Deepest Scars: A Being Me Stand-Alone Companion Novel

by Tricia Copeland

  Jeff pulls out his map and shows us all the trails on the preserve. I take a picture with my phone, so I can look it up online. Liz and I wave goodbye and make our way to my truck. I hear crunching gravel behind me, and Josie approaches on her bike. “You guys carpool?”

  “Yeah, her place isn’t far from mine.”

  “You guys are lucky. I drove clear across town.”

  Liz keeps walking, so I reply. “Maybe there are some trails near your place.”

  Josie reaches her car. “Hey, are you coming out for a drink? We’re headed to a pub. I can text you the directions.”

  “I’m pretty sweaty. What about you?” I call to Liz.

  She looks back briefly. “I have to work tomorrow.”

  “That’s brutal, work on Labor Day?” Josie comments. “Guess I’ll see you next weekend.”

  “Yep.” I wave a hand behind my head. Reaching the car, I lift Liz’s cycle and lock it in place. Using my towel, I dry off, trying not to think about how my odor is going to fill the whole car. Sliding in my seat, I turn to Liz. “Do I stink too bad?”

  “It’s bearable.”

  “Good. Sorry.”

  “It’s not like I don’t sweat.”

  “You always smell good.” I crank the truck and turn to back up.

  At Liz’s apartment, I unlock her bike and throw it over my shoulder before she can protest. She does anyway as we ascend the stairs. I wait as she unlocks the door and stay put as she walks in, not wanting to assume. “Want me to take this to your patio?”

  “Oh, darn. I probably need to rinse it off.”

  “Okay, back down it is.” I jump at the chance to prolong my time with her.

  She shakes her head. “Did I invite you to help?”

  We get to the bottom of the stairs, and I set her bike on the pavement. “Sorry, I’ve overstayed my welcome, obviously.” I clear my throat.

  “Don’t be silly.” She slaps my arm. “I’m playing with you. Come on.”

  I unload my bike, and we cycle over to the wash station. The sun and sky glow orange. The air is cooler than a month ago, and I wonder what fall and winter will be like.

  “It’s weird to think about not being in school.” Liz echoes my thoughts.

  “Tell me about it. I’ve been in college for six years.”

  We compare our colleges while we hose off the cycles. Walking them back to her place, the parking lot lights start to come on.

  “It almost feels like home with the humidity and the breeze,” she comments as I lock my bike.

  “Do you miss your family and friends?”

  “A little, my sister especially.”

  She tells me she’ll visit at Christmas, and I suggest we put together a Thanksgiving dinner.

  “Maybe we should wait a couple of months on that, Mr. Planner.”

  “Ugh, I’m doing it again.” I let my head fall back. “Getting ahead of myself. How embarrassing. I mean, if nothing else, we’ll be friends, right? I get excited about stuff.”

  “No, I totally took it as that.”

  “Right.” I recline against my car, thinking I am a first-class idiot for assuming we’ll be in a relationship months from now. “I think that’s my cue for the night.”

  She wraps her fingers around my forearm and slides her hand down to grip mine. “I had a fun day today. I can’t wait to hear what you have planned for San Diego.” A smile spreads across her face.

  “Great.” I exhale. “Oh God, I’m supposed to call my aunt.”

  “And you’re off again.” Pushing up on her heels, she presses her lips to mine.

  It’s all I need to take a beat, and I wrap my free arm around her waist. I hold her to me, relishing the feel of her warm skin on my mouth.

  “Your apartment is right there.” Brad’s voice echoes across the parking lot.

  She rests her head on my chest, and I take a deep breath laced with the scent of her shampoo. Stepping back, she drops my hand.

  “Can I help you get your bike up?”

  Biting her lip, she shakes her head. “I got it. Call me tomorrow.”

  I catch her hand and pull her to me, giving her a quick kiss. “I will.”

  Blasting the radio, I can’t help but to sing along. She’s such a fun girl and seems to like me. When I park in my lot, I dial my aunt’s number.

  “Zack, hi, your mother said you might call,” she answers on the first ring.

  “Yeah, sorry, I should have phoned you weeks ago. I was wondering if you had room for a couple more people for Rosh Hashana?”

