What Brings Me to You

by Loralee Abercrombie

  I was much, much too early parking the car at UT, but I was paranoid about being late. Everything had to be perfect. Still, the waiting was making me crazy. I was so strung out from the sheer anxiety of seeing her again that I had to do something to help me get a fucking grip. I ran up to a friend’s dorm and took a swig from the water bottle filled with tequila he kept hidden under his bed. Then another. Then another. It wasn’t smart, it definitely wasn’t safe even though was going to be walking, but I needed it. I needed something to calm my nerves.

  Charley agreed to see me. It was like the heavens had opened and God said, “You’d better not mess this up again.” I always wanted her to give me a second shot but until she’d agreed I didn’t think it was going to be in the cards for us. I didn’t give a shit, I took the bottle with me and sat at the bar at the Rath. I drank the tequila and chased it with beer until my hands quit shaking. I checked myself in the mirror over the bar again and again. I was drunk, or nearly drunk, but didn’t really look it other than the glaze over my eyes. At least from what I could tell in the condition I was in. Christ! Am I enough for Charley?

  I’d never been self-conscious but something about seeing Charley; her beautiful brown skin, her long, flowing tresses, her intense dark eyes, made me question everything including my appearance. I knew she didn’t care about that. Didn’t she? She told me once that physical appearance was only part of her attraction to me. She never seemed to mind how I looked, though she didn’t shower me with compliments about my body like most girls either.

  Because she wasn’t most girls. She was my Charley. My Charley who I was meeting in…

  Damnit! I was late. I couldn’t risk getting in the car for the five minute drive to the bar. I was totally gone; so I pushed away from the bar and started walking down the busy, main drag of Kennedy Boulevard toward Hyde Park. The sun, which in any other locale would’ve already been close to setting, was still illuminating the sky. It became quickly apparent that after all I’d had to drink, walking in the May-Floridian heat wasn’t doing anything for me. I was sweating profusely and I’m sure it smelled like Cuervo. Damn! Why couldn’t we live in a city that actually had some semblance of public transportation? I was contemplating calling for a cab service, or a buddy to drive me over when my phone trilled in my pocket. I hoped it was Charley telling me she was running late or to ask where I was, but I remembered she didn’t have a phone. The caller ID said the last name I ever had expected or wanted at that moment.

  Lacey.

  You.

  I didn’t want to answer it. It had been months since we’d last spoken in fact, the last time I saw you was the last time I saw Charley. Even with the uncertainty between Charley and I, what I felt and experienced with her was so much deeper than anything I had for you. I had finally allowed someone else to occupy the space in my head that you and the single-minded pursuit of a hook up used to fill. It was freeing and terrifying all at the same time. Sure the pleasure seeker in me was pissed that I was going after a “real” relationship, but I knew that I wasn’t really happy anymore just hooking up. I knew that, ultimately, I wanted a relationship like my parents; married twenty years to my best friend kind of thing. I wanted a woman, god I sound like such a pussy, but I wanted a woman like my mother; smart, sexy, independent. Charley had all of that and you had none. Not to me, not anymore, anyway.

  You only ever called me out of the blue to chew me out or get me off and I wasn’t in the mood for either from you. I clicked ignore and kept walking. Having seen your name sobered me up considerably so I picked up my pace putting distance between me and the University campus. My phone trilled again. And again. The fourth call wasn’t from you. It was from Claire. What? I ignored again though my interest was now thoroughly piqued. Whatever the so-called emergency (because you and Claire were famous for call-bombing about a foi gras shortage) I was not in the mood to hear it. The fifth call was the deal breaker. Mom lit up on the screen. Something serious had to be happening for all three of you to call me, and my curiosity got the better of me.

  “Yello!” I said when mom picked up, realizing too late there was a slight slur in my words.

  “Teddy-mouse, we…um…I need you honey.”

  “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  “Andy. He’s missing.”

  “What do you?”

  “He missing, sweetheart. He left in a rage two nights ago. Claire and Lacey haven’t seen him since. It’s likely he’s on another one of his benders, if so…it’s not good. They’re not even sure if he’s still in the state. We’re trying to get a hold of Mickey now for help, but it would be really helpful if you came over here.”

