Next I find an article listing all of the Major League Soccer salaries by player for the year. It feels wrong wanting to see his income, but it’s public information, so I let myself indulge. When I come upon his name, a lump clogs my throat. I assumed he would make the league minimum or somewhere near that, but that’s not the case at all. While he’s not the highest paid player on the team, he’s making well above league minimum. In fact, he’s making about five times above it.
He’s doing exactly what he should be.
~Past~
I was packing up my belongings at the end of my freshman year of college, getting ready to go home. My dad was going to be here in about an hour and I needed to make sure I was ready. Mara, my roommate, had left earlier that morning and I was alone.
The space felt so empty.
Stacking the last article of clothing in the laundry basket as I went through my to-do list, I was startled when my phone rang. My dad must be early. I urgently tossed my shoes into my bag and picked up the phone.
“You’re here?” I asked, scattered.
“No,” the voice said through a laugh. I pulled the phone away from my ear, checking the number. It wasn’t my dad. It was from an unknown caller with an area code I didn’t recognize. I didn’t even pay attention before. “Ruby?” His voice echoed out of the speaker.
Bringing the phone back to my ear, I questioned, “Brent?”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “It’s me.”
“Sorry, I didn’t recognize the number.”
“Oh, I’m calling from the hotel, not my cell.”
“That makes sense.” I cleared my throat. “So how did it go?”
“The combine was rough. You remember me telling you about it?”
“Yeah, you mentioned it,” I said, recalling an earlier conversation from last week. “So how did the showcase go? Are you finished?”
“We finished yesterday.” There was a long pause. “And I was approached with a contract.”
“Brent, that’s so great,” I said, hoping to hide the emotions in my voice as a tear escaped. This was just what I had wished for him. “I’m really happy for you.”
“Yeah, but,” he muttered shakily into the phone. “It’s with Sweden.”
“Sweden?” I asked, confused. “As in Europe?”
“Yeah,” he stated. “In Europe.”
“Oh.” Gasps and sobs were beginning to form. Swallowing down hard, I shoved away my own needs. This was about him. He needed this. “That’s wonderful, Brent.”
“Ruby?”
I sniffed and wiped the corner of my eye. “So when do you leave?”
Silence.
“I’m not sure,” he uttered quietly. “I may not go at all.”
“No. Don’t be stupid,” I quickly retorted. “You want this. You need to go.”
“But what about—”
“Brent, you need to go. It’s an amazing opportunity. Don’t you even think twice about not going.”
“I know, but I feel bad. I wasn’t even thinking I’d get this far.”
“But you did and it’s amazing.” I pushed every selfish feeling away. I knew I’d miss him like crazy, but we were in a really bad and possibly irreparable place. We were drowning in ourselves, choking on everything we were. “You need to go. When do you leave?”
“They want me to go tomorrow. The season is already in progress.”
“So, you’ll be leaving straight from California?”
“That’s the plan, but I can ask to leave later. Maybe see you before I go.”
“Brent…”
~Present~
My phone dings with a new text and I blink back the pricking tears. I pick it up to read the message. It’s from Cody.
Got your email. I’ll be around if you want to call.
I set the phone down and close my laptop. Getting up off of the bed, I pace a little around the room. My sudden angst is a reminder of why I haven’t allowed myself to indulge in anything to do with Brent or our past. Even now, years later, it still affects me in ways I wish it wouldn’t. It’s not as though I haven’t dealt with him leaving or what happened, because I have. God, have I ever. We were ripped apart and maybe that’s a feeling you never forget, regardless of how many times you’ve said goodbye or made peace with it. Or even regardless of how much time has passed. It’s a sadness that can suck you in if you let it and I refuse to allow that to happen now.
Unable to eat any more breakfast, I take my bowl to the sink, get a glass of water and drink it while looking out into the courtyard below. The leaves have changed color and many of them have already fallen from the trees.
Finishing my water, I set my glass on the counter and pick up my phone to call Cody. I take a seat on the edge of my bed and enter his number, waiting for him to pick up.
“Ah, so nice of you to call,” Cody teases.
“Hey, I’ve been busy. I told you I was sorry. What can I say? I suck.”
“Yeah, you kind of do.” He laughs. “So how are you?”
“Good. Same old, same old. School and work. How about you?”
“The usual. Shows and clients. The shop’s been getting really busy lately with new work. I may need to take on another employee.”
A few years ago, Cody moved up to Milwaukee to work in a garage that specializes in custom auto and motorcycle jobs. He now manages the shop and will likely take it over completely in a few years. The current owner also happens to be his father-in-law. Cody married his daughter, Shauna, last year and they’re expecting a baby in January.
“Oh, is Shauna not helping out anymore?”
“She is, but I don’t need another admin. I need someone else in the shop. You wouldn’t happen to know a good welder, would you?”
“Yes Cody, I hang out with a ton of welders,” I tell him sarcastically. “The city is packed with them.”
“Smartass. Speaking of the city, who’d you run into yesterday? You told me to ask.”