  “How many are a couple?”

  “Just me and a friend.” I unlock my bike as we talk.

  “A girlfriend?”

  I roll my eyes as I hike the bike to my shoulder. “Yes, sort of.”

  “I can work that out.”

  “Great, thanks. I’m looking forward to it. Is there anything I can bring?” Reaching my driveway, I pull in and search for a spot.

  “Nope, just yourself.”

  Ending the call, I put a reminder in my phone to get her a gift for hosting us. Then, I text Liz. REALLY ENJOYED OUR DAY TOGETHER. TALKED TO MY AUNT, AND WE’RE ALL GOOD.

  ME TOO. GREAT, LOOKING FORWARD TO IT. GOODNIGHT.

  GOODNIGHT.

  After stowing my bike, I open my calendar to check my schedule. We’d talked about everything else but the week ahead. You don’t have to plan everything, I tell myself. Next, I check my messages to see if I can pick up a shift. The bad thing about new relationships is not knowing how the other person feels. If it were up to me right now, I’d see Liz every day. But for my own mental health, and in case of a bad outcome, I figure it’s good to balance my time.

  Still, the next morning at eleven thirty, I find myself walking across the Mayo parking lot, flowers in hand. We haven’t talked about public displays of affection, and seeing her talking with Lydia and Rose in the cafeteria, I second guess myself. But we’ve been out twice, and kissed at least five times, so I take a deep breath and stride to her. Lydia notices me first, and my stomach clenches. When Liz spins to face me, I take one last long step to reach her.

  I hold the bouquet of yellow daisies out. “Hi. Thought I would get you these to help you get through your first day on the pediatric floor.”

  Her face is blood red, and her eyes cut to Lydia, Rose, and then back to me. Her face shakes like she’s clenching her jaw, and I wonder if I’ve made a huge mistake. She blinks, looks into my eyes, and the edges of her lips turn up. She takes the flowers from me. “This is really sweet. My day hasn’t exactly been stellar.”

  “A kid threw up on her.” Lydia’s hand goes to her hip. “I guess we know now why she said you weren’t such a bad guy.”

  Liz takes a step towards me. “This was really nice. Thank you.” She spins to face Lydia and Rose. “You guys mind if I—”

  “Go have lunch with your man.” Lydia squeezes her arm.

  Liz turns back to me. “I only have half an hour.”

  “No problem.” I lift the bag of sandwiches. “So, hard day?” I ask as we walk to a table.

  “You could say that. These are really pretty. You didn’t have to spend your day off coming here.” Sitting down, she presses the flowers to her nose.

  I shrug. “I got bored.”

  “Free time is not good for you, is it?”

  “This was okay, right? I mean I didn’t think about Lydia and Rose till I saw you with them.”

  “It’s sweet.” Her eyes cut to her shoes and she takes a half-breath. A vein of something—tension or sadness maybe—passes over her face, a blank stare for a second. But it’s gone as soon as I register it, and she refocuses on me.

  “So, who’s the little twerp I need to beat up?”

  “With the holiday, all the families are here. It’s crazy, nuts.”

  “I could make you dinner.”

  Her eyes fall to her meal, and she picks up the sandwich and takes a bite. “That sounds nice, but honestly, I’m only halfway through the day
, and I already want nothing more than to soak in a bath and go to bed.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I got my Liz fix in for the day.”

  Cheeks pink, she asks me what else I’d been up to, which amounted to a marathon gym session. “I might go bug Mitchell.”

  As we talk, her eyes cut around the room, and she seems distracted. Every bite she takes is precluded by a deep sigh, like she’s forcing herself to eat. Still, she has a smile for me each time I catch her eye.

  “This was a bad idea, wasn’t it? Too much, too soon. I kind of thought it might, you know, make my courting intentions formal, but you seem not so happy.”

  She holds my gaze. “It’s not you. Like I said…” She reaches across the table and holds her palm up. “It’s just a bad day. I really like the flowers and seeing you.”

  I take her hand. “If you need to vent or kick something, I could put on some pads.”

  “I’ll be good.” She squeezes and releases my hand. Her phone beeps. “And, that’s the end of my lunch break.”

