Deepest Scars: A Being Me Stand-Alone Companion Novel

by Tricia Copeland

  “Sorry.” I let my sandwich drop into the wrapper. “The team hasn’t called yet. It’s driving me nuts.”

  That afternoon as I’m leaving work, I receive a call from an unknown number.

  “Hello?”

  “Zack Walters?”

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “This is Jack Houston with the Diamondbacks. Can you come in tomorrow to talk about a position with the team?”

  “Sure, what time?”

  “Let’s make it nine.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you then.”

  “Great, I’ll text you the room number.”

  He ends the call, and I’m stuck wondering if this means good news or bad. It seems late, or at least behind the timeline Carlos seemed to know. Maybe they want to keep me as a substitute. That’s okay, I guess. It’s better than nothing. I only worked two-thirds of the season this year, so it makes sense.

  I call Carlos. He seems to think it’s good that they’re seeing me in the morning. But he’s an eternal optimist, so I don’t get excited about too many of his opinions.

  The next morning, I dress in suit pants, jacket, white shirt, and a red tie. Liz gives me a thumbs-up when I text her a selfie. GOOD LUCK, she replies. TEXT ME AS SOON AS YOU’RE OUT OF THE MEETING.

  Having given myself plenty of padding on the time, I arrive fifteen minutes early. At ten till, I take the elevator to the top floor of the Diamondbacks office building at the stadium. I leave my name with Mr. Houston’s assistant and wait in a leather arm chair.

  At 9:02 a.m., a bald gentleman exits the inner office and heads straight for me. I stand as he approaches and offer my hand.

  “Mr. Walters.” He offers his hand.

  I shake it firmly. “Yes, Mr. Houston?”

  “Yes. Nice to meet you. Do you need coffee or water?” He motions to the food buffet.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Great.” He pats me on the back. “Let’s talk in my office.”

  I sit in one of the black leather chairs in front of his desk, and he takes the seat across from me. He lifts a tablet from his desk as well as a paper notepad.

  “So…” he glances up at me. “How was your year? Did you enjoy the season with the team?”

  “I did. It’s been a great learning experience.”

  “Good. How did you find the training? Too much, too little? Any feedback for us?”

  “I think the two-week mentoring program was a perfect time-frame. I was taught the routine and then gradually did more and more until I was ready to be on my own.”

  “Wonderful.” He looks to his device and taps on the screen.

  His eyes meet mine. “I’m not the one reviewing and rating your work. I’m the guy that makes the offers and passes the information along. The players and managers are impressed with you. We like your work ethic, style, and results we’re seeing from your work. You have a master’s degree, correct?” He hesitates.

  “Yes, sir. It’s good to hear that you value my contributions. I enjoy being part of this organization.” I hold my breath, waiting for the punch line.

  “Good. We’d like to offer you a permanent position on the traveling team. Do you know what that entails?”

  “Yes,” I say even though my brain feels a little foggy.

  He scribbles on the notepad, tears the sheet off, and holds it out to me. “This is our offer for the season. February through October. I need an answer by noon today and a contract signed by Monday, should you verbally accept the position. Can you make a decision on the timeline prescribed?”

  My pulse quickens as I realize this is exactly what I’d hoped for, but now I have Liz to think about. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” He rises, so I stand too. “Thank you for this opportunity.” I extend my hand to him.

  He lifts a business card from his desk and gives it to me. “Call this number and tell my assistant who you are. She’ll transfer you to me right away. I look forward to hearing your decision.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be in touch within a few hours.”

  He motions to the door, and I walk ahead of him into the outer office. “Great meeting you, Mr. Walters.” He pats me on the back. “I look forward to speaking with you soon.”

  “Yes, me too.” I offer my hand again and he shakes it.

  As fast as he releases it, he spins around and is out of sight in the blink of an eye. I scan the waiting area to see if someone else is waiting for a next appointment, but the office is empty.

  “Do you need your parking ticket verified?” the assistant asks.

  “No.” I raise my employee badge so she can see it.

