“Yeah, oh shit,” she repeated. "What did you expect?"
Oh damn! What do I do with all this?
"I don't uh . . . I didn't expect anything," I answered honestly. "He's only been in the pros a few days and we went for hot chocolate but then had coffee, and well, cappuccinos, but—"
"Shut up! God! Of course you meet him and he likes you." She sounded disgusted. "You're a fuckin' witch."
I felt as if I couldn't say anything without her coming unglued.
"No, it was—"
"Did you tell him you don't put out? That ought to make him run for the hills," she hissed. "What will Jerry think?”
“I don’t care what he thinks, Coll.” I could almost feel her finger reaching through the phone, pointed at me in judgment. She'd thrown me a sharp insult because I'd made a decision with sex and my spiritual values. I wanted to tell her off, then pour my heart out and tell her what had happened because of my hang-ups. I had to stay calm. I knew this could be a point of no return for us.
“Well . . .” she sounded confused and a little lost.
“I’ll fill you in more often. Jerry and I . . . we're not going anywhere with a relationship and that's all right. I've settled with it. However, I promise to try and be a better friend. Please don’t be mad. You know, you’re going to a pretty phenomenal college yourself—UCLA!”
“I know, but . . .” her voice trailed off. “You don’t like Jerry anymore?”
“It’s not that,” I tried to comfort her. “I like him.”
“You two sure looked cozy at our beach party, all tucked in together in his sleeping bag. Well, before the rangers came and broke up our party. In fact, Jerry told Mark that you guys had another hot date last week.”
“God those guys, Colleen. What gossips they are.”
“I know!” she giggled.
Phew, back to normal.
“We did have a great time.” I told her all the juicy details girlfriends love to hear. When it came to boys, she could let down her guard.
Apparently, you can, too.
“Anyway," she exhaled and I knew her anger had subsided. "I was hoping to get to the ballpark a little early so we can practice some routines. Can you make it?”
“Sure, what time?”
“How about four?”
“Okay, four. See you there, Coll.”
After we hung up, I looked through my Facebook page in more detail. I immediately accepted the friend requests from Ethan's family, but decided to wait on his friends until I spoke with him.
A nervous energy suddenly grabbed me.
I got restless.
Whenever I had those feelings, I straightened my room, organized my paperwork, took a walk, went on a bike ride, or edited some of the stories and essays I’d written.
I might as well mix up my closet again. No need to divide it any longer. I sure don't need fancy stuff for social events.
I put away some of my clothes, threw other pieces in the laundry hamper, and mixed together the outfits I’d previously set aside for outings with Ryan.
I was sure his brown, suede jacket was talking to me. Previously, it had marked the division of my two wardrobes: formal and casual. Now, it seemed to scream, "Do something. Get this jacket back to Ryan or talk with him."
It's awful that I'll be returning it to him because of our failed relationship. His original gesture of leaving it with me was so thoughtful.
My arm rose slowly and purposefully, almost resisting what I knew I had to do. I took his jacket off the hanger, squeezed the furry collar, ran my hands up and down the part that covered his chest and put it on. I reached for the emerald necklace he’d so thoughtfully bought for me during our last evening together—the night everything fell apart.
“I’ve been thinking about something since last year to show you how much I appreciate you,” Ryan had said.
Fastening the necklace around my neck one last time, I held the emerald that hung off of the gold omega chain in one hand and with the other, stroked the soft suede material of his jacket.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
I told Ryan I’d leave both items at the front door.
As I felt them and enjoyed the scent of his cologne, relished our memory at Sammy's and the first night I'd spent with him in my room, I decided it wouldn’t be right to carelessly leave them outside.
Although he’d thrown me away, I didn’t want to do the same with the things that were once sweet to me. His intentions were innocent at the time—at least that’s what I chose to believe—and I needed to hold those in my heart. So until I knew when he wanted to pick them up, I kept both items in my bedroom.
I’d gotten lost in my daydreams and was the last of my teammates to arrive at the ballpark for our early practice. Colleen was flirting with Sy Deej, Marilyn chatted with Lorraine about a recent date, and Kathie and Patty discussed their upcoming family vacations.
Manny, the security guard, opened the gate and let us in.
“Hi, ladies. Before you start practice, the team has something for you. I’m supposed to escort you inside.”
“Come on, Nicky!” Colleen's eyes filled with excitement.
“You guys go on ahead. I’ve already been through those tunnels. Once is enough.” I shuddered as I remembered meeting Ryan in them after I’d sung the national anthem.
“Are you sure?” Colleen asked.
I nodded, making a quick decision not to go. Getting an invitation to the clubhouse meant we’d impressed management and the players. The anxiety I imagined when having to face Ryan in the clubhouse caused me to decline. I wasn't ready to see or talk to him. It only took a few minutes to realize I'd been shortsighted.
“I’m sure,” I reconfirmed.
As my teammates started in, I stood at the gate and waited for James. Instead, Manny returned.
“Where’s James?”
