Deepest Scars: A Being Me Stand-Alone Companion Novel

by Tricia Copeland

  Planning to work out, I order a small breakfast. The major topic is the next outing to Sedona in late September. Jeff turns to me. “You in?”

  “Not sure. I have a lot of stuff going on the next two months with the playoffs.”

  “That’s right. The D-backs are on track for the World Series, aren’t they?”

  “Fingers crossed.”

  After the meal, we chit chat outside, and I start saying my goodbyes. Liz appears to be enjoying socializing, so I text her as I walk to my car. WORKING OUT TODAY. PICK YOU UP AT 5?

  I drive to the gym, and by the time I get there, she’s replied.

  SOUNDS GOOD. LOOKING FORWARD TO IT.

  Spending four hours at the gym, I stop at the grocery store before heading home. Knowing Mom won’t leave me alone about Liz, I call Mom and give her our date plans for the evening.

  “That’s not a sweet romantic date,” she complains.

  I search through the bananas for a green bunch. “That’s what she likes to do.”

  “Okay, but make sure you’re nice.”

  “I’m always nice, Mom.” Finding some ripe tomatoes, I drop them in a bag.

  “I know. I did good.”

  “You did, Mom, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “Call me tomorrow and let me know how it goes.”

  “Mom,” I exclaim, “I’m twenty-five, even when I was fifteen I didn’t tell you about my dates.”

  “Okay, well, I love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Winding through the store, I pick up some sandwich makings and fresh bread. In the apartment, I put away my groceries, have a sandwich, clean up the place, and shower. I choose khaki shorts and a white polo shirt, figuring even if it’s a baseball game, I’m going to dress up a little. Next, I spread the shirt I got for her out on the bed. Realizing I should wrap it, I decide to stop at the drugstore on the way to her place. The whole gift bag thing seems the easiest, and I choose a basic red bag along with white tissue paper since it matches the shirt. Turning into her lot precisely at five, I take the stairs two at a time. Brad exits his apartment as I’m about to knock on Liz’s door.

  “Do you have like a surveillance camera, or something?” I ask him.

  “No.” He shrugs. “She told me you were coming at five.”

  “Okay.” I turn around to knock, and he retreats into his apartment.

  “Hi.” Liz opens the door wearing a red shirt and short jean skirt. She looks really good, and I force myself to focus on her face. “Did I hear voices?” she scans the hall.

  “Yeah, your resident body guard.” I point across the building.

  “He’s harmless. Come in. I need to get my shoes.” She motions me in and walks into her room. I stand near the door, bag behind my back. When she returns, she’s wearing tall sandals. They accentuate her legs and hips, and I’m already thinking about kissing her.

  She rolls her eyes as she reaches me. “I know. White legs, but I’ve had them all my life so I got over it.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir.” I hold out my arms.

  “I guess so.” She grabs her bag from the futon. “Ready?”

  “I got something for you.” I hold the bag out to her.

  “What’s this?” Taking the bag, she pulls out the tissue paper.

  “We get a discount, so I thought you’d like it.”

  Unfolding the shirt, she holds it up.

  “I noticed you usually wear high necks, so I figured the baseball style was a good pick. I hope I got the right size.”

  “This is so sweet.” She pushes up on her toes and kisses me on the cheek. “I’m going to put it on.” When she comes back, she spins in a circle. “This is so cute. I love it.”

  “It looks great on you.”

  “You don’t have to bring me something every time we go out.”

  I take her hand. “I like getting stuff for you.” Hand in hand, we walk down to my truck. I love the way she looks in the t-shirt, short skirt, and heels. She’s taller with the shoes, and I barely have to look down to talk to her. On the drive, we chat about the team and the game. Even though I didn’t take advantage of my team status with the tickets, I still park in the employee lot.

  “This isn’t cheating, is it?” I ask as I open her door. “Killing the whole nose-bleed section vibe?”

  “A little, but I’ll let it slide.” She smiles.

  We wind up to the top level. There’s no one else in the section, but we take our assigned seats in the center of the area.

