out at the apartment.
No, I’ll take a cab.
I shoved the phone in my pocket, because people look ridiculous staring at their phones while standing in the middle of the street, and I didn’t want to be that guy. Even though I was wearing a baseball cap and the world’s sweatiest, rattiest t-shirt, I’d get recognized just standing here, and I didn’t want that either.
I ran back to my apartment in record time. It wasn’t like Jane would be there already, but tell that to my legs. They were on a mission and who was I to make them slow down. Besides, my apartment was a mess. Liam had left dishes all over the counter, and a few coffee grounds had missed the trash can and landed on the floor.
That was three hours ago. It’s now two-thirty in the afternoon, and I’m standing in a spotless apartment since Sheila—the housekeeper—was willing to come right away. Judge me if you will, but I don’t even own a vacuum, and I haven’t scrubbed a toilet since the last time my mother grounded me. Might’ve been eighth grade. Maybe tenth.
I’ve looked at my Apple watch approximately one hundred million times in the past one-hundred eighty minutes. Jane is coming here tonight. This may be the worst possible idea in the history of ideas, but I won’t pretend to be unhappy about it, at least not to myself. When Liam walks in the door and sees the excitement all over my face…that might be a little trickier to avoid. Especially because he’ll call Chad and tell him, and when the two of them start giving me a hard time, it will last until Christmas, maybe longer.
I can’t wait to see her. Seriously, can’t wait. I’m so excited it’s making me tired.
I think I’ll take a nap.
Chapter Seventeen
Jane
I’m not sure what the word apartment translates to in Teddy’s mind, not now or when he used that word over text earlier, but this isn’t it. In my world, an apartment consists of four hundred square feet of bedroom, bathroom, living room, and what barely passes for a kitchen. I have a tiny refrigerator and a two-burner stove with a microwave on an old moveable cart in the corner. My apartment is made up of plain white walls, linoleum flooring, and matted brown carpet that needed to be replaced two decades ago. But I can afford it, and it’s in a safe enough neighborhood, so that’s something.
By contrast, Teddy’s apartment is designed around security gates and doormen and a speckled granite floor in the lobby. I stand at the elevator and stare at the lighted red numbers as they slowly fall to my level. The elevator stops on thirty-one and twenty-seven consecutively; I’ll probably be here for a while. Which is just great, because time is what I need. There’s nothing like using free time to second guess yourself.
What am I doing here?
I don’t belong. I wore the wrong outfit. The Converse and ripped jeans and oversized black sweater don’t fit with the well-heeled people milling in the lobby. This was a bad idea. I wish I’d been drinking when I booked the plane ticket; at least I’d have a muddled mind to blame and not a perfectly clear one.
I slide my hand across my silver monogrammed necklace a few times...thinking...talking myself out of actually riding this elevator to the thirty-ninth floor. The thirty-ninth. It practically screams penthouse. And that’s when I decide. That’s it. I’m done. Teddy’s a big boy. He’ll be fine. He has friends that can help him through this. What makes me think I—a practical stranger he spent a few hours with in a dark room over a week ago—can do anything? Looking at it from this angle, coming here was a ridiculous presumption on my part.
I turn on my rubber-soled heal to sneak away when someone familiar walks through the front door and spots me.
“Jane?”
I reluctantly smile at the tall guy from the night of the shooting, the one with the fiancé, both of whom were waiting for Teddy in the parking lot. Her name was…I don’t remember. But she wants Teddy to wear a dress in her wedding. I remember that part. Teddy had a very large group of supporters. I remember that part, too.
“Hi?” I don’t mean to say it like a question, but I can’t remember the guy’s name. Starts with an L or a D or something, I think.
He steps forward and holds out a hand. “It’s Liam. I remember you from last week, not to mention everything Teddy’s told us about you since. I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Neither did I.” I smile weakly and shake his hand, suddenly self-conscious and feeling overwhelmingly foolish for showing up unannounced. I mean, Teddy knows I’m coming. But this guy is his roommate, and I’ve just barged my way into his life without asking permission. Maybe I should leave.
“Have you gone up yet, or did you just get here?” he asks.
I bite the inside of my cheek. I’m a professional bodyguard but currently feel like a fourteen-year-old-girl afraid to walk into a school dance without a date.