  Jumping up, I grab her sandwich tray. “I’ll walk you up to your floor.”

  “That’d be nice.”

  I don’t call or text her the rest of the day, figuring she’d made it clear she wanted to be alone. Tuesday, I send a good morning message before I leave for work. She replies with a photo of the flowers, a thank you, and a smiley face. The daisies are still in the same Styrofoam cup from the hospital, which I think is cute. I’d planned on seeing if she wanted to go out tonight, but I hesitate. I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU THIS WEEK. TONIGHT OR SATURDAY? I send in a message at lunch.

  SATURDAY BETTER, she replies.

  I’m disappointed but push through. K. LET ME KNOW IF THERE’S SOMETHING SPECIAL YOU’D LIKE TO DO.

  BASEBALL?

  SERIOUSLY?

  YES!

  BASEBALL IT IS. NOSE BLEED OR FRONT ROW?

  NOSE BLEED.

  YOU’RE SO HARD TO PLEASE. I put a winky face after.

  SEE YOU TOMORROW AT VOLLEYBALL. She adds a smiley face.

  Taking that to indicate we’re not talking in the evening, I feel even more disheartened. I mean, we’re not exclusive. She could be dating someone else. Or she might have other plans. Twelve-hour shifts are grueling. Hers probably more so than mine. Still, I worry.

  “You’re off your game, Walters. Have anything to do with a certain red-head you brought flowers to yesterday,” Mitchell accuses as we scrimmage that night.

  I duck around him and make a layup. “Still got enough to beat you.”

  “Only because you’ve got four inches and a wicked jump on me.”

  “I told you, you should play volleyball. Lots of jumping. So, you heard about the flowers?”

  “Are you kidding? Lydia and Rose were there. The whole hospital knows.” He ducks around me, but I block his shot.

  “Surprised you didn’t start razzing me the second you saw me.”

  “Had to wait for a weak moment.” He jumps and throws over my head, making the shot.

  “Thanks for that.” I retrieve the ball. “That’s twelve to my twenty. You had enough?”

  “Of full court press, yes, I scream uncle.”

  At the bleachers, I grab my towel. She’s not the only fish in the sea, I tell myself. Still she’s the first fish I’ve been interested in since January.

  “You lifting?” Mitchell asks.

  “Sure, you in?”

  “You worked out yesterday too, didn’t you?”

  “I had the day off, what else am I supposed to do.”

  “Lay around in your boxers, drink, and binge watch movies.”

  “Alone?”

  “Heck, yeah!”

  We reach the gym and spot each other. It gets me to ten and complete exhaustion.

  “So, she not responding after the flowers?” Mitchell asks as we exit the building.

  “You think that’s it? It was too much?”

  “Or she’s dating someone else.”

  Dang, he’d said it out loud. “Well, only time will tell, other fish in the sea and all.”

  “Keep the faith, man.” Mitchell slaps me on the back, turns, and walks the other way.

  GOT US NOSEBLEEDS BEHIND SECOND BASE, I text Liz in the morning.

  SWEET, THANKS, I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO IT.

  HOPE YOUR DAY IS BETTER.

  I THINK I’M GETTING THE HANG OF THESE KIDS.

  GOOD. I smile, thinking maybe she was stressed about work. SEE YOU TONIGHT AT VOLLEYBALL.

  K. HAVE A GOOD ONE.

  That evening, I greet John and scan the room, looking for our team. When I reach them, Liz has a big smile for me, and I return her greeting.

  “You got your head in the game?” Jeff asks as he approaches. His eyes cut to Liz. “Tonight’s kind of important.”

  “Yeah, I’m good.” Jogging in place, I do a couple of jumping jacks. Liz seems back to her normal self, and I wonder if I made her whole mood up in my head. We do well in the tournament, only losing the final match by two points.

  “I can’t believe we lost it there at the end,” Liz says as she towels her face.

  “They’re a good team.”

  “Maybe we should scrimmage with them.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “The most important question is who’s coming for beer?” John calls out.

  Liz turns to me. “You going?”

  “On the fence.”

  “Yeah, me too. Late night, early morning. But I could use a beer after that near win.”

