“I have to go,” I tell her, needing to end the call before I say anything more that I’ll regret. Why do I bother hoping that my mom and I can have a better relationship? She’s right about one thing: I knew this would be her reaction, and it is exactly the reason I didn’t tell her.
“Will you come to Auburn for Labor Day weekend? It’s been too long since I’ve seen you. Please, honey.”
“I don’t know. I’ll see.” We hang up quickly after that, and I drive to Danny’s house with lead in my stomach. At some point, he’s going to want to meet my mom again, and I don’t have the heart to tell him that she doesn’t approve.
§
I walk up the front steps of Danny’s house, and let myself in using the key he insisted on giving me. When I reach the entryway, I can hear him on the phone in his office.
“Jason, this is unacceptable. You know my position. Every year, I expect you to come up with a new way to teach and assess every unit. I don’t want to see the same lesson plans rehashed year after year. It needs to be fresh, both for your benefit and for that of the students. What you’ve given me here demonstrates a lack of effort.”
I push the door open, and he immediately turns in my direction, giving me a warm smile that is in direct contrast to the tone of his current discussion. He nods for me to have a seat in the comfortable chair that faces his desk, and holds up a finger to indicate that he’s almost finished.
As he listens to what I imagine are protests on the other end of the line, I take a moment to look around this space. I haven’t really spent any time in his office, and I’m fascinated by the way it reflects the man I’ve come to know.
There is an entire wall of bookshelves, crammed with education and science-related periodicals. I don’t know how he can possibly keep up with all of these. There are photos of all of the basketball teams he’s coached through the years, and plaques of appreciation for his time. There’s an awesome action shot of him in his Cavaliers uniform jumping to block a pass. His expression is the epitome of intense determination. It gives me a small window into the kind of player he probably was.
Also on the bookshelf is his Bachelor’s degree in biology from UVA, as well as his Master’s degree in education from Stanford.
Hanging on the wall off to the side in a less prominent position are not one, but two national teaching awards, both for his work at Taft Middle School. One is a Presidential Award for Math and Science Teaching, and the other is from the Science Teachers Association. These seem like a big deal to me, but he’s never mentioned them.
In addition to all of these are lots of photos of friends and family–his sister and her family, Jamie, Mel and the kids, his parents, and several of him with groups of people at parties, concerts, camping, etc.
And finally, he has three beautiful framed landscapes that I’m assuming he took himself in Yosemite, the Tetons and Zion National Park. He really is very talented. He views the world with such an artist’s eye. I guess that’s not surprising because art and natural science are closely entwined in so many ways.
Watching him at his desk is a reminder to me that as warm and funny as he is with me, this is a very accomplished man who has probably been intensely focused and goal-oriented his entire life.
“No, I’m not asking you to do anything more than I’m doing myself. I want to see new plans on my desk by Thursday. School starts on Monday, and I expect you to be better prepared.”
Hanging up, he turns his attention to me, immediately discarding any irritation from his phone call.
“Hi, beautiful! Great day today, huh?”
“It was quite a day,” I muse, probably missing some of the enthusiasm he’s expecting. Yes, that pretty much sums it up. He looks at me curiously, but he doesn’t push.
“You can tell me about it over dinner.”
§
Dinner is a feast of succulent branzino, and a beautiful spinach salad. As we’re finishing, Danny leans back in his chair and looks me over.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
Did I really think I could keep it from him? He knows me too well.
I debate just telling him that I’m tired, and avoiding the subject of my mom, but I know that when it comes to intimacy, the right thing to do is usually the opposite of my natural instincts. I want this relationship to be much better than my previous ones. For Danny and I both, learning to be more open is a scary and difficult process. And I catch myself faltering often. But not tonight.
“I talked to my mom today.”
“And?”
“And I told her about us.” I don’t meet his eyes; he has a knack for seeing more than I intend.
“I didn’t realize you hadn’t told her. I take it the conversation didn’t go well.” His voice is gentle, and it breaks my heart.
“I don’t care what she says,” I tell him, glancing up into his face again, as his green eyes probe me softly. “She liked both Seth and John, so that shows how much she knows.”
“What did she say?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
I’m embarrassed to tell him. We’ve only really known each other for three months. Any talk of marriage would probably give a mostly-confirmed bachelor a nervous tic.
“Sarah.” He lowers his head to hook my gaze once more. His eyes are tender, but insistent. “What did she say?”
I take a deep breath and exhale. Oh, hell. The barn door is open, and the horse is already in the next county by now.
“She says that someone who’s 33 is thinking about marriage and kids, and that I should be living the life of a 22-year-old, not putting myself in a position to sacrifice my career because I am with someone who is at a different stage in his life.” There. If that doesn’t completely freak him out, I don’t know what will. “But like I said, she doesn’t know you, and I don’t care what she thinks.”