“I got here ten minutes ago, but I’m a couple hours early. I caught an earlier flight and took a cab. Teddy gave me the address. I’ve been down here trying to work up the nerve to get on the elevator. Thirty-n
ine floors are a lot of floors.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Afraid of heights?”
“Afraid of penthouses and famous country singers.” I swallow. There’s a strong possibility that was a bit too honest.
Liam laughs and pushes the button. “Don’t worry, we’re not nearly as fancy as this building.” He reaches for my duffle bag, and I relinquish it. I packed light; my return flight is scheduled for two days from now, and I have a hotel reserved a few blocks away. Stopping here seemed like the logical first move, though I’m second-guessing that decision, along with my ability to make decisions in general. My judgment was way off. What am I doing here? “As for Teddy, I think he’s more afraid of you than you realize.” He winks, and all I can think is…
Afraid of me? There’s no explaining the warmth that travels through me at the news, so I won’t even try. He doesn’t elaborate. I’m silently begging him to.
“Does Teddy know you’re coming?”
“Yes, we texted about it earlier.”
Liam scratches an eyebrow. From the small smile on his face, I suspect he’s turning over this reality. “Sneaky sucker. He didn’t even tell me. Probably knew I’d give him a hard time.”
“Hard time?” For what?
Liam’s smile breaks free at that; it’s a nice one. “What do you say we go in there and give him a hard time together?”
I can’t help but smile back. “We should probably go easy, or he may kick me out.”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. The thirty-ninth floor is even nicer than the lobby, if that’s possible. The mahogany-paneled doors accented with bronze door knockers lining the hallway suggest it is. It’s further proof that of all the elements in the world, I’m definitely out of mine.
“I can promise you, without a doubt, he will not kick you out.”
I frown when he winks because there it is again. An inside joke that I’m standing just on the edge of. I feel like I should know what he means, but I’m clueless. Liam holds the door and motions for me to step through, then slides past me to lead the way. Three doors down, he pulls out a key and opens it.
When we step inside the apartment, I swallow a knot of discomfort before I remember why I’m here, and tell myself to get it together. Neither man is a stranger, and I know how to defend myself. Besides, Teddy needs help, and I’m here to give it. Enough with the public breakdowns. Enough with letting that gunman continue to terrorize our lives. Teddy has a concert tomorrow night. I’m going to see that he gets on stage to perform.
But when I round the corner and see him on the sofa, my optimism dissolves into a puddle at my feet. He’s asleep, curled into one side of the sofa, his laptop in front of him. A video of his meltdown is paused on the screen, as though he’d been watching it and couldn’t keep from reliving it. He’s stuck in the lift, his eyes wide from fear. I know the part; I’ve watched it a dozen times myself. There’s a newspaper on the floor, folded inside itself to an article about the shooting. Forty-Nine-Year-Old Seattle Gunman Takes Five Lives And Injures Thirteen Others is the headline; underneath the article is a picture of Teddy, as though he and the shooter are one and the same. It’s sloppy journalism at its worst, the reason so many no longer trust the media. If I were Teddy, I might be asleep too.
“Hey lazy, you have a visitor,” Liam says, giving Teddy a shove on the arm as he passes down the hall. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.” He says the words to me just before disappearing around a corner. Even from several feet away, I see the concern in his eyes. Joking over text is one thing, but witnessing someone in person is another. Teddy’s more of a mess than I thought.
“Hey sleepy-head, I got here early,” I say softly, lowering myself to sit next to his legs but careful not to touch them. Teddy startles at the sound of my voice and rolls onto his back, squinting up at me like he’s unsure what he’s seeing. He blinks and then seems to realize it, jolting upward to a sitting position.
“What time is it? Is it already seven?” His voice is thick like he’s been asleep for a while. “I need to shower and change clothes before you get here.”
I smile at his nonsensical words. “Well, I’m already here, so the window for that is closed. Want me to give you a minute? I could go pick up some dinner while you shower. I saw a little Italian place down the street.”
Teddy reaches out a hand and I take it, swinging it between us a bit. He just stares at me, emotion making his breathing deep and his eyes heavy. I don’t look away, convinced he’s still waking up and doesn’t know how much that look and his touch are affecting me. It’s intense, like I’m a life raft thrown at him just before he drowns…like I’m a gallon jug of water after a five-mile run. Either that or the sight of me is making all the bad memories replay in his mind. Most likely a mix of everything.
Finally, he averts his gaze and takes a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with one hand.
