AMAZING HEART (Broken Bottles Series Book 4)

by Pamela Taeuffer

  Why had she put so many things that were her responsibility on the shoulders of her children, waiting years before she changed her shift at work, leaving her daughters alone at night with Dad—and sometimes his dangerous and drunk friends? All those things were magically left to resolve themselves. Wasn't this the perfect time to challenge her parenting decisions once and for all, the same way she was challenging me?

  The time had come.

  "Your barbs and sarcasm won't change the things I've asked you to consider, Nicky."

  Really? Then why does this family use that technique so often?

  "They're not barbs, Mom. They're facts. They happened."

  Your move.

  "Maybe Ryan won't want you at his game and would rather you wait at the hotel. Perhaps he has other connections to take care of while he's in town before he allows you in his world and he'll get you when he's ready." Her eyes slanted in judgment.

  "It's not like that." God, I hope it's not anyway. "Ryan respects me. I love baseball. I wouldn't go with him if I couldn't go to the games. We're like partners. He's done a lot for me—"

  "Oh yeah?" Her hands slapped the counter. "What has he done for you besides made you cry? Awakened you sexually?"

  Well for one thing, he's trying to save your husband's pension.

  I thought about addressing her comment and elaborating about how I'd awakened sexually all on my own, but reconsidered it was too much. Bottom line, she was scared.

  She didn't know . . . I was afraid, too. Our difference? I pushed myself each day to overcome my fears in ways she hadn't.

  "We have long conversations about life, Mom. He's helped me understand the things I've gone through in new ways. Plus, I've connected with him on a level I never thought I could with anyone. We've really gotten close."

  "Close?" Her eyes darted around the room. "It was only a few days ago you came home sobbing because of something he did on your date. Now you're close to him?" She gave a mock laugh. "Yeah, I bet he wants you to be close. Without any clothes on."

  "No, he—"

  "Will he even let you stay with your sister?"

  Let me? It's not as if I'll need his permission . . . or will I?

  "Jenise and I—"

  "You say you haven't had sex yet, but going with him will change all of that. How have you planned for it? Just what are you doing, Nicky?"

  "I've thought about everything and—"

  "You seem to be throwing everything to chance." Her voice swiped the air. "You need to stop and think this through."

  That's the point—I'm tired of thinking everything through. For once, I just want to go. Let me go, please Mom. Let's stop this conversation so I can begin packing.

  When Mom finally paused, I knew in many ways she was right. I was too eager. My emotions had overtaken me. I'd tried so hard to control everything in my life and yet it didn't change the fact that my father was still an alcoholic and my mother was a co-dependent spouse in denial. All of us except for Jenise, a rape survivor who somehow clawed her way back to life, had closed down and stayed away from new relationships.

  I was hit with the sudden realization of what my sister had revealed to me weeks ago—when it came down to it, we have no control of anything except how we act and react, the choices we make, and how we treat other people. The randomness of the world can take us into its eye in a fraction of one moment. Now that I faced my mother and her fears, I understood in a new way.

  I held my hand up and asked Mom to stop for a moment.

  Chapter 6

  A Pause

  I sat down to process the revelation.

  The power of it had almost hit with the force of lightning.

  Letting loose in a positive, loving way was all I had ever wanted. It was a part of the vision I'd written about—jumping off my cliff and taking a leap of faith with another person.

  It was knocking inside me.

  Demanding my attention.

  Now.

  Jumping from the safety of my shadows, refusing to stand back or hide from people—all of them were risks. But I risked those things and more every day.

  Presenting my plan for a high school cheer team to the Goliaths had been a risk.

  Sacrificing social time with friends, volunteering instead on most every weekend, being involved in committee work at school so I could pad my college resume, all of it was a risk.

  Putting all of my hopes and dreams in attending Stanford was a risk.

  Going to prom was a risk.

  Disagreeing with my father was a risk.

  Daring to be friends with a man like Ryan was a risk.