“Then why does it bother you?” he asks carefully, searching my face for the truth.
“I don’t know.”
“I think it bothers you because a part of you knows she’s right.”
I stare at him incredulously. “How can you say that? She isn’t right.”
“I’m going to tell you something that might surprise you. Are you ready?”
I can’t imagine where this is going, and no, frankly, I’m not ready. “Okay.”
“I would marry you tomorrow, Sarah. And nothing would make me happier than to have a family with you.”
He’s looking at me squarely in the eyes, and there isn’t a trace of humor in his expression. I know without even having to ask that he is absolutely serious.
“How can you know that?” I whisper, conveying my utter shock at his certainty.
“Because when I told you I loved you, I meant it. I’ve never felt this way for anyone before, and I know exactly what I want with you. Your mom is right about that, so don’t be angry with her. But you need to know that I would never ask, or even want, you to limit a career that I know is important to you just because I’m at a place in my life when I’m ready. I can wait as long as you need me to.”
“Danny.” I don’t know how to respond.
He shakes his head. “You don’t need to say a word. I’m not asking anything of you. I just want you to know my intentions.”
I’m speechless and overwhelmed. I think my mouth is open slightly, and all I can do is blink at him. I can’t begin to process all of this. There is no doubt in my mind that I love him and that he loves me. But marriage? Family? We have so much to learn about each other still. How can he possibly know that I’m the one?
I’m reeling. But then he smiles at me, leaning forward to brush a hair from my face.
“Now, where’s my dessert, woman?” he barks, snapping his fingers for maximum effect. His eyes are alight with mischief. That definitely breaks the moment. And, if I’m being honest, I’m relieved.
I’m pretty certain he knows that, too.
Chapter 14
Sarah
By Friday night, we’re both exhausted, and not prepared for the firestorm that’s heading our way.
“So, don’t forget that I agreed to spend next weekend with my mom for Labor Day,” I remind him as we walk through the front door of his place.
“I didn’t realize that was a done deal.” He throws his keys and wallet on the table in the entryway and walks into the kitchen.
I follow behind, Ralphie wheezing with excitement, and begging for attention at my heel.
“It is. I need to spend some time with her. I haven’t been to visit her all summer, and with school starting in a few weeks, my schedule’s going to get crazy.”
“Okay,” he says carefully. “You can take my car. I’ll drive yours if I need it.”
“No way,” I brush that notion off in a hurry. “I’m not taking your car.”
Dan’s car is really nice, and if I so much as dented a fender or scratched the door, I couldn’t afford to fix it.
“How are you planning on getting there then?” he asks, turning to me. I stop short at the expression on his face.
“I’m driving,” I answer hesitantly, confused by his question.
“Not in your car, you’re not.” He makes solid eye contact, and for some odd reason, he looks mad. Almost accusing. I’m more than a little taken aback. And then, without a single other word, he turns and stalks out of the room.
What the hell?
I stalk out right behind him, and follow him to his bedroom. He’s pulling off his black, pinstriped dress shirt when I walk in, and his bare chest almost distracts me from my point. Almost.
Standing in the doorway, I cut straight to the chase. “You don’t get to mandate how I get to my mom’s. How do you think I got there before I knew you?”
He turns abruptly at my question. “I don’t care how you got there before–you are not driving that heap of shit up to Auburn. Are we clear?”
Though I feel my blood pressure rising steadily, we’ve been together long enough for me to know that there’s little to gain from shouting at him when he’s being stubborn like this. Tempting as it may be, he’ll just dig his heels in further.
So I purposefully ignore his arrogant, pig-headed, jackass of an attitude, and very calmly explain, “It’s not going to break down. It’s perfectly fine, and I am driving it. I don’t need your permission to drive my own car–a car I have been driving for years.”
“That’s not happening,” he says, plainly in no mood to be reasonable. “If you won’t take mine, which is ridiculous, then I will rent you one. Got it?”
Oh, now he’s really done it. “No, I don’t got it. Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”
“This discussion is over. Period.”
“Period? Really? End of discussion? That’s how you think this goes?” I’m working myself up into a full lather. And, looking at him, so is he.
“Yes!” he says, giving me a glare that is downright arctic. “That’s how it goes when you act like an irresponsible child.”
An irresponsible child!
“And what do you suppose happens when you act like an ass?” I shoot back. “I am driving my car, and that’s final. Period.”
I turn and stomp out of the room, down the hall, and towards the kitchen. I almost reach it when he grabs me by the arm and swings me around.
“Goddammit, Sarah! I’m sick of this shit! This isn’t negotiable,” he shouts at me.
Danny rarely, if ever, raises his voice.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I shout right back. “But I’m not going to stand here and let you issue orders about what I can and can’t do. Since when did you become such a tyrant?”
We’re both so mad we’re panting. And we both seem to have lost every bit of restraint.
