Sweetheart Braves

by Pamela Sanderson

  "Could you take us?" she asked Tommy.

  "I wish. Even if I could get away, I don't have any wheels," he said. "Sorry to let you down, Auntie."

  "When do you get your car back?" she asked.

  After a long pause he said, "Never. It died. That was the call earlier."

  Maybe his mechanic was Angie.

  "Let's ask to borrow Linda's," she said.

  "I can't leave town," he said without further explanation.

  "At least we tried, Granny. We can come back here someday."

  Granny muttered to herself.

  Tommy got the bus going again. "You two have to go home?"

  Elizabeth said, "Yeah. I have to start work. It's my last night in town. Do you want to do something fun?"

  "I'm not fun," he said with an adorable nervous ring to his laugh.

  "Let me be the judge of that," she said, hoping he had a favorite spot, a fun bar with live music, or a little cafe with desserts she couldn't get at home.

  "Unfortunately, I can't."

  She couldn't tell if he was genuinely regretful or if she'd misread their interactions.

  "I have a situation I can't ignore," he said. "Drop you off at Linda's?"

  She and Granny had to pack up and figure out how they were getting home. "Hope we see you before we go."

  Linda would not approve of him using the UIC bus as his main wheels but he could keep that a secret for now. One problem at a time. He’d told Angie he'd come by and he failed. She was bound to stir up some drama to punish him.

  He picked up a couple of cartons of Pad Thai and walked back to the apartment regretful that he wasn't having dinner with Elizabeth. He pretended he had a different sort of life, where he was free for spontaneous plans and could date an incredible woman.

  Tommy could hear voices as he walked up to his apartment. The front door was ajar. He clung to the hope that she had gone to a meeting. Maybe she found a friend and they decided to brew up some coffee and talk about their plan for staying sober. Then a man's bellow of laughter followed by the clunk of a bottle falling and rolling across the floor. Tommy pushed the door open.

  Angie's upper body was draped over the kitchen table, her face buried in her arm, her body shaking with laughter. The guy was college-age, his backpack leaning against the wall. He was a head taller and probably had fifty pounds on him, but there was nothing menacing about the visitor.

  "What's going on?" Tommy said.

  Angie sat up and pushed her hair back from her face. She wore stained sweatpants and one of his T-shirts that was too big for her. She gave him a comic look of surprise. "You're home early."

  "Have you been drinking?" Tommy asked, even though it was obvious. They each had a beer in front of them and the empties lined up on the table.

  "Have you been drinking?" she repeated in a high-pitched voice. "This is my friend Jason." The real surprise was that she hadn't brought home more Jasons. She was still too young to buy. She leaned over and kissed her Jason.

  "You can't have friends here, Ange."

  "You can't stop me," she said.

  "I can. This is my place. Jason has to leave."

  Jason studied the beer bottle. He had the bearing of a drunk man ready to make poor decisions.

  "No trouble, bud."

  "I'm not your bud," Jason said.

  "He bought the beer," Angie said.

  Tommy was overcome with competing urges. One, to grab them by their shirt fronts and kick them out. The other, to hand over the apartment keys and run away. There had to be someplace he could go that was easier than this.

  Something in Angie's face wavered like already she had regrets, but it was too late. She'd jumped off the cliff, and if she was in free fall, she was going to get the most out of it.

  Tommy took a deep breath to push down the burning resentment and tried to see the person who needed his help. His eyes stopped at the four unopened beers on the table.

  If they'd been sitting out, the beer wouldn't be as cold as he liked. Nothing beat the first sip of a frosty beer on a warm day. How long had it been?

  Angie followed his gaze and gave him a sneaky grin. She pushed a bottle toward him. His eyes traveled from it to her, and the glassy look in her eye and the tilt of her head.

  He'd promised to help her.

  To Jason, he said, "Pack up the beers and get out of here."

  "No!" Angie sounded like a small child getting her favorite toy taken away.