  Saying yes to coffee with Ethan was a risk.

  Just walking from my house to the streetcar was a risk.

  My sister had been walking home from school when she was raped. Yet, she took that risk again and again, her fear put aside purposefully with each step on the sidewalk outside of our home, each pound of her fist against her prison walls, getting out of her bed to see her therapist, making her way with new friends and the unfamiliar surroundings of college, planning a career—all because she dared to risk herself to the world once more.

  My father was once an innocent boy who had a dark addiction lying in wait ready to take him over. He dared leave his mother and seek out a better life even while she struggled to survive after the gruesome demise of her husband to spinal meningitis. He and his brothers watched their father's skin darken each day, his spine bend, and his head pull backward to his march of death. His mother made prescription pills a habit some years later to relieve her suffering—even with three minor children still at home. He'd taken another risk, marrying Mom. He bet his every happiness on her. Had he lost that wager?

  My mother had shut down after she quit her job because her children were unsafe with her husband. That took risk. She'd no longer have her own money. She loved her job and the friends she'd made there.

  I'd heard bits and pieces about Mom's past: her mother drank, her father drank, both of them cheated on each other. What were their problems? How did her parents change her life and dreams? Did they ever tell her they loved her or hold her in their arms and keep her safe?

  Ryan was dealing with abandonment. He risked introducing me to his brother and shared their story. He risked telling me he loved me. Every time he was on the pitcher's mound he took a risk that the ball flying off the bat wouldn't hit him in the head. He'd risked bearing his soul at Java House when we were in turmoil after our Yountville trauma.

  Changing things myself meant taking the baby steps that led out of the jagged twists and turns of fear. I had to put my whole heart on the edge. No one else could do it for me, even if they'd loved me in every way that was healthy. My life was my own, no longer under anyone else's control, including my parents.

  My childhood was fading. The world of being an adult waited for me. I had to challenge myself. With challenge, risk was synonymous. To get ahead and realize my dreams would mean pushing myself in every way I could.

  There was nothing sensible about what I was doing with Ryan. What point was there in being sensible? Where did it get my even-tempered, unemotional mother? Where did sensible get anyone in my family, except bringing us more pain because we sat in the bazaar, twisted security of familiarity rather than take a chance and step out from the dark into which we'd settled?

  What would have happened if someone in our house took a risk so big, their lives might never be the same, for better or worse?

  None of us had imagined taking a risk like that.

  Perhaps we really didn't want change.

  This life was what we knew, understanding how to maneuver through the dysfunction in every way.

  If we had the courage, wouldn't something change?

  What would happen if I took that risk, and was that person who changed everything, daring to meet Ryan on his road trip? Why couldn't change happen for me?

  It was about more than being with a man.

  It was more than love.
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br />   It was about becoming and emerging from my frozen cocoon. It was embracing life and all of its terribleness and all of its beauty.

  The vulnerability of opening my heart and taking a chance that another person would be gentle with it—whether in business, friendship, or the sweet intimacy of love—these were risks I needed to take. I had to. Life's dangers had dared to step in front of me. Could I reach out?

  I'd had enough of checking in with people, moving only when I had their permission. The hell with making sure everyone knew where I was. It was time for Mom and Dad to help themselves. I'd never been in trouble. Even as my friends drank and experimented with drugs—I was the good girl. I had to be ready and sober to handle the next disaster.

  After all, Mom depended on me.

  Dad depended on me.

  How could they take care of their own weaknesses and emotional vacancies?

  When had they ever done it?

  I was dependable and home when expected—always, always, always.

  That was about to change.

  I wanted to be with someone. That meant all the good and bad that came with him. We had a chance for something special. If Ryan and I didn't work out it would be difficult. The sadness would take time to mend. However I realized whether or not we stayed together wasn't the point. Most important was the chance to live life fully, because of my choices, my decisions and my actions.

  Those stories and promises of first love—the bruises and happy balloons, the little hearts that fluttered and the heavy tears that fell—I was ready for them.