“Food. Yes. Do you mind getting some? I swear I’ll look better by the time you get back.” He drops my hand and stands up, reaching for his wallet. He produces a credit card and holds it out to me.
I take it and raise an eyebrow. “You do realize I could still be a crazed fan that might use this on an outrageous shopping spree, right? Awfully trusting of you to just hand it over.”
He flips his wallet onto the bar and stretches, working the kinks out after that nap. “You’re not a crazed fan. Get me a pasta primavera, okay? And some Italian rolls, a Caesar salad, a few cannoli, and whatever you want.”
“You’ll eat all that?” I look him up and down. He’s trim from head to toe, well built without an ounce of fat anywhere I can see. I hate men and their instant ability to convert calories into air.
“I’ll probably eat some of yours, too.” Again, with the wink. Again, with the warm feeling traveling up my spine. “Just a second though.” He yells down the hall to Liam, asking for his order. It’s loud and clear and even longer than Teddy’s. “Did you get that?” he asks me.
“Um, I think I’ll—”
“I’ll text it to you. Are you sure you don’t mind? Dillon is working tonight, so he’ll be hanging with us for a while.”
I smile. “I don’t mind at all.” It might ease some of the tension to have a third person here. Teddy takes a few steps away. I shoulder my purse and walk toward the door.
“Hey.”
I stop and turn to find him standing right in front of me. Before I can ask what else he wants, he pulls me into a hug. His arms go around my waist and travel up my back, and I can’t help it. He smells the way I remember—woodsy and expensive—but it’s his hands that jumpstart my heart. They briefly roam my back in circles, a move that’s both intimate and familiar. I lean in and hang on, and for the oddest second, it feels like I’ve come home. That can’t be right, can it? You can’t find a home in someone after a shared trauma. The statistics are there. Those relationships never work. You can find understanding, sure. Support, for certain. In some cases, even friendship. But a home? Of course not.
“Thanks for showing up. You have no idea how much it means.”
He kisses me on the side of the head, and I feel myself sink.
A home. You can’t feel at home with one person when you just broke up with another.
So why is this exactly the way I feel?
“Of course.” I plant a kiss on his neck and peel myself away. “I’ll be right back.”
I let myself out of the apartment and ride the elevator back down again.
Sinking. Sinking.
Until I land on solid ground and the elevator doors open.
First things first, I head toward the restaurant. Italian food, I’m on a mission to order it. Later, after I’m full and less emotionally exhausted and thinking more clearly, then I can deal with the way my life currently seems to be spinning out of control.
I order all the pasta and bread and a slice of cheesecake for myself.
Like I said, I’ll deal with it later.
* * *
&nb
sp; Teddy
I met my friend Chad in college. He rounded a corner outside the Science lab our freshman year and slammed right into me, knocking my books and the remainder of a Venti Starbucks triple shot white chocolate mocha onto the sidewalk. I wasn’t fully awake and not in the best of moods, so I made some crack about his hillbilly haircut and told him to watch where he was going. Without missing a breath, he told me where I could shove my insult, called me a jackass, then picked up that Styrofoam cup and tossed it at me, sending flecks of brown liquid all over my new white Polo. I caught the cup upside down, giving the remaining coffee grounds a chance to slide down my arm. By the time I bent over to retrieve my books, Chad had walked away, leaving me alone with a stack of books I never planned to open and a killer headache that pounded between my ears.
Two things about that day stand out in my memory. One, Chad majored in finance, hailed from right here in Nashville, and was hardly a hillbilly—his second cousin was a somewhat known musician who sang back up for a locally popular performer who was gaining steam at the time. Plot spoiler: now she’s a painter and probably makes more money than me on a one-hit-wonder that released a decade ago and is now used in a national insurance commercial. And two, I was, in fact, a jackass.
I ran into him—this time not literally—later that day in the cafeteria, shook his hand and apologized. We’ve been best friends ever since. Roommates for two years now, along with his brother Liam. Liam and I have grown close over the years, so close that both brothers are my best friends, the two people I’ve learned to count on more than anyone except for my cousin Dillon. Although, she wants me to be her maid of honor, so I’m not sure she’s all that reliable anymore.
Right now though, as I see Liam’s arm slung across the back of Jane’s chair intently listening to her talk, I’m kind of jealous. If he wasn’t engaged to Dillon, and hopelessly, sickeningly in love with her, I would probably hate him.