  “I’m with you on that one.”

  At the pub, we sit around a big table talking volleyball and strategy. Liz picked the seat beside me, and I remind myself to keep my hands within my personal space. Her laugh, voice, even the smell of her shampooed hair is intoxicating though.

  When the waiter comes, I order a beer and club sandwich. Liz points at me. “Are you eating the whole thing?”

  “No, I was going to save it for tomorrow.”

  “Want to split it?”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I smile, happy that we seem to be at a good comfort level even in public. We donate our fries to the table, and I finish the sandwich. “Sorry, guys, I have an early morning. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I rise to go.

  “Hey, I’ll walk out with you,” Liz dabs her mouth with a napkin.

  “Great.” I wait while she gathers her things.

  Outside I stretch my arms to the sky and let them drop.

  Liz intertwines her fingers with mine. “That was fun. They’re cool people.”

  “We holding hands in public now?” I smile at her.

  “That okay with you?”

  “Yes. I like it.” I squeeze her palm.

  “Good.”

  We walk to her car, and I wonder if it’s okay to kiss her. “Saturday night seems like a long time away.” I rake my finger across her forehead, moving her hair from in front of her left eye.

  She bites her lip and squeezes my hand. “Let’s talk when you’re done with your game tomorrow.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Okay.” She looks to the ground and back up at me.

  I step closer to her so we’re almost touching. “Until Saturday.” Leaning down, I kiss her.

  As she pulls away, she gives me another quick kiss. “Saturday.” She points at me and spins to face her car.

  “Bye.” I kiss her cheek and back away.

  “Bye.” She waves but doesn’t turn around.

  I half skip to the car, wondering why I’d been so worried.

  The next two nights, Liz calls as I’m leaving the stadium.

  “So, should we be worried we won’t have anything to talk about tomorrow night?” she asks.

  “I have twenty-two years of stuff to learn about you.”

  “Not sure you want to hear about my chicken pox. It was not a good look for me.”

  “I especially want to hear about the chicken pox. But, I should get to sleep if I’m getting up for the hike.”
I wind through my apartment and put away my gear.

  “I’m starting to think you’re a robot.”

  “Sleeping in would be nice.” I toss some laundry in the washer.

  “Yeah, you should. You could meet us for breakfast after the hike.”

  “Are you saying you’re going to miss me if I’m not there?”

  “Maybe.” She laughs.

  “Okay, I’m sleeping in. Text me when you’re heading to breakfast.”

  “Will do. Happy sleeping.”

  “You too, Goodnight.”

  I end the call, shower, and fall in bed.

  My phone buzzing wakes me. The time reads seven thirty-two, and I see Mom on the screen and pick it up. “Hi, Mom.”

  “He’s alive. And I guess he did call Heather but didn’t bother to tell his mother he has a girlfriend.”

  “She’s not a girlfriend yet. We’ve been out a couple of times.”

  “Is this Liz that David told me about?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I want details.”

  “Mom, you woke me.” I sit up. “And I’m supposed to be going to breakfast soon.”

  “With Liz?”

  “With the whole hiking group.”

  “Why didn’t you go hiking?”

  I rise and find a shirt in my drawer. “Because I pulled two fifteen-hour days.”

  “Well, you deserve to sleep in then.” My phone dings. “What’s that?” Mom continues.

  “A text. Can I call you later? And don’t read too much into this thing with Liz. It’s still really new.”

  Ending the call and then viewing my messages, I see the group is heading to a brunch spot five minutes from my place. I turn on the shower and wait for it to get hot while I shave. When I arrive at the café, everyone is seated.

  “Liz saved you a spot,” Josie calls as I reach the table.

  “Sweet.” I slide in the seat beside Liz, even though there’s an undertone of jealousy in Josie’s voice. “Good morning.” I smile at Liz and then greet the rest of the group. “How was the hike?”

  “They’re nicer now that it’s not sweltering,” Liz replies.

  “I don’t think it’s fair that you’re nicely showered, and we smell of sweat and dust,” Jeff pipes up.

  “Probably not, but you all don’t smell stinky to each other, just to me, so there’s that.”