  Her reactions seem normal, and I’m glad it’s not obvious that I’m freaking out. My appendages seem disconnected from my brain. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion. Still, I force myself to walk to the elevator. Inside, I push the button for the parking level. I bounce on my feet as it travels to the basement level. At my car, I finally decide to open the notepad page. Seventy thousand is underlined. “Yeah!” I shout and pump my fist into the air. Scanning the area for witnesses, I unlock my car and slide in.

  My mind reels as I grip the steering wheel. Three months ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I’d have said yes, right there and then, without even looking at the offer. While one side of my brain is celebrating, the other side wonders what this will mean for Liz and me. The team is on the road three to five days a week March through October. Can we survive that schedule? Does she even want to stay in a relationship like that? I wonder if it’s bad that the first person I want to tell isn’t Dad, Mom, even Doug. It’s Liz.

  I take a deep breath and text her. JUST GOT OUT OF THE MEETING.

  Reclining against the car, I wait for a reply. WOW, THAT WAS QUICK. GOOD NEWS?

  YES AND NO.

  ??

  CAN YOU TALK LIVE?

  GIVE ME A MINUTE.

  I get out and pace behind my truck, waiting for her call. The phone buzzes, and after a deep breath, I answer.

  “So?” Her voice lilts up in its sing-song tone.

  “I got offered a job.”

  “That’s great! Congratulations!”

  “But, it’s a road job. They offered me a permanent position on the road team.”

  “That’s still great, right? That’s what you thought would be next?”

  I want to talk to her face to face, but I doubt she can get away before noon. “Is there any way we can meet up before noon?”

  “I may be able to sneak away for a few minutes. Meet you in a stairwell maybe. What’s wrong?”

  “You’re important to me. I don’t want to jeopardize what we have. I could be away three to five days a week from March to October.”

  There are a few seconds of silence. “It wouldn’t be that much different than dating now. Plus, you’ll be like on vacation when you’re in town, so we can do whatever.”

  I exit my truck and pace beside it. “Our schedules may not match up.” I kick my tires, wondering if it’s too soon to include her in this decision.

  “We’ll make it work. Take the job.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Okay.” I rub my smooth chin. I want to say I love you, but I’m not going to say it over the phone.

  I end the call and dial Jack Houston’s number.

  “Mr. Houston’s office, how may I direct your call?” the female voice asks.

  “Mr. Zack Walters for Mr. Houston.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll connect you right away.”

  There are a few seconds of silence. “Mr. Walters, Mr. Houston here.”

  “Yes, sir.” I clear my throat. “I’d like to accept your offer.”

  “Wonderful, if you’d like to come in at noon, we can go over the contract.”

  “That sounds great. I’ll see you at twelve.”

  The contract looks like the one I signed earlier in the year, but my lungs are in my throat as I sign the papers. After the assistant makes copies for me, I tuck them und
er my arm and make my way down to the parking garage.

  At my car, I message Carlos. GOT A PERMANENT POSITION WITH THE TRAVELING CREW.

  THAT’S GREAT. I SAID YOU DIDN’T HAVE ANYTHING TO WORRY ABOUT. He replies right away. HEY, EVA AND I WANT TO INVITE YOU AND LIZ FOR THANKSGIVING DINNER. CAN YOU MAKE IT, SAY AROUND 7?

  MAYBE. I answer. I HAVE TO CHECK WITH LIZ.

  COOL. LET ME KNOW AND CONGRATS AGAIN.

  On the drive, I phone Mom and Dad.

  “That’s wonderful!” Mom exclaims. “What about Liz? What does she think? We didn’t get much time with her when you were here. Is she coming for Chanukah?”

  “No, Mom. She doesn’t have time off work. She’s going to see her family for Christmas.”

  “Christmas? What do you mean?” I hear a loud clamor as if she dropped a pot.

  “She’s not Jewish, Mom.”

  “Oh, I assumed.”

  “Abigail, you okay?” I hear Dad’s voice in the background.

  “I guess we never talked about it,” I offer.