“A tyrant? That’s what you think I am?”
“Goddammit!” he shouts, and slams his hand into the wall.
The explosion is followed by absolute silence.
Danny closes his eyes, and runs his hands through his hair again and again, as though he’s fighting to regain his composure.
I just stare at him in shock.
When he finally opens his eyes, his expression is filled with obvious regret and frustration, but also something else. It takes me a moment to recognize it as fear. A fear that still lingers, even ten years later.
“I’m not going to get in an accident.” I say quietly.
He stares intensely at me for a long minute without answering. Then he turns and walks out. I hear him grab a bottle of Stella from the refrigerator and open the sliding glass door to the yard.
My heart sinks. To meet this man, you wouldn’t think him afraid of anything. But he’s afraid for me. And I have very mixed feelings about that.
Walking into the backyard, I find him sitting in one of the deep, all-weather wicker chairs, and looking out at nothing specific.
“Can I join you?” I ask quietly. He doesn’t respond, but I sit in the chair next to him anyway.
“Dan, I service my car regularly. It’s far safer and more reliable than you think.”
Still no response.
“Danny, I don’t want to take your car because if it was scratched in any way, I couldn’t afford to fix it. And, it’s against the law for you to rent a car for me. I wouldn’t put either of us in that position.”
“Then we can get you a train ticket. It’s simple to do online.”
“That requires a credit card that I don’t have,” I say quietly, in an abortive attempt to hide my embarrassment.
He doesn’t push the issue of using his credit card–instead, he hones in on what he correctly surmises as the bigger issue.
“Why?”
Looking down in my lap, I twist my fingers together. Knowing this would come up at some point did not prepare me for its coming up today. I desperately battle back the tears, but to no avail. An errant drop spills over and I quickly brush it from my cheek, hoping he won’t notice. He does, and his demeanor changes in an instant.
With his attention now focused on me, he takes my hands in his. His voice has lost the hard edge, and is now laced with concern.
“What’s wrong, Sarah? Tell me why you’re crying.”
The answer is something that only my mother and I know. I never, ever wanted to have to tell to anyone, least of all him. But he deserves the whole truth about me; it’s likely to affect him, at some point.
“I can’t get a credit card. My credit is ruined.”
His mouth opens slightly like he is trying to figure out what to say.
“By the time I was sixteen or seventeen, my mom had gone through most of our savings. She was drinking a lot and she couldn’t hold down a job. I worked as many hours as I could to make a little extra money to help out. But it wasn’t enough. What I didn’t know at the time was that she had been taking out credit cards in my name. She maxed them all out, and never paid the monthly bill.”
“Oh, Christ, Sarah.” He sighs heavily.
“I didn’t find out until I was at Stanford, and tried to rent an apartment. She had been trying to repair some of the damage by then, but it’s extensive. So I’m stuck with the debt and the credit rating, Danny. If I reported it to anyone or tried to contest the charges, she could go to jail. She committed fraud.”
“I get it,” he nods sympathetically.
“We worked out a plan with the banks, and my mom has been good for the last few years about sending the payments in. It’s just
going to take time.”
“Let me help you. I have plenty of money, Sarah. Trust me on that. Plus, I own my house and car outright, so I have no real expenses. I want to help. Call it a loan if you want, but you shouldn’t have to live with the stress of that.”
He’s so earnest and so generous. And I know he really means it. But there’s no way in the world that I would ever take him up on it. No way in the world.
“No. Thank you, but no. We’ve got it worked out. But that’s why I can’t do the things you’re suggesting. I hope you understand.”
He turns back to stare at the yard. “Then, please, take my car. I have insurance if anything happens to it, and, quite frankly, I don’t care if it did. But I can’t…” He stops and shakes his head, his expression pained. “I know it’s not rational, but …just….” He turns to face me again, his eyes searching mine, imploring me to acquiesce. “Please, just take my car.”
I know this is a big deal for him. And it’s a big deal for me, too. The fact that we’ve both just admitted to some very painful secrets is a big deal for both of us.
And the thought of him worrying all weekend destroys me. I don’t want that.
“Okay,” I nod.
“Okay,” he says mildly. But relief is evident in his beautiful eyes, and that look alone is worth surrendering a considerable amount of my own stubborn pride. I’m really not sure I could ever deny this man anything.
He turns his attention back to the yard and takes a long sip of his beer. He seems a million miles away. He doesn’t say anything further, and it’s hard to know if we’ve actually achieved any sort of closure, other than my capitulation. But I don’t know what else to say. So I just let it go.
§
Danny
I’d like to be able to say that Sarah’s relenting on the car puts the issue to rest. But the truth is, it doesn’t. In fact, on the contrary, the whole episode seems to bring to the surface something I thought I’d long since buried: my own fucked-up demons.
Ripple Effects Page 15