  “This was a good idea,” I remark.

  “Told you.” She tilts her head and smiles.

  I stretch my legs over the seat in front of me and stretch an arm around her back. “Very relaxing.”

  The game starts, and we keep score. In between watching the game and marking in our books, we talk about high school and middle school.

  By the second inning, I’m hungry and flag down the hot dog guy. “You know you guys could move up, right? I mean no one’s coming, obviously.” He makes a point of scanning our section.

  “It’s nice up here. I’ll tip you extra if you can get a beer guy for us too.”

  “Works for me.” He jogs away.

  He’s back in two minutes with the beer guy, and we each get a beer and a dog. I don’t let her pay for anything, and she seems a little annoyed. “It’s a date. I should be paying. I let you get your part on Sunday.”

  “Because it wasn’t a date.”

  “You said before that there had to be driving and a meal for it to be a date. I picked you up, and we got a meal.”

  “There were other people. It was more like a meet-up.”

  “But I drove, and we ate.”

  “We didn’t do an activity.”

  “Now you’re requiring an activity?”

  “Yes, so the drive back from the canyon doesn’t count either.”

  I sit up and lean towards her. “I think it was a date. Doug called, and you were entertained by his sad, pathetic attempt to win Amanda back. We have to get this straightened out before it becomes our first fight.” I point at her. “Plus, you asked me for a ride, so there was asking, driving, one person buying the other food, and an activity.”

  She shakes her head, laughing, and her curls bounce around her face. “But we decided line dancing was the first date.”

  “Okay, dancing was the first date. That was better anyway because we kissed.”

  “It was a good date.” Her smile reaches her eyes, and they seem to sparkle in the lights.

  I continue, “Then, Sunday—”

  “No, Sunday was not pre-planned.” Wagging her finger, she stands and puts the other hand on her hip.

  I jump up. “Now, we have a planning requirement.”

  Her head falls back, and she laughs. “Yes, now you know all the rules.”

  “Okay, I see how this is going.” I pull her to me and hook my arms around her. “You’re always right, so this is our second date.”

  “Why is it so important which date it is?”

  “Because.” I sigh and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “There are rules, first-date rules, second-date rules. You get the picture.”

  “So, you can put your arm around me on a second date?”

  “Oh, definitely, especially since we had all those others that didn’t count.” I kiss her and jump back in case she’d planned on retaliating.

  “What besides the drive and last Sunday?”

  “Well, you spent the whole day with me last weekend.”

  “Cleaning bikes.”

  “Yes.” I hold a finger up with each point I make. “It was pre-planned, I drove, and I paid for the food. I think that was a date.”

  “But there wasn’t a formal asking, and I didn’t know it was a date, so it doesn’t count.”

  “Ack, woman.”

  “Okay, second date, forget that I had my arms around you.”

  “I sort of liked it.”

  “Well, good, because yo
u’ll like our third date then.”

  A loud cheer goes through the stadium, and we realize the Diamondbacks filled the bases and the at-bat hit a grand slam. Settling back in our seats, we pick up our score books.

  “I think we failed,” I tell her.

  She tosses the book over her head. “It’s more fun talking to you.”

  “So, for the record, this is our second date, and we had our first fight.”

  “Yep.” She smiles and takes a sip of her beer. Her blue eyes dance over the amber liquid, and I start to think I’m really falling for her. “So, how are Doug and Amanda?”

  “Typical Doug.” I roll my eyes. “Guy already landed on his feet.”

  “She took him back.”

  “Oh no, he hasn’t seen her yet. But, he has an apartment and a car. Planning some huge getting-her-back event I think. He’s trying to rope me into coming with. We sort of had a wingman thing before.” I tell her how he’s opening a new office for his company in Chicago.

  “Will Amanda take him back?”

  “No clue.” I shake my head and stare out at the field.

  “Would you take someone back that you lost trust in?”

  “I guess it depends on if I loved them. What do you think? You must’ve had a breakup. What would you do?” I’m glad the conversation went this way because we’d talked about my exes but never hers.