  “I assumed because you said she played on your volleyball team at the JCC.”

  “Sorry.” I pull into my apartment lot and find a space.

  “Well, I guess I’ve still got Dana.”

  Exiting the truck, I shed my jacket. “Mom, we’ve only been dating three months.”

  “But you’ve never dated anyone Jewish since high school. I wish you would have gotten a job here. I thought with joining the synagogue you were at least trying.”

  “I met some people there. Like I said, we’re a long way from talking about marriage.”

  “Leave him alone,” I hear Dad comment.

  “Okay, well, I’m glad you got the job you wanted. I hate to think about you traveling so much, but you’ve always worked hard for what you wanted. I know this means a lot to you.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Say hi to Dad for me.”

  Ending the conversation, I hang my clothes in the closet. I think about my apartment and how it seems like sort of a waste now. I figure I’ll still pick up extra work when I’m home. If Liz is working, I figure I might as well. I change and head to the gym. Over two hours later, my phone buzzes.

  “Hey, there, are we celebrating?” Liz asks.

  “I don’t know. I guess.”

  “We should. Want to go out? Cook something? I could bring some food over to your place.”

  “Yeah, sure, that sounds good. What time?”

  “I’m leaving work now, so maybe six?”

  “Sure, see you then.”

  Just before six, there’s a knock at my door. I open it to a herd of balloons. “What’s this?”

  Liz hands me a bottle of champagne. “I didn’t know if guys liked flowers, so I got balloons.”

  “Totally not necessary, but thank you. They’re great. It’s really nice of you to do this.”

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be getting beers with your friends?”

  “I’m doing that tomorrow. Everybody already had stuff for tonight.”

  “So, I was second choice?”

  “No, no, not at all. You were the first person I called. Everyone else was like, man, that’s great, I would take you out, but I’ve got plans. This is wonderful.” I lift the bottle of champagne. “I’m starving.” I lean down and kiss her.

  We open the champagne and heat the garlic bread. After the meal, we take a walk on the trail around my complex. In my apartment, I back her to the door and kiss her. My mind wanders to the I-love-her thought I’d had earlier in the day.

  “Are we that lame couple that never goes out?” she asks as the kiss ends.

  “No, we’re totally going out tomorrow. Where do you want to go? Dancing?”

  “I thought you were going out with your friends.”

  “We’re playing basketball and getting a beer for happy hour. I’ll be home by six.”

  “Maybe we could cook dinner and watch a movie.”

  “Yeah, about that.” I take my plate and head to the sink. “How would you feel about Thanksgiving at Carlos’s?”

  “I thought we were going to John and Isabelle’s.”

  “Carlos’s is later.” I shrug.

  “You want to do both?”

  “Sort of.”

  “I think you’re more social than me.” She hands me another plate for the dishwasher. “But whatever you want is fine.”

  “If you don’t want to go, it’s not a big deal. We don’t have to, or I could go alone.”

  She squints, and I recognize her thinking face. “No.” She takes my hand. “They’re your friends, and I’d like to get to know them better.”

  “Great.” I scan the kitchen. We load the rest of the dishes in the washer and take a bottle of wine to the living room. I fill her glass as we sit down. “Movie?”

  There’s a new spy thriller out, and we start the show. She snuggles in beside me, head on my chest. I’m distracted by her body being against me, but I pay attention as best I can. Halfway through, she stops the program.

  “Want to take a break, stretch our legs, and have some dessert?”

  “Sure.” I stand and lift my arms over my head.

  In the kitchen, she slices a piece of cheesecake for both of us, and we settle on the couch again.

  “This is my favorite dessert,” she says and finishes her first bite.

  “Good to know.” I smile at her.

  “What’s yours?”

  “Key lime.”

  “Interesting choice. I’ll have to remember that for next time.”

  After finishing our desserts, I start the movie again. As it ends, we have a good session of kissing. I keep wondering if I should ask her to go further. She seems into me but always stops me when my hand wanders under her shirt.