“You’re never gonna believe it.” I wait, but he says nothing. “Brent.”
There’s a huge pause.
“Brent. As in Brent Cromwell?”
“Yeah,” I half laugh. “Apparently, he’s stateside again and living in L.A., playing with a team out there. He came into the restaurant last night. I guess they play Chicago on Sunday. I mean tomorrow.”
“Are you okay?” he hedges.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It was just weird seeing him. I wasn’t expecting it.”
“You know, I’m still kind of pissed at him.”
“Cody,” I huff. “You need to let it go. It was a long time ago and a bad time for both of us.”
“No shit. But he shouldn’t have left the country like that.”
“I told you. I made him go. School was a mess for him and so was I. Somebody needed something good to happen to them. It was good for him. He’s done really well.”
“I could give a shit about that or him. I saw how you were. He did that.”
“Drop it, Cody. He didn’t do it. You know it.” Sighing loudly, I open and close my hands, working out the building tension. It’s like we are rehashing the past for no reason. “Can we talk about something else? How’s Shauna doing? You guys pick out names yet?”
I can hear him seething through the phone. The heaving sounds begin to dwindle over the course of the next ten seconds.
He finally calms and responds, “I think so. We have it narrowed down to two, but we aren’t telling anyone. Her dad seems to think we should name our daughter Harriet, after his mother, so we’re keeping our choices a secret.”
“I get that. Oh, and thanks again for the bracelet,” I say referring to my birthday gift. They sent a metal cuff with a quote from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream stamped on it. “Did Shauna make it?”
“I made the cuff and she stamped in the words.”
“It’s really cool. You guys should sell them at the shop.”
“We do cars not jewelry,” he condones. “I’m not cater
ing to chicks.”
“Fine, but I’m just saying it might be a good side thing for all the guys who come in and have girlfriends and wives.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…no.”
I laugh. “Stubborn as always.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“Must be a family thing. I hope your daughter gives you hell.”
“I’m sure she will.” He chuckles. “Man, I’m going to be in so much trouble. Me with a daughter.”
“You deserve a little payback for all the shit you give me.”
“Ah, fuck you,” he laughs. “I’ll be sure to give you an extra helping of it when we see you at Thanksgiving.”
“Great,” I drawl. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Good.” I can visualize him smiling. “So nothing else? You sure you’re good?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. All good.”
“Well, feel free to call if you need anything.” He sighs. “We aren’t that far away.”
“Yeah, I know.” I rub my knee, fidgeting. “And thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for calling. Talk to you soon.”
“Later.”
Ending the call, I place the phone on the bed next to my laptop. I blow a piece of hair from my brow and walk back to the window.
Hypnotized by the swaying fight of leaves and breeze, I slide the ruby pendant back and forth along its chain.
Six
It’s almost nine in the evening, the last table in my section has been sat and the restaurant closes in about an hour. I take my party of six’s orders, enter them into the computer and then make my way to the bar to pick up their drinks. After checking on my tables one last time, I go into the kitchen to see if they need any help pushing out the food.
Leaving the noise of the dining room and entering the white-tiled room with chrome shelving everywhere, I make my way to the pass and stand next to Astrid.
“Table 14 in the window,” Jared calls.
Astrid arranges the plates on the tray and then takes them out into the dining room.
“86 Lobster Ravioli,” Brian shouts.
I turn my attention to the white board, listing the night’s specials, as Colin crosses out the ravioli, letting the staff know about the change. He sets down the marker and turns to meet the hustling employees.
“Ruby,” he says, pulling his clipboard out from under his arm. Taking my time, wiping my hands on the front of my apron, I come up next to him.
“What’s up?”
“I just looked over the night’s reservations and waitlist, and it looks like you get to go home early.”
“Really?”
“Yep, I’m cutting you. You’re the first to go, just like I promised. I already let the host stand know.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” He tucks the clipboard back under his arm and makes his way to the beverage station.
“Table 16 in the window,” Jared says.
“I got it,” I call back. Picking up a tray, I set it on the stand and start moving over the plates for the four top.
“So, you’re getting out of here?” Brian asks as he plates an entree salad. “Got any big plans for the night?”
“Nope. I’m just going to go home, put on my pajamas and spend the night with a movie and Ben & Jerry’s.”
“Sounds like a big night,” he kids.
“Oh yeah. I know how to party with the big boys.” I move the last plate to the tray. “Sorry again about last night.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He wipes his hands on his apron and then smiles. “Maybe we can do it some other time? Like on a night when we both have off?”
He’s asking me on a real date. Given where my mind has been in the past twenty-four hours, I’m not sure what I should say. I like Brian. He’s sweet, cute, and charming, of course. That hasn’t changed, but my excitement about him has.
Reminding myself he’s just asking me out, not my hand in marriage, I scold myself for overthinking it. It’s just a date. It’s what people do.
“Yeah,” I reply, propping the tray on my shoulder. “Maybe we can.”
