But my selfish mind was firmly planted in the fact that the life I had worked so hard for would be upended if we kept moving forward. My scholarship. My degree. My career. My future.
And I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel on everything I had accomplished.
Which brings me to now, sitting on the bench at the practice field, staring at the screen reflecting my call to Thomas. It took less than a minute.
Less than a minute to call him and tell him I had decided to say yes to the date.
Less than a minute to schedule something for Friday night.
Less than a minute to know I had made a horrible decision.
But the horrible decision is still the right one. Or at least, that’s what I will need to remind myself. Over and over.
And over.
Chapter Twelve
I love my job as a Stocking Clerk at Candy’s Crafts, a boutique shop on the main drag in Glendale. Sure, the name of the shop is horrible and the work I do isn’t particularly important, but Candy is one of the nicest people I know.
Plus she lets me work whenever I have the time instead of scheduling shifts, so as long as I can put in around fifteen hours over a two-week period, she could care less if I was working in the middle of the night, which is perfect for my hectic schedule.
“How’s the season going?”
The question takes me by surprise, mostly because I thought I was the only one here. The storefront closes at 5pm, so I assumed I would be working alone when I entered through the back door at 7pm.
“Hey, CC.”
I try to infuse some brightness into my voice as I take an inventory of the scrapbook stickers we have sorted in the back, but my happiness sounds strained. Mechanical almost.
“Things are good. Just busy. The usual.”
She plops down at her desk, which sits in the corner of the warehouse-style back room, and begins shuffling through paperwork. Her wild blond curls bouncing all over the place as she shakes her head slightly.
“That wasn’t very convincing,” she replies, glancing at me over the rim of her glasses. “Try again.”
I mentally groan. CC has been a sort of mother-figure for me over the past few years. I’ve been working for her since the middle of freshman year when I realized that my scholarships covered school and housing, but not other important things like food, books, money to buy tampons, etc. She took a really quick interest in my life.
She comes to some of my soccer matches and we try to get coffee every few weeks. She’s in her mid-thirties and single, and lies through her teeth every time she says she isn’t interested in settling down or having kids. I know she wants them, and her interest in me has become a way for her to express some of her innate nurturing personality.
A big part of that personality is being able to read people like the top letter of an eye exam chart. I should have known she would be able to sniff out my faux-cheeriness.
I huff out a breath.
“I just have a lot on my mind. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.” I grab a box cutter and turn back to the boxes in front of me, prepping them to be unpacked and sorted.
CC laughs behind me.
“It’s been quite some time since you’ve snipped back at me. Whatever it is, I hope you figure it out soon.”
We both work in silence for a while. I know she’s waiting for me to spill, but what am I supposed to say?
Oh I’m just having an emotional affair with my coach and he might get fired so I’ve accepted a date with a player on the men’s team that likes me even though I don’t like him. On top of that, I’m pretty sure my psychology grade is beyond saving, which could mean I lose my scholarship, and my brother and I are in a fight for the first time in years. Same old stuff. No big deal.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” she says softly from behind me.
I jerk back from the cardboard boxes and see that I’ve gone a little Jack-the-Ripper on them. Sliding the box cutter blade back into the plastic, I place it on the workbench next to me and take a seat. CC takes a seat next to me without saying anything. After a few minutes I turn and catch her eye.
“Have you ever intentionally hurt someone to do the right thing?”
She raises her eyebrows.
“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, honey.”
“Well, there’s this guy…”
“Isn’t there always?”
We share a small laugh, and my chest feels lighter. Talking to CC almost always does that. I take a breath and launch right in.
“Well, this guy… we technically can’t date, because he works for the college. But we’ve been… flirting, I guess, with the boundaries of what we can do. And now his job is in jeopardy and I can’t let him get fired over me when he has worked so hard to get his life to a good place. But honestly, I also don’t want to have to deal with the consequences in my own life if we’re caught. So I accepted a date with another guy. And I feel terrible about it. Like, really, horribly awful.”
CC leans back against the wall and crosses her arms over her chest.
“That’s quite the predicament you’re in.” I nod. “Did you ever think about just talking to the guy and explaining that you have to take a break until you can date? More often than not, communicating is the best way to work through a problem.”
“But I heard him say he would give up his job for me!” My voice comes out high-pitched, incredulous.
“Why is that so shocking to you?”
I pause.
“What?”
“Why is it shocking to you that he would give up a job that is going to get in the way of you being together?”
I prop my leg up on the bench so it’s resting between us, turning to look straight at her.
“It’s not that it’s shocking. It’s that we are in completely different places if he is willing to leave his job when I don’t even really know how I feel. We still barely know each other. It’s been like, ten days since we met. Isn’t that really fast?”