  She clears her throat and pats her chest. I realize this is her signature uncomfortable move as I’d seen her do the same thing talking to Josie. “Hard to know. If she still loves him, which it sounds like she did before, I think he’s going to have to earn her trust back.”

  “Not sure how you do that with anything but time.”

  “And that”—she smiles—“is why we are on our second date.”

  I want to know her history, but I’m not going to push her. Maybe it’s nothing big or noteworthy. I ask about why she chose Arizona, and we talk about our job searches. Hearing the seventh-inning-stretch music brings me out of our bubble. “Want to take a walk?”

  Placing my hand on her back, we walk to the restaurant area. Passing the batting cages, I point them out. “Ever tried that?”

  “No.” She shakes her head.

  “Want to?”

  “Sure.”

  There isn’t a long line. She insists I go first. I’m horrible at it and miss every ball, save one, which I foul. When she gets in the cage, I dial down the ball speed. She hits the first dead on, and her eyes grow large. Her head turns to face me, and she squints. “You reduced the ball speed. Crank it back up.”

  “Fine.” I roll my eyes but obey.

  By the end of the twenty pitches, she hits three more. “I was decent at that.” She smiles as she joins me.

  “You were awesome.”

  “And I found something you can’t do.”

  “Baseball was not my sport. Hockey, basketball, anything but baseball.”

  We talk sports and activities from school on our way back to our seats. The game is a blow out with the Diamondbacks way ahead.

  “So, would it be okay with your dad that you’re wearing a D-backs shirt?”

  “Oh, if he were dead, he’d be rolling over in his grave.” She clears her throat, lays her hand on her chest, and looks to the field.

  “Well, good thing we’re not on the D-back cam then.” I point to the screen as they’re showing shots of people in the crowd.

  She pulls her phone out of her pocket. “And it’s nearly midnight there. Lights out for him is eleven.”

  “I think we have to hide the evidence of our failed scoring.” I hold the book up.

  “Definitely.” She holds my gaze for a few seconds and looks back to the field. I wonder if there was something more she was going to say.

  When the game ends, we snake down the ramps to the bottom level and out to the parking lot. It’s still warm but not uncomfortable. I move my hand from her back, down her arm to her hand, and lace my fingers in hers.

  She smiles and looks down at our hands. “I like holding your hand. It’s not too huge.”

  “What? These fingers aren’t long and manly enough?” I hold my other palm in front of her face.

  “Oh my God.” She drops my hand and inspects my fingers. “You have crazy long digits.”

  “Basketball, baby.” I wiggle my fingers in the air.

  “I like basketball. We should play sometime.”

  “Definitely.” We discuss gym pluses and minuses. Reaching my truck, I try to think of something to prolong the date. “Would you like to get another beer, dessert, or coffee?” I ask as I open her door.

  “I can always eat chocolate.”

  I climb in my side and turn to face her. “So, pick your poison, cake, pie, muffins, ice cream?”

  “Ice cream, definitely.”

  “A woman after my own stomach.” I crank the truck and pull out of the space. The employees’ lot is an easy exit, and I wind back to Scottsdale using the surface streets. We pull into the ice cream shop, and the open sign goes off.

  “What?”

  “It’s eleven.” Liz points at the dash.

  “Oh, wow, okay, so plan B?”

  “We could eat ice cream on my porch,” she suggests.

  “That works for me.”

  Walking into the food store, we grab a couple of pints of ice cream.

  “You’re taking the extra home with you.” Liz taps my stomach.

  “We could keep them for next time.”

  “Please don’t tell me you already have a plan.”

  “Okay, I won’t. I’m not.” I look at her sideways. As I open her door, I close the space between us. “How does pizza and mini-golf sound?”

  “You just thought of that, right? Cause I’m not going if you already had this planned.”

  “No, it’s like in the guy handbook. First date is country line dancing, second is baseball, and third is mini-golf.”

  She rolls her eyes but kisses me. “Sounds perfect.”

  “I didn’t want you to accuse me of getting a yes on a chocolate high.” I hold the bag up as I round the car.