  Why did everything seem different with Ryan?

  Why had Mom reacted so severely at my declaration of independence? Could she see that I was stepping through a door from which I might never return? Had she understood I had fallen in love and was making a commitment to let my heart become vulnerable for the first time in my life?

  "Are you all right?" Mom's voice suddenly brought me back into the moment.

  "Yes, I—I was thinking, trying to figure out . . . trying to find the right way to tell you . . ." I was overwhelmed with my discovery and in the midst of formulating my thoughts. I couldn't reveal them to her in a way that made sense just yet, so I veered in another direction. "I'm eighteen now, Mom. I'm not a baby anymore.”

  “I know you’re not—"

  Something clicked on.

  I was ready.

  And calm.

  The words were coming to me in bits and pieces, trying to form whole, succinct thoughts I could discuss. I was ready to speak. No longer would I stop or be interrupted and allow my opinions and responses to be muffled.

  “Mom, I’ve listened to everything you've had to say. It's my turn to speak. I'm asking you to listen to me. Can you?"

  Her expression showed surprise. When she looked at me, her daughter, did she recognize a new woman?

  She nodded.

  I hoped she was ready.

  Perhaps for the first time ever, we were both ready to take each other for the flawed people we were. Maybe we could take the needed steps to develop our relationship.

  "I'm going away in six months. I'll be making my own decisions every day. Some will work out and others won't. You know that I've taken care of myself for years. I've never asked for much. I'm not blaming you or Dad for my choices or the things that have happened because of them. I have the maturity to decide for myself. I'm going to meet Ryan in Denver."

  Mom sighed.

  She looked down at the table.

  Was it that she didn't think I was ready for my cross-country adventure with Ryan or did she recognize her own shortcomings?

  "I'll find out if Jenise can go and plan from there, okay?"

  Mom nodded.

  "Then I'll call Ryan to make sure I know where to meet him and ask about the money I'll need. After I have all the answers to your questions, I'll update you. Will that satisfy you?"

  "There's more to it than that," she seemed refocused.

  "Please be happy for me, Mom. I've never had a boyfriend or done anything like this my whole life. For once, I just want to do something without overanalyzing it. I need to let go and enjoy the freedom I have left before college starts. I'll be knee-deep into a four-year commitment soon enough."

  It's been impossible for me to open up like this because of all the ways we've been shut down in this house. Please acknowledge that I'm changing and celebrate with me.

  "That's my point." Her voice had lowered, talking from a more rational place. "You've never been with a guy and you're meeting a twenty-five-year-old man in a city thousands of miles from here? Your father and I haven't said anything about you spending time with Ryan. We've respected your decisions and your right to privacy, but this is something else entirely. You're moving faster and faster and you need to slow it down. Before you know it, he'll take you into his world and you'll have given up on your goals. You won't even know as it's happening because you'll be so enamored and spellbound by his life and his sensuality."

  "No, I won’t. Our relationship didn't happen overnight, Mom." I planted my flag in the ground and claimed my territory. "We've been getting closer every day and talk on a deep, intimate level. It's been since last year, really." I was done hiding the truth and decided to say it. "I'm in love and I feel sick being away from him. I have to go. I need to go."

  "I know you're in love." Her voice trailed off followed by a long sigh. "I know. I've watched it happen over the last year. I know the kind of excitement and raw emotion you're feeling. I'm a woman and at one time I was where you are.” Her voice held compassion, a quality I’d seldom heard from her. "I'm asking you to wait. Doesn't your father deserve to have a conversation with you like we're doing now?”

  Since when do we talk about anything?

  "I understand why you want Dad here but I have a good grasp of who Ryan is and where we're going." I couldn't resist. Sarcasm. I tried not to. Even counted to three. Swallowed the words. Lost the battle. "Dad didn't care about talking with me when he drove me home drunk from the bar, did he? In some ways I feel he's lost the right. Sorry. I have to be honest."