“On his way. The players have a certificate of appreciation for your team. Hard to believe you'd pass up that kind of opportunity. Don’t you want to be a part of that?”
“I don’t know.”
“I can wait a minute while you decide,” he offered.
“No, I'll wait here.” I felt dejected.
“Okay Ms. Young, your choice. You might as well come in. No sense standing outside.” He turned away and walked through the door and into the tunnels.
I went into the stadium, and climbed the steps to the bleachers. Ryan was already on the field.
Why didn’t I go into the clubhouse? I should have known he wouldn't want to see me. Dumbass! I declined for nothing, once again letting my anxiety take me over. Great job, Nick.
Focused on shagging balls, Ryan never turned my way—until he saw Ethan jogging into the outfield.
Chapter 9
Observations
Did those blue-diamond eyes of the man who continued to hold my thumping heart in his hands, doubt Ethan's intentions? Was he stunned to find out the woman he’d withdrawn from had made a new friend and wasn't pining for him, locked away in her bedroom?
“How ya doin’?” Ethan tucked his batting glove into his back pocket and stuffed a wad of bubble gum in his mouth.
“Great! Did you get to nap before your practice?” I giggled.
“No, but my workout woke me up,” he wiped the sweat off of his forehead. "Course all the yellin' from the coaches jolted me awake, too. Believe me, I’m not sleepy anymore.”
“Just in time for your game, huh?” I twirled a strand of my hair.
“Yep, just in time," he repeated. "I had to tell ya again how great breakfast was. Your company is mighty fine.”
“I feel the same,” I adjusted my jersey. “And now you know where to eat on this side of the bay.”
"Plus a new friend to pal around with," he winked. “You look different in your cheer uniform.”
“Um . . . thanks?”
“Sorry, that sounded . . . I didn’t mean bad,” he laughed. “It’s just, ya know, you meet someone and they’re in y
our head the way you first saw them forever?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Like relatives you don’t see for a long time.”
"Exactly.” He looked around the bleacher area. “Where’s the rest of your team?”
“They’re getting an award.” A hint of disgust was sprinkled through my response.
“What about your award?” He folded his arms.
“I’m fine.”
“Oh, okay,” he chided. “So you don’t wanna be recognized, even though you created somethin' that put you in front of thousands of people?”
“Not today.” I would have loved to go in the clubhouse. I blew it.
“You’re kind of hard not to recognize,” he grinned.
What?
“What do you mean?” I needed clarification.
"Your radiance. It's just . . ." He pointed to his eyes. "The natural glow you have is what gave me the nerve ta ask you out for coffee in the first place. That look tells a person you're a kind woman and open to new friendships.”
I look open? I don’t feel that way. Does he see something I can’t, or . . . won't?
“Thanks, Ethan. Sometimes I wonder if I'm too intense. That can be a turn off for people, not to mention I don’t know when to stop talking. Even though I can talk, I’m a good listener. You wouldn’t know it, well, yeah, you might since you did a lot of the talking last night, but . . .”
“I appreciate you carryin' a conversation, Nicky. Most of the time I sit and fidget. I don't know what to say.”
“Well, maybe you drew something out of me,” I noted.
“Hope so,” he grinned. “See ya later. Catch ya next time we're in town!”
“Adios!” I waved and then put my headphones on.
Ryan, who seemed to notice Ethan talking to me, watched as my new friend jogged back toward his team’s dugout.
"What do you care?" I said aloud but meant it only for myself.
What did you expect me to do? Swoon for you all day and night? I’m not going to curl up and die. Oh, but I’d love to say hello. I’m so damn confused.
I was aware of my conflicted feelings and wondered if Ryan had the same struggle.
We’d pushed each other away, but was that what we wanted?
Was our connection really over?
As I thought back to Half Moon Bay and the warmth I had felt being with him, I remembered thinking how similar we were. It was as if we were children drawn together, finding our way, wanting to be loved but not sure how to get there.
Jenise had told me I needed to guide Ryan. How was that possible when I didn’t know what direction I wanted for myself?
Each of us had floundered as we tried to understand how to bring someone special into our lives.
We needed to throw away our clichés and fears.
Could we?
Just as I wanted out from my family's shadows, was Ryan trying to break through the walls he’d built around himself after his father died? The day his father was killed fighting in the Middle East, Ryan’s life changed forever. His heart—a little boy’s heart—was injured. He’d confessed to me that not only was he in pain, he'd also lost the remainder of his childhood. He was thrust into an adult world and become abandoned and lost. His heart had closed, protecting and helping him to survive.
I'd done the same things he had. Rather than burying myself in meaningless physical relationships, I stayed busy volunteering and working on school committees. We'd both avoided confronting our feelings, instead sweeping them away in denial.
The thing about abandonment issues—that sense someone will always leave us—is that it lingers.
Being left behind seems to happen at the worse possible times in our lives.
Fear gives in to every insecure moment.
Self-doubting births our fears—it’s a vicious circle.
Even though we know in our logical minds that we have valid reasons for some of our insecurities, we have trouble sorting through them.