“Great,” he says cheerfully. Setting a plate on the chrome shelf, he adds, “It’ll be fun.”
“I’m sure it will be,” I playfully giggle.
Spinning on my heel, I make my way to the dining room’s entrance, passing Astrid at the threshold.
“Oh Ruby!” she exclaims. “I was just coming to find you. Pat says he needs to see you at the bar.”
“All right. Let me take out this table’s food first.”
I serve the table their food, stash away the tray, and then check on my tables to make sure their appetizers were delivered and everything is satisfactory. Seeing that they’re happy, I make my way to the bar, which is quiet for this time of night. Sidling up to the end of the long piece of granite, I smile in Pat’s direction, waiting for him to finish wiping off an area where two customers just left. He folds the rag, sets it on the shelf below and then meets me at the end of the bar.
“Hey, Pat. Astrid said you needed something. What’s up?”
“Well,” he leans forward, crossing his arms in front of him and setting his elbows on the bar. There’s an inquisitive look in his eye. “There’s somebody here to see ya.”
“Oh yeah?” My heart thumps in my chest. I do have regulars, but they don’t come to the bar.
“That footy guy from last night came back. Says you’re an old friend of his.”
I begin to shake internally and blink a few times. I know who’s here.
“Where is he?” I ask, glancing down the nearly empty bar.
Pat gestures to the row of booths on the other side of the small room. I rotate around and find myself face-to-face with Brent, sitting almost directly across from where I’m standing.
“Thanks,” I utter to Pat.
“You want to pick up his table?”
“Sure,” I reply automatically. “I can take care of him.”
Pat straightens and moves back down the bar, leaving me alone with the man who continues to race through my conscious and subconsciousness. Taking one step in front of the other, my hand comes up to the space just above my heart, feeling the ruby pendant hidden beneath my blue blouse. I never took it off.
Reaching the end of his table, I stop, observing everything Brent. He’s dressed more casually than last night in a collared navy shirt with the top button undone. The sleeves are rolled twice on both arms, exposing his toned forearms and silver watch. His hair is groomed to one side. My mouth tugs, noticing that some of the dark strands are curling up around his ears. I always did like that.
“Hi,” I say with interest. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”
He rubs his chin. “Why not?”
“I don’t know,” I nervously laugh. “It sounded like you had a full schedule and well...how did you know I was working tonight?”
Clasping his hands together, Brent beams, smiling directly at me. “I didn’t. I just thought, maybe.”
“Oh.” I pull my lips into my mouth. Noticing the empty table, I ask, “Is anyone here with you?”
“No. Just me.”
“What about Johan?”
“He went out for dinner with some guys from the team.”
“You didn’t want to go?”
“Something like that,” he replies in an even tone.
I nod, filling the silence with a gesture rather than words. We look at one another for more than a few uncomfortable seconds. The silence stretches forever, or at least it feels that way. What is there to say?
“Can I get you a drink?” I ask, breaking the ice.
“Sure.” Brent leans back against the black cushioned seat to get a better view of the bar behind me. “Guinness.”
“Anything else?”
“No, that should do it.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
I return to the bar and put in the order. While Brent’s beer is pouring, which is a pro
cess, I check on my tables again. Clearing one of the table’s plates, I head back into the kitchen to check on the status of their entrees.
Getting a glass of water, I drink it to keep my adrenaline level even. Seeing Brent again tonight wasn’t as shocking as the first time, but I’m trying to keep my mind, body, and feelings, my old feelings, in check.
“So who’s the guy?” Astrid asks, getting a drink of her own.
“What guy?”
“The one at the bar in the booth? You know him, right?”
“Yeah. We went to high school together.”
“He’s pretty cute.” She opens up one of her bill folders, shuffling through the contents. “An old boyfriend?”
“Yeah, he’s that too.”
“Hmmm. I figured.”
“What does that mean?” I ask defensively.
“Just the way he looked at you.” She takes another drink. “And the way you look right now.”
“And how do I look?”
“Like you’re not here. You had the same look last night, too.”
Well, she hit that nail on the head.
“I just haven’t seen him in a while,” I explain, hoping to justify anything she may be gleaning from my recent behavior. “He was here last night, too. We kind of ended badly and went separate ways. It was a long time ago, though.”
“I get that.” She nods. “Been there and done it. Twice. Take my advice and don’t look back. It never works out. Trust me. I did the relationship backpedal only to find out that what’s comfortable means that nothing has changed.”
“I’m not getting back together with him,” I retort at the preposterous notion. “He doesn’t even live here. He’s only in town for a few days on business.”
“Mhmm.”
“Table 35 in the window,” Jared shouts.
“I got it,” I call back, racking my glass with the rest of the dirty dishes. “That’s my table,” I say to Astrid as she continues to go through her customers’ bills.
Going right to work, I put together my table’s entrees on the tray and don’t give any stock to what Astrid has just said. What happened to her doesn’t apply to me at all. Brent and I are over and have thousands of miles to keep us that way. We put them there.
Forgotten Yesterday Page 4