“It is fast, but sometimes you meet someone and feel a connection immediately. And it’s okay to be in different places. That’s usually how relationships progress. One person feels ready to take a step forward, and they reach out their hand to the other person in the relationship. You only move forward as a couple if the other person takes the hand and steps forward too.”
“But I don’t want him to ruin his life for me.”
“But you’re assuming that him quitting his job would be ruining his life. What if, in his mind, not being with you would ruin his life? And the job is just a job?”
I shake my head. That’s not what’s happening. But before I can verbalize that to CC, she begins again, her words soft and loving.
“You have to get it out of your head that you’re worthless, RJ. You’re anything but, and it sounds like this guy knows that.”
I sit frozen with my mouth slightly open, unsure of how to respond. Worthless? It’s been a long time since I’ve used that word to describe myself, but is that what I’m subconsciously assuming now? That I’m worthless?
I can feel that single statement, that single word, weaving around me like ivy and suddenly I feel like I have to get out of here. I’m not talking about this.
I stand abruptly, startling CC as my clipboard and paperwork falls to the floor.
“I have to go. I forgot I have some stuff to do.”
I race to my bag that’s thrown on one of the shelves. I’m nanoseconds away from opening the door and getting out of this situation when CC’s hand closes over mine. I can’t help but look up at her face, even though I’m showing her the handful of tears that are pooling in my eyes.
Her eyes are warm, but tinged with just a small amount of concern.
“I’m sorry for pushing, but you need to know that you are loved, RJ. Not just a nice person people can get along with. Not just someone that might be lovable one day. But loved, right now, b
y many, many people. And it sounds like this young man can also see all of the wonderful things that make you, you. I would hate to see you push someone away because you don’t feel worthy. You are not worthless, no matter what that shit of a father made you feel.”
I exhale quickly at her words, my shoulder dropping slightly as the beginning of an anxiety attack grips at my chest. It feels like all of the air has been compressed out of my lungs and a buzzing fills my ears.
I’ve never talked to CC about my dad. Ever. And yet, somehow, she’s gleaned from our interactions that my relationship with him is toxic. My mind is racing with a thousand thoughts, but only one crystalizes.
I can’t do this right now.
“I can’t do this right now,” I whisper.
She just nods and I turn the handle and walk out the door.
* * * * *
On Wednesday, I trudge through a rough morning conditioning, eat an early lunch with some teammates, and stare out the window through my entire Foundations of Learning and Teaching course.
By the time the afternoon scrimmage rolls around, I’ve decided I should just talk to Mack about what I overheard in his office. I’ve actively avoided thinking about CC’s parting words to me, but I do agree that communicating with Mack is the best way for us to figure things out.
If I don’t allow him to be a part of figuring out the solution to our problem, I’m eliminating his ability to be an active participant in the future of our relationship.
“Do you have time to chat after practice?” My voice is hushed as I stand next to Mack on the edge of the practice field. “It’s important.”
He’s silent for a beat too long and I glance over. His brows are furrowed.
“Sure. I’ll always make time for you, RJ.”
My smile is uneasy, but I nod and quickly turn to jog out to center field to begin the scrimmage.
I don’t like that my words put that expression on his face. He looked worried. I mean, I guess he has a reason to be worried. His job is potentially on the line, and the girl he’s apparently willing to risk it for is about to have a super deep conversation about why he shouldn’t do that. And why we should put our relationship on hold until I graduate in May. Seven months isn’t that long. Right?
Right.
An hour later, our scrimmage is over and I’m certain I played like shit. I was distracted and stuck in my thoughts. Gina had a few choice words for me, but other than that, no one said anything. Hopefully I still get to play tomorrow.
But that isn’t the priority.
I catch Mack’s eyes and he tilts his head just slightly, indicating we should walk over… well, somewhere. The parking lot, his office. Just somewhere that doesn’t include a bunch of my teammates.
“Hey RJ!” I hear from behind me.
My body freezes.
I can hear Thomas jogging lightly towards me, but my eyes stay locked on Mack, who is just a few feet from me, bending over to stuff a final ball into his mesh net bag.
“I made reservations for Friday at that new tapas place on the drag.”
Mack’s eyes snap up to mine.
“I was thinking I could pick you up at 6:30ish? That should give us enough time to get there, park, walk around a little, you know? Proper date stuff.”
His eyes are wild and confused and they flick between me and Thomas. But then he looks away, grabs his bag and practically storms towards the parking lot.
“RJ?” I turn to look at Thomas. His eyes look behind me at Mack’s retreating form, then back to me. “Everything okay?”
I nod several times, surely looking like a bobble head. I’m only able to form an eloquent, “uh huh. Gotta go,” and I’m grabbing my duffle and power walking in Mack’s wake.
