Not Broken Anymore

by Tawdra Kandle

  My heart began to thud, and my palms went sweaty. “I don’t quite know. On one hand, I miss him so much. I want to see him. But on the other, I’m scared about messing it up again. What if I see him and then I realize it’s too soon? Do I have to break his heart again?”

  “I don’t think anyone would expect you to leap right back into the middle of a relationship with Tate, Gia. There’s such a thing as moderation and pacing, you know. You could see him and then let things happen from there. If he’s half the man you claim he is, I think he’d be supportive and patient.”

  “I guess. Maybe.”

  Darla narrowed her eyes. “What’re you honestly afraid of, Gia? Let’s get real here. What scares you about the idea of being with Tate again? Beyond just seeing him, what freaks you out about the thought of building a future with him?”

  I thought about that for a minute. I wasn’t worried about how Tate would treat me. He wasn’t Matt—I’d known that from the beginning. He always showed me support, respect and undeniable love. I remembered what he’d said that last night, that he’d wished he’d told me earlier that he loved me. The truth was that Tate had showed me every single day, with every action, touch and word, that he loved me.

  No, it wasn’t Tate who scared me. But I thought I knew now who did.

  “I’m afraid I’ll hurt him . . . again,” I whispered. “I’m afraid I’ll take his love for me and twist it. Ruin it.”

  Darla was silent for a moment. “When you first came to see me, Gia, and we talked about Tate and Matt, I wondered if you’d ended your relationship with Tate because you saw him as another Matt. It’s not unusual for women who’ve been in abusive or difficult relationships to subconsciously recreate those situations. But I realized before too long that you weren’t afraid that Tate would treat you the same way Matt had.”

  The truth flooded through me. “I’m afraid that I’m Matt,” I murmured. “I’m the one who is dysfunctional and broken. That’s why I have the same power to destroy Tate that Matt had to wound me.”

  Darla let me soak that in before she went on. “If that’s true, if that’s your perception, what have you done to make sure you don’t repeat Matt’s mistakes?”

  I lifted my eyes to hers. “I didn’t stay there, in the pain and the brokenness. I came to see you. I listened to Zelda, and I made the choice to get better.” My voice grew stronger. “I want to be whole again so that my life doesn’t end the way Matt’s did. I want to be happy, and I want to hope again.” I managed a smile. “I want to be with Tate, but this time, I’m going to be with him because I’m choosing to be there. I don’t want to be the needy one. I want to be an equal partner. I want to live my life with him.”

  Darla clapped her hands together once. “And you know that’s possible now, don’t you? So could it be that it’s time to reach out to Tate?”

  “Maybe.” I still erred on the side of caution. “I’m not sure. But I could start by just texting with him, couldn’t I?”

  “You make contact however you feel comfortable doing it,” Darla agreed. “Just don’t stay in that place too long. Begin by texting, and then maybe move onto a telephone call. Once you’ve done that, I think you’ll realize how much you want to see him in person. Don’t let fear rob you of that desire. You can do this, Gia. You’re an incredibly resilient young woman. Grab hold of that restlessness now and make it work for you.”

  I’d come home from my appointment with Darla filled with enthusiasm and resolved to message Tate that day. But then I’d realized that the coming weekend was Philadelphia’s opening game at home, and although I hoped Tate would be happy that I texted him, I didn’t want to do anything that might throw off his mojo for the big game.

  I could wait a few more days. I wasn’t going to chicken out; to keep myself accountable, I told Zelda my plan to text him after the game.

  “If you reached out to that boy now, he’d probably float up and down the field this weekend,” she shot back at me. “He’d burn up the other team.”

  I smiled, and my heart swelled with hope. “You might be right. Still, I don’t want to upset his routine. I’ve waited this long—a few more days won’t hurt.”

  On Sunday, Tuck came over to watch football with us. Although we’d been friends since our freshman year in college and I’d always liked him, I’d gotten to know Eli Tucker much better over the past months. He was a sweetheart, funny and wryly self-deprecating at times, and in spite of all the challenges he’d faced since his spine had snapped on a high school football field in his senior year, he was a genuinely kind person who always treated me with patience and deference. I couldn’t imagine how difficult it must have been for him to sit and watch the game still, knowing he’d never be out there playing.