  At her apartment, we wind through to her balcony. It backs to the pool area. Not many people are out, and it’s quiet. She grabs some spoons and bowls from the kitchen, and I take a couple scoops of rocky road. She chooses the mint chocolate chip, and I make a mental note.

  I tap my leg to hers, and she smiles. “Do I get a mint kiss now?” I ask.

  “Yes.” She kisses me quickly.

  “So, what are you up to tomorrow? Are you riding in the evening?”

  “Yeah, I was planning on it. Other than that, only Mass.”

  “Did you find a church you like?”

  “Yeah, I don’t need much. Just a priest.”

  “I haven’t been to synagogue in a few weeks.” She yawns, and I take it as my cue. “Well, I would love to see you for anything really. Maybe we could meet up for a workout or basketball tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, that’d be fun. Let’s touch base by noon or so.” She opens her patio door and moves into the kitchen. Packing ice cream in the grocery bag, she hands it to me.

  “Thanks.” I hold it up and proceed across the living room to the door.

  Just before I reach it, I spin, let the bag drop to the floor, and move towards her.

  She smiles. “This your big move before it’s too late?”

  “Yes. I really like you.” I set my hands on her hips.

  She raises her head to look in my eyes. “I like you too.”

  “Good.” I lean in and kiss her, gently at first.

  She ends the long kiss with a quick peck. “Thanks for tonight.”

  “You’re welcome.” I smile. I could have kissed her all night, but I’m enjoying moving on her time frame.

  At my apartment, it’s hard to sleep thinking about Liz. I start planning dates in my head: mini-golf, bowling, safe wholesome activities that give us plenty of time to talk. With no sleep on the horizon, I do some internet searc
hing on San Diego. Beyond baseball, hiking, and biking, I have no idea what she likes. What are her favorite foods? Does she like animals? What is her favorite color? It’s late when sleep finally comes, and I blame the ice cream. Still, I’m up early and head to the apartment gym for a run.

  Next, I do some cleaning and call Mom. I’m vague about my relationship with Liz and get Mom talking about David, Dana, and Joshua as soon as I can. I text Liz at eleven thirty, hoping she’s in the mood to hang out.

  HI. GOOD MORNING. HOPE YOU SLEPT WELL. I start the message. WOULD LOVE TO HANG OUT IF YOU’RE UP FOR IT. HAVE MANY QUESTIONS. I go back and erase the last sentence, realizing it’s too much.

  She replies right away. ABOUT TO GET SOME LUNCH, WANT TO COME BY IN AN HOUR?

  SOUNDS GOOD.

  Even though I know we’re probably exercising, I shower. Packing my bag, and loading my bike on the rack, I still have half an hour to kill. I make a list on my phone of options for San Diego activities. At a quarter till, I jog down to my truck and drive the five minutes to her place.

  We spend a couple of hours at the gym and even get in a swim. She’s a strong swimmer, and I guess her stamina may outdo mine. I get in all my questions, and she teases me about being such a planner. We decide to try the cave kayaking, ferry to Coronado Island, La Jolla sea lion viewing, and Torrey Pines hiking. We grab a light dinner and meet up with everyone for the mountain bike ride.

  “So, this is looking more like a standing thing with you and Liz,” Jeff notes as I greet him.

  “Yeah, it’s going well. We’re having fun.”

  “Good for you. No more moping about, I guess.”

  “I wasn’t moping.”

  “You never looked exactly happy.”

  I shrug and fall in line behind him, wanting to test my skills a bit. Still, I can’t help watching for Liz. When I get to the bottom of the second hill, I see she’s stopped at the top. It’s a steep incline, but I push myself to slowly power to her.

  “I can’t believe you made that climb without killing yourself.” She greets me as I approach.

  “It’s definitely the hardest trail we’ve done. You okay?”

  “Yeah, the rocky terrain is messing with my head.”

  “Speed helps, forward momentum and all. Here, copy my path. You ready?”

  “Yeah.” She nods and slips on her helmet.