Our bodies still suffer from the numbness and shock of too many traumas and broken promises.
It can take us years to learn how to open to life.
It takes us years to trust another person.
It takes us years to believe that we’re worthy of being loved.
I ran away from Ryan, who’d promised love, friendship, and the possibility of something different and something wonderful. The promises he'd made to keep me safe and not leave me—these were the very promises made by my father and mother.
Year after year I heard them.
Especially during a bad stretch of Dad's drinking, those promises broke apart.
Neither of my parents heard me.
I knew when Mom went to work she really didn’t regret leaving her children. There was nothing wrong with her working; I had set my sights on a career as well. It was that she enjoyed her escape from her alcoholic husband at the expense of her kids. She was getting much time needed away from Dad while she gambled with her daughters’ well being, leaving them to handle the things she should have.
We were left alone with our father, a man who took us to the bar and drank until he was incapable of driving. Even so, without blinking an eye, he'd head home, Jenise and I in his truck. It wasn’t only Mom that gambled with us, but she was the one who was sober and should have understood differently.
Sometimes, Dad couldn’t even get out of his truck after we got home; he'd pass out behind the wheel right after turning off the engine or in the driveway.
Eventually, Mom had no choice.
She knew she had to either quit her job or change her shift so her daughters weren’t home alone with her husband—a man who couldn't be trusted.
It took too many years for her to make that change.
In the meantime, the same pattern continued.
My parents were so intent on escaping each other; they willingly abandoned their children. We were desperate to be held and loved. We simply were not ‘seen.’ The magnitude of this was too much for me to fully grasp, even at eighteen.
I let that knowledge steam, boil, and churn for many years.
Could I really change my future and live differently from the generations of men and women in my family who had come before me?
Was I destined to become just another distant relative that cousins and grandchildren discussed, who had been too afraid to step away from her own shadows?
My parents made choices that were subtle and perhaps unintentional. They didn’t understand the consequences—how discarded and unloved Jenise and I felt.
Ultimately these taught me that I’d be abandoned for multiple reasons: because of someone's work, their addiction, their denial, and their inability to cope with life.
Every time I thought I was whole, something triggered my shattering self-doubt.
Would anyone ever care enough to love me?
How could I believe anyone’s assurances when my own parents didn't keep us safe?
Did they ever really love us?
Did Ryan ever love me?
I frightened Ryan and Ryan frightened me.
Was my love real for him? Or was I clinging to a man I saw as a distraction from home and a way out?
We were searching to break free of our abandonment issues, grasping blindly and stumbling along in our maze.
We didn’t know how to let go of the fear.
Desperate to find security, love, togetherness, what it meant to be someone’s woman or man and finally learn how to gain the trust of another—these were the things we wanted in our lives.
Nothing comes without trust.
I knew as long as I held onto my fears, I'd never learn how to trust anyone—most importantly, myself.
I couldn't shake the feeling of the next bad thing ready to strike me.
Children of alcoholics know and believe this truth with every shred of our being. The only time we feel safe is when we’re alone and in control—at least, our perception of control.
Now that concept?
I
trusted.
Chapter 10
A Shake-up
Not long after Ethan headed across the field, my teammates returned.
“Can you believe it?” Colleen shouted. “Nicky, you should’ve been there!"
“Let me see!" I feigned happiness. "Where's the plaque?"
"With James." She turned her back on me.
It was as if I wasn't standing among them. They had immersed themselves in some new club. Their enthusiasm was meant for members only. I regretted my decision not to go with them more than ever. Because of my choice, I’d separated and isolated myself from their joy.
An invisible line had been drawn between us.
A circle of five, closed.
Without me.
Wearing my ‘mask of pretend,’ I played the part of being strong, standing just outside the conversation, acting as if I was included, but knowing that I was not.
As my teammates were talking to each other, Matt and Darrell walked out of the tunnel and stood by my side. Matt told me that Tara wasn’t feeling well and had gone to the doctor for some tests.
“What kind of tests?” A pang of worry beat from my heart.
“Pain in her abdomen,” he said quietly. “I’d appreciate it if you could stay with her while I’m gone. Her mom’s coming but she can’t make it out here until next week.”
“You don’t have to ask twice," I put my hand on his arm. "I’d do anything for your sweet wife.”
“Thanks, Nick. You’ve been a good friend to her—to us.”
“Kevin said you didn’t come in the clubhouse with the rest of the team,” Darrell remarked. "How come?"
“You guys weren’t there?” I questioned.
“The pitchers were in a meeting,” Matt answered.
“I didn't go because I get claustrophobic in those tunnels.” Again, I found myself in the world of half and half, some of it the truth and some of it a stretch of that same truth, bordering on a lie. “When I went through the tunnel after I sang the National Anthem, I freaked out. I don’t want to go in there again.”
“I didn’t know that,” Darrell said and then threw a ball to a little girl. “We gave you guys a plaque of appreciation and we all signed it. When you leave today, pick it up from James.”
Jagged Heart (Broken Bottles Series Book 3) Page 7