  We flipped back and forth between the Richmond Rebels game and Philadelphia playing Dallas, although I was impatient every time we weren’t watching Philly. I didn’t want to miss a single glimpse of Tate. I’d spotted him early on the sidelines; although I knew his jersey number, I would’ve recognized him even without it, by the way he moved and stood. That body that had loved me so well still looked damn good.

  Zelda must have been reading my mind, because she slid me a glance, her eyebrows raised. “Holy fuck, G. Did Tate look that good when we knew him in college? I can’t believe I didn’t hit that back then.”

  Sitting next to her on the sofa, Tuck rolled his eyes and kissed her cheek. “Don’t hold back on my account, honey. I’m just sitting here, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She winked at him, cheeky and sassy as she always was. “I’m not saying I’m going to try to hook up with him now. I never messed with guys who were in love with someone else, anyway. I had standards. Besides, as long as you keep satisfying all my needs, I’m not planning on going anywhere. I’m a reformed rake, remember?”

  “You better be.” He gave a mock growl and nuzzled her neck, and Zelda laughed, hunching up her shoulders to fend him off.

  They were sickeningly cute, and I loved to see them so happy, but it also made my heart hurt. I was ready now to be that couple. I wanted to make other people sick with how sweet Tate and I could be together.

  Tuck changed the channel again, back to the Richmond game. “Look, there’s Leo. He’s got to be pumped that he’s starting today. Did Quinn know?”

  “I don’t think so.” I shrugged. “She didn’t say anything when Zelda and I drove her to the shore last month.” The two of us had surprised Quinn at the airport the day she’d flown home from San Francisco. Since her mother was still away, traveling with the infamous Shane the dry cleaner, as Quinn archly called her mom’s new boyfriend, we’d driven her to their home at the shore, where she’d taken some down time before heading to Virginia to see Leo.

  I’d enjoyed seeing my friend again; I’d missed her. However, I’d been careful to keep up a steady flow of chatter all the way there, and I’d refrained from mentioning anything about my failed relationship with Tate. I wasn’t ready to go there yet. Not with Quinn.

  “No one would’ve known who was starting back then,” Zelda pointed out. “Ah, damn commercials. Take us back to Philly, please, Eli.”

  Tuck complied, and just like that, the screen was filled with Philadelphia players, moving down the field.

  “That’s number thirty-six, the running back who just rushed for eight yards,” the announcer covering the Philadelphia game intoned. I jerked my attention away from Zelda and Tuck back to the screen in time to see a replay of Tate maneuvering his way down the field between Dallas players.

  “This is his first game for Philly,” the other announcer remarked. “Tate Durham. He’s actually a local boy, played high school ball for Gatbury before he went to Carolina. He rode the bench most of last season up in New York, but he’s looking good today.”

  “He’s a big guy, Merle,” the first one added. “Let’s hope he has a long and successful career here.”

  I clapped my hands, almost squeeing in my delight. “Did you hear that?
They were talking about Tate.”

  “We all heard it, G.” Zelda smiled at me indulgently. “Geez, you’d almost think you liked the guy or something.”

  I stuck out my tongue at her, but what she’d said left me feeling a little empty inside. I didn’t really have any claim on Tate. I wasn’t his girlfriend or even his friend anymore. I was back to being just an acquaintance, another fan girl sighing over the hot football player. And who knew whether or not he was seeing anyone now? I’d been counting on the fact that he’d meant what he said, that he’d wait for me, and he’d asked Leo to pass on a similar message. But things changed, and how crazy was it for me to expect him to stay single on the off-chance that I’d get my shit together and want a relationship again?

  Suddenly, I wished I’d sent him a message earlier. At least then I’d know the truth. I wouldn’t be sitting here wondering.