  Jason struggled with the command. He stared at the beer while he made up his mind. Tommy's hands were shaking. He set the bag with their dinner down on the counter. He didn't want to even pretend that he would fight. That guy and his beers needed to go.

  "Please," he said. "Take it and leave."

  Jason grabbed his backpack and shoved the beers inside.

  "Can I go with you?" Angie said.

  "I don't care," Jason said. He zipped up his backpack and held out his hand.

  "Not a good idea, Ange," Tommy said.

  "Shut up. Like you think you're my dad or something," Angie said. She got up and grabbed Jason to steady herself.

  "You're a grown-up, you can do what you like," Tommy said. He couldn't stop her, but if anything happened, he'd carry it with him forever. "I'd like for you to stay. I brought dinner."

  Jason put his arm around her. "I'm not a bad guy," he said. Angie gave a knowing smile. Everyone is your friend when you're drinking.

  "I don't want dinner," she said. They left without closing the door. He weighed the idea of going after them before deciding it was best to leave them alone.

  Tommy put one of the food containers in the refrigerator and took the other to the couch. By then, it was cool and hard to swallow, but he made himself eat.

  He was halfway through it when his phone rang. Elizabeth. An unfamiliar jolt that he identified as happiness surged through him.

  "Hey, something going on?" he said, picturing her on the phone, sweeping her hair over her shoulder, a half-smile on her face, a smile that said she had tricks that would surprise him.

  "It's Elizabeth." Her voice was warm and sexy.

  "I know. You're in my phone."

  "I may have found a car for you," she said.

  "You're looking for a car for me?" What was it about him that inspired people to help him all the time?

  A throaty chuckle floated into his ear. She would duck her head, pretending to hide her smile. "I told Linda your car died. That guy Arnie has a car you can use. A loaner. She can drive you to the rez this weekend to get it."

  "She talked to him?" Tommy said.

  "I guess. They're doing a presentation or something."

  Having a car to use would make life easier, but there was that kindness again. He couldn't escape the idea that he was everyone's special project, the guy that they all helped out of a mixture of pity and obligation.

  "That'll help. Thanks."

  "If you have a car maybe you could do a little getaway."

  She was making an invitation. He tried to picture them taking off to go camping. He would take her on the long-awaited road trip. The mountains of Montana would be perfect. "Where do you want to go?"

  "The museum in California?" she said, her voice still playful.

  He deflated on that. She wasn't inviting him to run off with her. She needed a favor.

  "I know it's crazy. I don't want to let Granny down. She's fixated on seeing this thing."

  "I wish I could," he said.

  "Linda won't let you take time off? For Aunt Dotty?"

  For a moment he considered confessing. He could tell her about Angie and everything that came with it. For once he could share the burdens that he was keeping to himself.

  "I can't. Family...work. Too many obligations."

  "I can't change your mind?" Her soft velvet voice in his ear, so full of promise.

  "You're the only one who could, but not the right time. You two figure out when you're leaving?"

  "Back on the train tomorrow.
We'll be home by dinner."

  "I can take you to the train station," Tommy said. One more chance to see her.

  "Keep thinking about that road trip. I'm going to change your mind," Elizabeth said.

  10

  Tommy woke up to a loud pounding sound and a muffled but very distraught voice. It took a minute to shake off his sleepiness and figure out what was going on. Someone was banging on his front door. A mixture of hope and dread flooded through him. Ordinarily if she were on a bender, Angie would be gone for days, but maybe regret came quickly this time.

  He pulled on a T-shirt. The knocking stopped. His phone on the nightstand sprang to life.

  Linda.

  He glanced at the time. He wasn't late. He picked up the phone.

  "What's going on?"

  "Where are you?" The words rushed out, clipped and breathless. He checked Angie's bedroom—empty—before he went to the front door.

  "I'm at home. Hang on a sec." He pulled the door open.

  There stood Linda, in sweatpants and a hoodie, hair pulled back, her face frantic. Her eyes widened, and she clutched him to her. "When they said the bus crashed I didn't know what to think."