  “Mom, has anyone called the police?” Her hesitation was enough. No. No one was calling the police until the situation turned absolutely dire. There was no way Claire or especially you were going to potentially tarnish the public image of Andy Cramer, HCI CFO. It was then I realized how deep your love for HCI went, Lacey. I didn’t know at the time, and honestly sometimes still don’t know, if your love of HCI extended to your love for me or the other way around, but I didn’t care. I also didn’t realize that your willingness to keep Andy’s name out of the papers wasn’t in the best interest of the company, my family or even him. It was in yours. Even knowing all this and knowing that I’d be hurting the woman I loved, again, I had to go. My mother asked me to, there was no way around it.

  Fuck! I wanted to be with Charley. I wanted to finally see her and put all the bullshit behind us and have her. But this was inexplicable. I didn’t know her phone number, because she didn’t have a phone. Fuck! I tried calling the bar. No one answered. I tried a second and third time. Finally someone picked up but they couldn’t hear me and all I heard on the other end was a loud crashing noise. FUCK! Someone had to tell Charley that I wasn’t going to make it.

  I called Iris. Told her to warn Charley that I wasn’t going to be there. There was an emergency. She demanded to know what was the emergency that’d I’d stand up her daughter. Even under these circumstances, my loyalty to the Cramers, to you, ran deep. And Iris, shit, I couldn’t tell her anyway. Friends with mom and Claire? Husband, Paul Feinman? Oh no, if anyone was leaking the story of “unfit to lead” to Fortune it was going to be her. So I tersely informed her it was a private, family matter. She didn’t pry any further; I assumed because people in glass houses and all that shit, but she swore to do everything to get a hold of Charley. Goddamnit, I thought. Why she didn’t have a cell phone in the twenty-first goddamn century was beyond me.

  I hopped in the Jag and raced to mom, Claire and you. Mom was calming Claire down with a glass of wine. Claire was rambling on and on semi-incoherently, but very loudly, she’d obviously had more than just one glass of wine. Mom was doing her best to comfort her and she simply nodded her head in the direction of the stairs.

  I raced up the familiar steps to your room. I’d been in there countless times. I remembered when it was decked out in pink Barbie paraphernalia. Then when you got older you painted it yellow and green. I’d been in there to stack Legos while you played dress up, to read while you combed out your hair, to screw while we listened to a top forty station and told our families we were studying. We screwed around a lot in that room together throughout high school and some of college. It was strange being in there after Charley. Everything looked different. Skewed. Smaller, and in less detail. All your things were pristine but they seemed shabby compared to Charley’s tiny room and meager possessions.

  I uncertainly pushed open the door. You were sitting with your head hung in your lap at the edge of your bed. The sounds of Claire’s inebriated rants were echoing up behind me, which is what caused you to look to the door. When you saw me leaning against the doorframe, you seemed different. Your face was the same, but your eyes had softened. They looked closer to how I remembered them from when we were kids. You’d been crying.

  “Lace,” I whispered, clearing my throat because your vulnerability caught me off guard.

  “God
, where the hell could he be?” you sobbed. I walked over and sat next to you, placing a hesitant arm on your shoulders. You slumped into my side and cried all over the shirt I’d picked out just for Charley.

  “I don’t know, Lace. We’ll find him though, okay?”

  “What if…what if…”

  “Don’t think like that. We’ll find him.”

  “Thank you for being here. With me.” You said, looking up at me with those green eyes.

  “Yeah, Lace, I’m here.” She kept looking at me, waiting for me to say something like, “I’ll always be here” or some shit like that but it wasn’t happening. I was there kind of against my will and it was all of a sudden I felt trapped and claustrophobic and I felt the weight of what being there meant for Charley and me. It was eerily quiet in the room, even Claire and mom’s voices had vanished. Flee, I thought. I had to get out of there. “I’m going to get you some tea, okay?” I asked already making a move to extricate my arm from your shoulder and leave the room as fast as I could.