  “Yes!” Tuck shouted, and I looked back at the screen as Philadelphia scored, the receiver catching a beautifully thrown pass into the center of the end zone. The camera focused on the team congregating down the field to congratulate the guy who’d scored, and I saw Tate again, smacking his teammate on the back and turning to another for a high five.

  God, I wanted him. It was a sudden and visceral need, as though I longed to reach though the television and touch him. But it was more than just a physical desire; I wanted to hear him call me those ridiculous terms of endearment, and I wanted to see his dimple appear when I rolled my eyes and he laughed at me. I wanted to lie in bed and have long talks about books and television shows and our childhoods. I wanted to sit on the front porch of his boyhood home with Pops and watch Tate do yardwork, winking at me saucily when he caught me staring.

  I wanted to go to sleep in his arms, with his lips pressed against my hair, and wake up to the feel of his fingers stroking over my skin. I wanted to listen to the deep rumble of his voice as he murmured his love to me. And more, I wanted to see the expression on his face when I told him how much I loved him and that I was never going to let him go again.

  “You okay, G?” Zelda frowned at me. “You’re all flushed, and you look like you’re about to cry. Cheer up. Both Philly and Richmond are winning. Oh, and look there! I think I just saw Q in the stands, when they panned over the family seating area. How cool is that? I need to text her.”

  “Really cool,” I muttered, but I was distracted by the clock on the corner of the screen. Tuck had just flipped back to the Philadelphia game, and the time remaining told me how long I had to wait before the game was over and I could safely message Tate.

  I had a feeling it was going to be the longest three quarters of football I’d ever seen.

  “Now that’s what I call an afternoon of excellent football.” Zelda stood up, twisting to stretch her back. She gazed down at me, smirking a little. “Eli, what do you say we go out and get some dinner? I’m craving Mexican.”

  “I could go for an enchilada,” Tuck agreed. “Gia, you coming with?”

  “No.” Zelda spoke quickly before I could answer. “She’s got plans.”

  “She does?” Tuck sounded shocked as he looked my way. “You do?”

  “Yes, I do. I guess.” I shot him an annoyed glare. “You don’t have to act so surprised. It’s not like I never have plans.”

  “Uh, Gia, you know, I love you like the sister I never had, but you almost never leave the apartment unless you’re going to work or school.”

  “That’s not true. Sometimes I go to the grocery store,” I defended myself. “But Zelda’s right. I have to do something now, and I need to be by myself to do it.”

  Tuck’s eyebrows shot up, and Zelda smacked his shoulder. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Sheesh. Do you always have to boil something down to its basic sexual premise?” She shook her head.

  “Says the pot to the kettle,” Tuck muttered, but I didn’t miss the twinkle in his eye.

  “Good luck, G. And don’t you dare chicken out, or I’ll come back and smack the fuck out of you. Got it?” Zelda looped her purse over her shoulder as Tuck deftly transferred from the couch to his wheelchair. His muscled arms bulged as he moved his body, and I smothered a little sigh of appreciation. The guy was undeniably hot. Zelda was a lucky girl.

  “Understood, and I promise I won’t chicken out. Pinky swear.” I wiggled my littlest finger.

  “Don’t get too wild and crazy here, G.” Tuck waggled his eyebrows at me. “Want us to bring you back a taco?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll just eat the leftover pizza from last night.” I was anxious to get them out so I could focus on my next move.

  “Seriously? You’re passing up tacos for cold pizza?” Tuck apparently was more worried about my eating habits than I was.

  “Eli, leave her be. G, good luck. See you later.” She grabbed the arm of the wheelchair and began to drag him toward the door.

  Once Tuck and Zelda were out of the way, I picked up my phone and with fingers that weren’t quite steady, I began to compose my message to Tate.

  The first one was ridiculous.

  Hi, Tate. Great game today! Was wondering if you’d want to meet up some time.

  “Ugh.” I half-gagged. “I sound like I want to sell him life insurance.”

  Tate—I watched your game today. You looked so good out there. I was thinking maybe we could get together.