  "The Drivemaster crashed?"

  All the air went out of him and he went weak in the knees. He turned to the kitchen counter. An open carton of Pad Thai sat there. His keys and wallet were gone. He'd gotten in the habit of taking them into his room with him, but with Angie out—for what he assumed was the night, he hadn't thought about it.

  "I got a call about forty-five minutes ago. They said the bus was abandoned at the scene. That bus is your baby. I assumed the worst." Linda gave him the kind of troubled look that people give you to apologize when they've doubted you. "It must have been stolen from campus."

  Tommy shook his head. He didn't want to tell the truth. He couldn't lie.

  "I have a situation," he said, his voice unsteady.

  "You said that yesterday when you missed the meeting." Linda was like a big sister. She had watched out for him way back when he was newly sober, staggering through the days, one at a time, all raw and uncertain. Her face was filled with concern, but her eyes were all business. There was no way he could avoid telling her.

  "My cousin's been living here so she could sober up. She has not been successful."

  "That's what you've been so mysterious about?" Linda said. She wiped a tear from her eye with a shaking hand. "What a terrible idea. Not yours, I bet."

  He gave the slightest shake of his head.

  The apartment had a balcony, narrow and dusty, big enough for two chairs. Angie sat out there sometimes, so the sagging curtain was pulled back enough to show a sliver of gray sky. Linda's eyes rested there. "Do you have coffee?"

  "No," he said, overwhelmed by a wave of self-pity.

  She nodded as if this was another in a long line of expected defeats. "How did your cousin get the bus?"

  "My car died and then got towed. I used the bus to get back and forth from work."

  The tears faded as she processed this. One hand rested on her hip, the other reached up to cover her face. When Linda was stressed, it took over her whole body. Words didn't come for either of them. He kept his eyes on the floor.

  She huffed a few times before she said, "You are infuriating. You have us. You have all three of us—we love you—you know that, right?"

  His throat had grown painfully tight and he tried unsuccessfully to clear it. He was the kind of person who could always hold everything in and at the moment he was failing. He wiped the back of one hand across his face.

  "Why don't you let us help you?" She wasn't scolding. She was hurt.

  "I'm doing fine," he said, barely croaking the words out.

  "You are a recovering alcoholic with a practicing alcoholic in your home. The bus, which is supposed to be parked on campus, sideswiped three cars before it crashed into a trash dumpster. I don't think you understand what ‘doing fine’ means." The longer she spoke, the faster and louder the words came out.

  "Is it drivable?" That's where his mind went. One last chance to see Elizabeth would be moot if he had nothing to drive.

  "I don't know. We have to go see," Linda said.

  "I can pay for it," he said, breaking out in a light sweat because there was no way he could pay for it.

  "We have insurance," Linda said. She put her hands on his shoulders. "You know what we're dealing with at the center. I can't worry about you, too. You need to figure this out. Do you have a counselor or sponsor? Someone, anyone you can talk to?"

  Tommy shrugged. "Maybe I don't want to talk."

  "You can't do this alone. You can tell me it's none of my business. It's your life. But if you want to keep working with us, you need to get it together. There are lots of resources. I can call—"

  "I'll do it myself," he said. He dreaded the idea of Linda getting involved. Calling people and sending him off to talk.

  "People care about you," Linda said. "I want—"

  "I get it," Tommy said.

  Linda threw her hands up, the sisterly demeanor gone. Boss was back. "You need to deal with the police, the insurance, all of it. I don't want this to waste any of Rayanne or Ester's time. Understood? If you can't do it, tell me now, and I can start looking for someone who can."

  The day had come and she'd finally had enough. They were having the conversation. If he was going to ask for help, now was the time, but dealing with insurance was easy compared to everything else he had to do.

  "I can do everything, don't worry." He did his best to convey confidence but his mind was reeling. He needed to find Angie, and he needed to call his uncle. He needed to figure out how he was going to get around.