  She sighed. Sipped her coffee.

  I felt as small as I ever had.

  "I know you're concerned and what I'm doing obviously worries you. This is my choice and my life. I'm taking charge of it, Mom. I have to. It's time I took control of myself. I don't need to talk with Dad. I know he'd try and talk me out of it just like you are. I won't change my mind."

  "If in two days you still want to go, I promise I won't argue or interfere with your plans," Mom pleaded. "I know you hate to talk about it, but . . ."

  "We're not going to have sex." My words were firm.

  Just get off it, Mom.

  "You don't think so?" she pushed.

  "No!" I was emphatic.

  "That's ridiculous. Yes, you will." She was stone-faced and serious. "Just tell me the truth. Are you having it now? Just say you're using protection if you are."

  "I'm not having sex."

  "You'll need to get birth control before you leave." Her stare never wavered.

  "I'm not having sex," I repeated.

  "And that's my point, Nicky. It's naive of you to expect that nothing will happen. You'll feel like you're in a different world, stepping into an adult life and you'll give in to him. You need to check into birth control before college starts. No time like the present. Don't you agree?"

  "Maybe," I said stubbornly.

  "Maybe?" Mom prodded.

  "I'll think it over. I really—"

  "You don't want to think about preparing or sex," she confirmed my thoughts. "I can see the look on your face. But the time for indecision has passed. You need to take charge of your body and be smart about it."

  "Yeah." I knew she was right. Still, thinking about a pill for sex every day was disturbing. I didn't like it. "I've been strong and firm in my resolve. I've held true to my moral and spiritual beliefs, and—" It was as if Mom waited for every pause and chance to interject her opinion
s.

  "Regardless, those beliefs disappear quickly when passion rises. You need to be ready for sex or you'll get pregnant. Condoms aren't enough," she said with startling finality. "There comes a time when you're carried away in desire. You’ll both choose not to pause. He'll be too excited to wait. Since you haven't had sex before him, he'll know you're safe and he won't use protection. I know it, Nicky. I know how those times are. Condoms are fine for occasional sex. Entering into a relationship with someone like him? He'll want sex and lots of it.”

  I hope we do have lots of sex. I'll have it when I'm ready and Ryan's ready . . . maybe.

  “You're so wide-eyed and innocent. I feel so bad that you're rushing into a relationship with such a mature man. I wish you'd date boys your own age."

  "I can understand why you'd feel that way," I agreed. "Then what? Have sex with someone who doesn't know what the hell he's doing?"

  "Or maybe not at all?"

  "Mom," I gave her a look that conveyed ridiculousness. "I'm going to college. Come on."

  "You'll let him do whatever he wants." She wrinkled her brow as she tried to change my mind. "You need to be on the pill, get a monthly shot or something else that will allow you to have sex spontaneously."

  Damn, Mom. Where has this talk been before now? It's like I expect you to pull out some brochures!

  "Well, like I told you before, he invited Jenise. He said we'd have separate rooms and I'd stay with her. I don't think sex is on the table," I reasoned. "If it is, though . . . I'm just . . . well, I could've had sex with him a bunch of times already. I'll think about all the things we've discussed."

  "You're being naive." She paused. "Actually, you're being stupid."

  "Mom, that's not nice."

  Why does my family think it's okay to throw around insults like that?

  "Maybe not, but sex is always on the table," she said bluntly. "I don't care how good of a man he is or how wonderful he treats you. Sex, with any man, let alone a man like him, is always in the forefront of their mind. It's all they think about at that age. Ryan is at the prime of his physical life and sexual peak. He's exposed to women who pull their skirts up every day. He competes with other men who have the same high testosterone levels as he does and talk about the intense, raw sex they get.” Mom gave me a pointed look before continuing. “Bet money. He's thinking of sex with you 24/7. Highly competitive alpha males like him push your boundaries. He's only waiting for the right moment. If you want your plans to be the way you see them now, you need to reconsider."