  “Teddy,” you sniffled. You’d grabbed me around my waist tighter then, looked up with bloodshot, lazer focused, green eyes, “don’t leave yet, okay?”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Lace.” I kissed the top of your forehead. A thoughtless and meaningless gesture at the moment, but it reminded me of how things with us used to be, back when I still liked you. Back when I thought you had a heart.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Charley

  Kelsey took Colin’s beater and dropped me off early to the bar. I wanted to find the perfect spot. One in the line of the band, but out of my father’s line of sight. I’d only seen him once, but he wasn’t hard to pick out. Apparently the small quartet of piano, bass guitar, drum and trumpet player did not preclude them from being racially unbalanced. He was the only black guy there. We were the only black people in the bar. I stood out even though I really did everything to try and fit in. I dug in my closet for the nicer items that I’d received on my excursion with Nancy. I’d settled on a pair of skinny black pants that hugged my hips, a flesh-toned silk shirt with a high collar and bow at the neck which exposed my shoulders, and my trusty black pumps. I borrowed a pair of pearl studs from Kelsey, the gold watch I’d purchased with Nancy and of course wore my pendant, Teddy’s pendant, around my neck. With my hair pulled into the same ponytail as the night-that-shall-not-be-mentioned.

  Teddy had said yes, he’d be there without hesitation. He even said how honored he was that I’d asked him to join, but really I was honored that he agreed. I didn’t know Teddy all that well, but I knew he did whatever he could to avoid situations like these; anything that could lead to potential drama. It was a testament to how deeply he cared for me, I knew that. Truthfully, I coulnd’t have anyone else with me but him. He knew the whole story, had seen everything, but more than that, I wanted to see the good man I knew Teddy to be in the same room as the horrible man that I had made my father out to be. I was the one who walked away from Teddy every time, not the other way around. Every man, even at that moment, Jaime, had walked out on me. Abandoned me. Teddy was different and that realization was comforting. I knew that we could make it work. That when I saw him, I’d run to him and tell him, finally tell him that I loved him.

  I love him. I love him. I love him. I said it over and over again to myself and tested the words out on my tongue. He’d accused me of being afraid to say it because I was afraid to let him in. The trouble was he was already in and I already felt it, I just couldn’t get past what it would mean once I broke the seal. After the time apart I realized, more than anything, that I wanted the levy of intimacy to break with him. Loving him made me better; made me feel whole. I knew that Teddy standing beside me would make me strong and give me the fortitude to introduce myself to my father as his daughter. I knew with Teddy beside me, he’d be proud.

  I checked my watch every few seconds and compared it with the analog clock next to the door. It was 7:15. Just relax, Charley, he’s probably stuck in traffic, I thought. Or he’s standing your ugly ass up, snipped Adam’s voice from the back of my mind. I blocked it out and focused on my father polishing the mouthpiece of his trumpet, casually conversing with his band mates. He wasn’t an altogether bad looking man. He was tall and reedy. Age, and I’m sure squalor, left his chest bird like and concave. He was a very dark black. The planes of his skin shone a bluish-grey in the light of the stage. The hair sticking out of his faded Kangol was greying, but not grey, he wore a small gold hoop in his right ear. You have his high cheek bones I thought, and his hands. I watched him make light conversation with people in the bar who I assumed were regulars. He never once looked in my direction. Maybe he knows, I thought. Maybe he knows who you are. Of course it was silly, but between seeing him up close for the first time and worrying about Teddy I had no choice; my mind went to an irrational place. Where the hell is he?

  The band began their set at eight. Teddy still hadn’t shown up. I listened to the jazz music. which was good, but too energetic to calm my nerves. It was nearing 8:30 and the band (Jim Beezy and the Jazz Cats, as I learned they were called) were slowing down. They began a soft sweet ballad that I recognized. My father used the trumpet as the voice instead of a singer. I closed my eyes against the tears that were forming from the irony of words of the song.

  I’ll be seeing you in all the old familiar places…

  Every limb in my body became heavy. Every second that went by I felt more and more crushed.Then, the door swung open and there he was.

  Jaime.

  I had no idea why he was there, I assumed he was with another girl but he was frantically searching the dimly lit bar from someone. Maybe he was meeting someone. I tried to make myself disappear but, besides my dad, I was the only black person in a sea of Wonder Bread looking folks. It was hard to miss me. It didn’t take him long to find me and I cursed under my breath as he purposefully walked to my side.