When I finally get to the parking lot, I see Mack chuck his bag angrily into the bed of his truck. I just stand there, watching him. Every nerve in my body says I should go to him, right this moment, and tell him the truth. Tell him about overhearing his call and how I reacted, so he knows why I did it but also that I regret it.
But I don’t.
I don’t go to him.
I just watch him.
I watch as he runs his hands through his hair and grips the back of his head, his face turned downward.
I watch as he clenches and unclenches his fists, and gets into his truck.
And when our eyes lock through his windshield, and he shakes his head in what looks like anger or frustration, I do nothing but watch as he drives away.
* * * * *
“You said WHAT?!”
Charlie’s voice is shrill. I haven’t heard her squeal like this in a long time.
“You heard me,” I huff out as I towel dry my hair while I sit cross-legged in yoga pants and a baggy shirt on my bedroom floor. “Don’t make me repeat it.”
Charlie walks out of my room. I hear her banging around in her own room for a few minutes before she’s back, with her arm extended and her finger pointing at me.
“No. I want to hear you say it again. If you are actually going to make this colossal mistake, you need to stick by it, mister!”
I sigh and throw my towel on the ground. She’s in a mood. And the only way to get her to go away so I can finish getting ready for this stupid date is to tell her about the game yesterday. Again.
“I told him I didn’t want to wait until May.”
My stomach curls at the memory, and I can’t maintain eye contact with Charlie.
It was one of the most difficult moments I’d ever faced. Mack, with his sweet heart and kind soul, his warm eyes and easy confidence, had come to me after we’d finished the home game against Cal Poly. He’d come to me looking tired and beaten down. Wounded.
“I don’t understand what happened,” he said in a hushed voice in the hallway outside of the locker rooms. “I thought we were figuring it out.” He swallowed. “I thought…” but he didn’t finish his sentence, as several of the girls came out of the locker room.
“See you at practice on Saturday!” Piper said, her voice the epitome of cheer as she basked in the glow of her three goals.
I gave her a small, forced smile and a wave, then looked back at Mack.
“I thought we were both in this, together. What changed between Sunday and yesterday?”
It took me a moment to muster up the courage to say what I wanted, and when the words fell from my lips I felt physically ill.
“I decided I don’t want to sneak around, Mack.”
“So you immediately accept a date with Thomas? Where is this coming from?”
I shrugged, because I didn’t know what else to do.
“You know this thing between us is something special, and you’re just going to throw it away?”
I shrugged again, feeling incredibly immature, but also incapable of verbalizing anything that would advance the conversation.
“You didn’t even want to talk to me about it? We could have figured something out. We could have waited until you graduated, or… or I could have…”
“It’s not worth it to me.”
I cut him off before he could say he would quit his job. But the words that popped out of my mouth were much more cruel than I had intended. His mouth parted in surprise and his brows furrowed.
“It’s not worth it to me to put my life on hold until May. I don’t want to have to wait.”
He stared at me for a few seconds before I turned and walked as confidently as I could muster out of the practice facility to the parking lot. And then when I reached my car and closed myself inside, I cried. I cried all the way home, I cried in the shower, and I cried in bed.
I should have just told him.
I should have told him that I heard the conversation, and gone with the original plan to wait.
But after seeing Mack storm away after practice and seeing how dejected he looked at the game, I knew that the only way for us to move forward would be separately. And to do that we would nee
d to put a pin in everything.
The longing glances would stop. The stolen kisses when no one was looking would stop. But only if I hurt him. I just wasn’t prepared for what the words would feel like once they left my mouth. It was vile, and I could barely stand the sight of myself.
“I can’t believe you said that shit to him,” Charlie’s voice snaps me out of a memory that’s making me physically ill. “You should have just been fucking honest!”
She’s shouting. Like, actually shouting.
“You don’t live my life, Charlie,” I say in exasperation. “You don’t get to tell me what choices I should and shouldn’t be making.”
“You know what? Fine! But when you realize the mistake you’ve made, and you actually sit and reflect on what a miserable bitch you were, how hurtful you were to a man who has been nothing but open and kind and vulnerable with you, don’t come talk to me about it. Because my response is going to be a nasty little I told you so.” And with that, she storms out of my room and slams her bedroom door.
I huff out another sigh. I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing all day. Sighing about my life, when in reality, I’ve made these decisions myself, so I shouldn’t be disappointed.
God, but the look in Mack’s eyes. Actually saying the words It’s not worth it to me? I don’t think I’ve ever said something in such an intentionally hurtful way to someone who didn’t deserve it.
But I can’t let Mack quit his job or get fired over me. Especially when I don’t think I wouldn’t make the same risk for him. He took that step forward and reached back for me, and I literally spit in his hand and walked in the other direction.
I let out a groan and lean back against the foot of my bed. So this is what it feels like to be a bitch? I don’t know how Gina does it every day. It’s exhausting.
The Keeper Page 18