  “Translation: you’re still super-hot, and even though I was stupid enough to break up with you, I want your bod. Let’s hook up.” I shook my head. “Nope. No good.” I should’ve made Zelda stay and help me with this. Clearly, I was an abject failure when it came to writing a heart-felt and yet pithy message.

  “Fuck it.” I took a deep breath and tapped my thumbs over the keyboard.

  Hi, Tate. I saw your game today. You played so well—congratulations on the win. I was proud of you. I know this is out of the blue, but I wanted you to know I was thinking of you. I was wondering if maybe, someday, you’d want to get together and talk. If you don’t want to see me, I understand.

  Hmmm. It was still a little stilted, but then again, this was a text. Maybe this was the best I could do, under the circumstances. My finger hovered over the send button, but before I hit it, I added one more line.

  I miss you.

  This time, I didn’t hesitate to send the message.

  For five minutes, I sat with the phone in my hand, staring down at it expectantly. When nothing happened, I reasoned with myself, coming up with excuses.

  He’s probably still getting showered and changed after the game. And they might have a meeting or something. Or maybe he had to talk to the press.

  Another ten minutes passed, and still no response.

  Ten minutes after that, the phone buzzed, and I snatched it up like it held the answers to all the mysteries of the universe. Disappointment filled me when I saw Zelda’s name.

  Did you send it already?!?

  I tapped out a reply. Yes. He hasn’t answered.

  A few seconds later, she responded. Give him time, G. Don’t freak.

  That made me roll my eyes. I wasn’t freaking out. Not by a long shot. I was just sitting here, watching the post-game show—oh, wait, no, it had moved on to the evening news. But that was okay. I was keeping current on world events . . . while staring at the screen of my phone, which remained maddeningly blank.

  The news ended, and some boring local program came on. I clicked off the television and wandered into the kitchen, where I heated up a slice of pizza and sat at the table, picking at it half-heartedly.

  My phone still didn’t buzz or light up.

  I cleaned up from my dinner—which took about two minutes, even with wiping down the counters, which were already pristine. It was beginning to dawn on me that maybe Tate wasn’t going to answer my message.

  I wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers up so that I could wallow in my misery, but I knew that was a step backward. Yes, I wanted another chance with Tate, and yes, he was important to me. But my health and wholeness, and
the journey I’d been on to get here—that was for me. I wasn’t going to give up and go back to the way things used to be.

  So instead, I left my phone on my dresser and indulged in a long, hot bubble bath. I forced myself to stay in the water until I was wrinkled, and then I carefully smoothed moisturizer onto my face, cream all over my body, and pulled on my comfiest cotton sleeping shorts and tank top. I walked slowly back to my bedroom, telling myself in one breath that it didn’t matter whether or not Tate had answered me and in the next breath that if he didn’t, there was definitely a reasonable explanation.

  I hung up my towel and moseyed over to the dresser, took a deep, calming breath and looked down.

  Message from Tate

  My heart stopped and then jumped. I always thought that was just a figure of speech, but I could actually see the thumping under my tank top. He’d answered me.

  It took two tries before I managed to swipe the screen to open it. But when I did, the waiting, the nerves and the uncertainty were all totally worth it.

  Gia, getting this message meant more to me than winning the game. I don’t want to come on too strong and make you second-guess contacting me, but I definitely want to see you. Give me a time and a place, and I’ll be there.

  I miss you, too. So very much.

  It was so Tate. I could almost hear him saying the words, and I grinned in pure happiness as I held the phone against my chest.

  Suddenly hope was something real and tangible, and the future wasn’t something I feared or dreaded. The lightness was odd and unfamiliar, but this time, I embraced the feeling.

  This time, everything was different.

  “Son, you’re jumpier than a tick on a griddle.” Pops glared at me from his seat at the kitchen table. “I don’t think you were this nervous before your first game with the pros.”

  I kicked at the table leg. “I didn’t have this much at stake with that game. This—today—is everything. And what the hell are you talking about, a tick on a griddle? Have you been watching westerns again? You always start talking like the camp cook after you binge on them.”