  "Arnie has a car you can use. I'm going to the rez on Saturday. You can come along. Get dressed. We'll share my car today." She gave him a warm hug. "It's going to be okay."

  "I know," Tommy said, doubting that was true.

  Elizabeth finished searching the kitchen cupboards and moved to the shelves in the hallway that Linda referred to as the pantry annex. She found half-empty bags of pasta and rice stuffed into plastic bins, some with carefully printed labels, others lidless and a hopeless mess, an organizational project abandoned in the middle.

  "There's no coffee," she called.

  Granny poked through a drawer in the kitchen. "She got filters."

  "I don't know what to tell you," Elizabeth said.

  The front door opened, and Linda came in.

  "Is he okay?" Elizabeth asked. Her heart had gone cold when she heard about the bus crash.

  "He's coming in. You can ask him," Linda said, failing to hide her exasperation. "There's no more coffee. We drank it all, and I forgot to get some. I'm going to go get ready." She went back to her room and closed the door.

  Tommy did not appear. Elizabeth opened the front door. The sky was gray and the air heavy with damp cold. Linda's car sat in the driveway with Tommy in the passenger seat, hunched over, eyes squeezed shut, like a person who had given up on the idea that he wasn't a disappointment.

  "Hey!" She waited for him to look up and gave him a sunny smile.

  He took his time getting out of the car.

  "You're okay," she said, more relieved than she would have expected.

  "Depends on what you mean by okay." He pretended to laugh and held up Linda's keys. "You two ready to go?"

  "To the train station? We don't need to be there for a couple of hours." His hair was all bedhead like he was on his way home from an unexpected hook-up. He would be fun. It was a crime that they couldn't have fun. "You look like a man with a story to tell."

  "You are mistaken," he said, forcing a smile.

  "You coming in?"

  "No. I'll come back," he said. "I gotta deal with..." He puffed out his cheeks.

  "Work stuff?" she said.

  "Exactly." He didn't leave, though. He stood in the driveway, hands limp at his sides.

  "Granny needs coffee. We drank all of Linda's. Do you have time?"
>
  Something sparked awake in him and his shoulders relaxed. "Not really."

  "For Granny? She likes her doughnut and latte."

  Tommy took his time like he couldn't make up his mind.

  "She'll pay," Elizabeth mouthed.

  Tommy smiled briefly and gestured to the car with his head. "Good, because I don't have a wallet. Don't ask."

  "You're driving without a license? How rez."

  "I have a license," he said. "Not on me."

  "Never heard that one before," she said, her grin widening. She went to tell Granny what they were up to and ran back out before she could ask to come along.

  "She's going to wait here," Elizabeth said when she got in the car.

  "We're going to a fancy shop," he said as he pulled out. "Not a chain."

  "Are you a doughnut expert?" she asked.

  "I wouldn't say that," he said. "Are you? Is there a doughnut hot spot on the rez?"

  "No." She studied him while he drove. He wasn't a big guy, but he had broad shoulders. His clothes looked like they'd been plucked from the dryer and balled up in the laundry basket until this morning when he put them on. But what would you expect from a guy who woke to the news that his bus had been driven into a dumpster?

  The hangdog stoop was gone now that they were in motion, some confidence returning now that he was at the wheel. He waited for a trio of bicycles to pass before he made a right turn onto a busy street, a blur of storefronts and fast food. A few raindrops splashed against the windshield and he fiddled with the levers until he found the wipers.

  "Where do you get Granny her doughnuts?" he asked.

  "She likes those old-fashioned ones you get at the grocery store. It's like a sugar bomb glazed with more sugar. They're not good for her, but at her age, she should get what she wants."

  "This place has the blueberry jam with lime curd and crusted salted caramel kind of doughnuts," he said.

  "For real?"

  "They're good. Granny won't complain. I have a way with elders." That smile again. If she were standing, she'd be weak in the knees. Tommy turned onto a two-lane street. "Here's the tricky part, parking." He slowed down and pointed to a shop with a line out the door.