  “Hey,”

  “Hi…umm…what are you doing here?”

  “It’s kind of a long story, but the person you were supposed to meet can’t make it.” He had such a look of consternation on his face at my appearance and where I was. It should’ve been obvious to anyone that I was expecting to be on a date but it’s like he couldn’t really believe it. The way he said “The person you’re supposed to meet” made me think maybe he didn’t know.

  .“Oh. Do you know why?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, okay, why are you here, though?”

  “Your mom was on campus.”

  “My mom? You met her?” And I wasn’t there?

  “Said she was at some function across the street at the museum and hoped you hadn’t left yet. She was going to come all the way down here when we ran into each other.”

  . “You ran into each other? You’ve never seen her…”

  “There was an older, really nicely dressed lady leaving your dorm looking lost and distraught. I asked if everything was okay and she said she was looking for Charley. I told her I knew you and she told me she knew me.” Dammit.

  “Oh.”

  “She told me that she needed to pick you up but she had obligations across the way so I volunteered.”

  “Oh.”

  “You look really nice, Charley.”

  “Thanks. What were you doing outside my dorm?”

  “I was leaving the gym,” he answered without making eye contact.

  “Oh.”

  “Who were you here to meet?” I didn’t have an answer. I couldn’t tell him it was to meet another man. To meet the Teddy Holmes. Local, celebrity billion-heir. So I pointed to where the small ensemble band was setting up, instead.

  “He’s my dad,” I said barely above a whisper. The audience gently applauded the end of the song and the band started in on another slow one that I instantly recognized.

  And still those little things remain

  That bring me happiness or pain….

  Jaime snapped his head in the direction of the stage then b
ack to me, then back again to the stage. I’d told him a watered down version of the story of my life. He knew Paul wasn’t my father, that my mother and my real dad weren’t together but he didn’t know the extent to which I’d suffered because of it all. He didn’t know that this man had never laid eyes on me; at least not ever knowing that I was his daughter and he didn’t care to. That, just like Paul, I didn’t exist to him. That every man in my life had let me down. Had hurt me. Watching him play the ballad with an expression of beatitude, an expression that he’d never wear looking at or thinking about me, the tears stung my eyes and I started to shake.

  “Are you okay, Charley?” Jaime asked looking even more concerned. I wasn’t focused on him I was focused on the song. On the wailing of the trumpet my father played. Of the words of the song I remembered:

  These foolish things remind me of you…

  Jamie’s hand on my shoulder and the warmth emanating from it was my undoing. I clutched at his chest and sobbed into his shirt. I didn’t care I was making a scene, I just wanted to cry. To release everything I’d been holding in for so long. He enveloped me in his arms and let me ruin his shirt with my tears. I was still crying when he wrapped one arm around me and hustled me out of the bar to his Rover. We drove in silence back to the campus as my sobbing ebbed to a hitch in my breath. He pulled right up to the front of the dorm, not caring that he was illegally parked, rounded the hood as I remained curled into a semi-fetal position against the passenger door. He opened my door and scooped me into his arms. I went willingly with my head easily resting in the crook of his shoulder, arms draped around his neck. Everyone in the dorm knew him and knew that we were sort of together so they didn’t really question him as he carried me up to my room. As we were approaching the door, Kelsey was leaving. Seeing us she simply held the door open for him to enter and left, presumably, to gossip about what could possibly be wrong with me to Colin.

  He placed me easily onto my bed, sure to keep his hand behind my head. I rolled, instinctively to my side toward the wall. I just wanted to shut everyone and everything out. He wouldn’t let me shut everything out. Instead of slipping out of the room, he folded his massive body in behind me and protectively wrapped me up in his arms, like he could ward off the sadness with his proximity. I can’t say that it worked one hundred percent but it did help marginally. After I’d been stood up by someone who I had been so willing to let in, Jaime had my back. Literally, the feel of his broad, warm body pressed up against mine made it hurt less. Made me feel like maybe I hadn’t been abandoned by everyone. We stayed like that in my tiny twin bed silent except for my cries which were just a dull whimper.