  “I can’t believe we have this marathon Thanksgiving thing,” Liz exclaims as I open the truck door for her.

  “You can back out. No judgment.” I hand her a pie as she slides in the seat.

  “No, it’s going to be great. It’s been too long since we’ve seen everyone. Eva and Carlos were so nice before.”

  Closing the door, I wind round to the driver’s side. We’ve got an apple pie and wine for Jeff’s place and flowers, mini pumpkin cheesecakes, and another bottle of wine for Carlos’s place. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and my stomach gurgles.

  “Was that your stomach?”

  “It was my abs crunching in pain after my awesome workout.”

  “Shut up.” She slaps my arm. “Some of us had to be up early to work.”

  “Well, I had to be up early to work out to look hot for my woman and bake all this stuff for tonight.”

  Her eyes cut to me. “You have such a hard life.”

  “Hey, I’m working all weekend.”

  “Which is fine, because I’m shopping all weekend.”

  “Really? Did I know this?”

  “It’s Black Friday. Isabelle, Beth Ann and I are going. It’s the first time I can afford to get things for my family. Plus, my sisters, Mom, and I always go, so I kind of miss them.”

  “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen them.”

  “I video chatted with them at lunch. They think I’m making you up.”

  “I met Luis. He’s not vouching for you?”

  “He’s not good with details, so they don’t rely on him for valid data.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” I find a spot across from Jeff’s and parallel park.

  When I open the door, she hands me the pie. “Mom invited you to come for Christmas.”

  “Really?” I wrap my hand around hers and squeeze. “Do you want me to come? I might be in the way of your time with your family.”

  She shakes her head. “Yeah, I’m not sure why I told you that. I wasn’t sure I wanted to invite you. Is that horrible?”

  “I’m not offended. It’s been six months since you’ve seen your family.”

  “What are you going to do for Christmas? Seems like everyone is leaving town.�
��

  “I’m Jewish.” I look at her face as I park the car. “It doesn’t matter to me. I was planning on working. Pay is double for holidays. Plus, it’s an easy day. Not many PT clients.”

  “Sorry.” She shakes her head. “I keep forgetting. It’s such a foreign concept for me. Maybe we should, like, learn each other’s religions. I’d like to go to synagogue with you sometime.”

  “Really?” We reach the porch, and I stop before we ascend the stairs to their door.

  “Yeah. I mean, I don’t really know anything about Judaism.”

  “That’d be cool. Okay, we doing this?” I cock my head to the entrance.

  “Yep.” She spins and climbs the stair to the door. “Thanksgiving, part one.” She winks at me.

  I smile at her, thinking it’s nice to have a person. Jeff greets us at the door along with the smell of turkey and spice.

  “Hi, guys!” He steps back to let us in.

  I hold the bottle of wine out to Jeff. “Thanks for the invite.”

  “Yep.” He cocks his head to the back of the house. “Isabelle is in the kitchen.”

  I follow him through the kitchen and put the pie with the other desserts. We make our way outside, where Jeff is deep frying a turkey.

  “Wow, this is impressive. How long does it take?” I ask him.

  “Couple of hours. It’s coming out in fifteen minutes, so you guys are right on time.”

  We hang out and watch Jeff pull the bird from the splattering oil. After it cools for a half hour, we serve our plates and find seats around their large table on the patio. It seems weird to be eating Thanksgiving dinner in the backyard, but it’s sunny and seventy, so it’s perfect weather. I notice Liz seems relaxed with the group now, and I think how I like the relationships I’ve built here.

  It’s half-past six when Liz motions to me and taps her wrist. I give her a thumbs-up, and we say our goodbyes.

  “That was fun,” Liz comments as we walk to the car.

  “Yeah, it’s a great group.”

  “It’s so cool how John hangs out with you guys. It seems like priests are always stuffy old guys.”

  “I don’t even know what church you go to.”

  She describes her parish and how it seems hard to get to know people as I open the truck door for her. “Of course, it doesn’t help that I have a boyfriend and miss all the young people stuff because I’m hanging out with you.”