Marilyn Grey - [Unspoken 06]

by When the City Sleeps (epub)

  "You sure?" She met me in front of the car. "Because I have some news."

  "What? No, don't tell me." I walked toward her house and she trailed behind, her keys jingling at her side. I reached the door and turned back to her. "What? Tell me."

  She looked around. "You came without flashing lights this time."

  "Give it a day or two." I glanced at the door, then back to her. "Are you gonna tell me?"

  "I found a clue."

  "What? How? You lawyers scare me."

  "Come in," she said, unlocking the door. "I'll show you."

  Wow. She really changed the place. Funny how she and I both ended up with a lot of money in two totally different ways. After talking about the new decor for a few minutes, she led me to the couch where we sat together.

  “Wow, London. You're stuff is fancier than mine."

  She shrugged. "I like it." Placing a book in my lap, then another, she smiled and pointed. "Page 32 in this one. Page 41 in this one."

  "Yearbooks?"

  "I asked the local schools for records of kids who left around that time period. Came up with these two who look similar to your picture. Get it out so we can compare them."

  I reached into my purse. "I'm nervous."

  "I'm excited." She tapped my knee. "Come on."

  I pulled out my keychain and compared the two images. "I guess he could be either of these two, kinda hard to tell." I shoved the books to the couch and sighed. "Who am I kidding? This is ridiculous."

  "It is ... but it's fun."

  "No. No. I'm done. I'm not doing this."

  "I was able to track both of these guys down. Don't have their phone numbers, but I do have their addresses. You may even be able to find them on Facebook."

  I looked at his picture again. "What if he doesn't remember me and thinks I'm nuts? Even worse, what if it's not either of those guys but one of them lies because they know who I am?"

  "Do you want to try?" She handed me a sheet of paper. "If so, here are the names and addresses."

  "I'll think about it." I hid the paper in my purse without looking at it. "I can only imagine what the media would do if they discovered this. Crazy Nora just got crazier. Stalker gone mad."

  She stood. "I've got a girls night planned for us tonight. Let's go get comfortable."

  "What about your dad?"

  "He's fine. Surgery is next week. It's a preventative surgery because of his arteries and the risk of a major heart attack." She walked me to my room which was as nice as many of the fancy hotels Spencer took me to. "Make yourself at home as usual and stop living your life based off of what tabloids will say."

  I laughed. "Thanks."

  Easier said than done, I thought to myself as she closed the door and called out, "Take a jacuzzi bath and relax. Meet me downstairs in an hour. Comfy jamas required."

  Some things never change. She called pajamas "jamas" since we met. Probably since she was three. I liked those endearing child-like qualities in her. As mature and sophisticated as she looked in a courtroom, beneath all of it she was still the little girl I played Barbies with.

  I took my bath with plenty of bubbles, remembering the times when London and I took baths together, before it was too weird to do. I tried to read a book, but couldn’t focus, so I got into some comfy jamas and met London downstairs. We watched Letters to Juliet and talked until midnight, when I began to check my phone incessantly.

  "You, uh, you expecting a late night chat?" London stretched and stood.

  I shook my head and stood beside her. "What do you want to do tomorrow?"

  "Figure out why you just ignored my question."

  CH. 9 - Sawyer

  Unfortunately for me the Internet had one too many videos and articles about that mistake of an interview I did years ago and also unfortunately for me I couldn't convince myself not to watch them again. So I watched, then got agitated with myself, then went back outside to my shop and finished a huge order of custom sticks for a local junior hockey team.

  On Wednesday's I always tried to visit my brother, but I skipped this week after what happened last time. Danielle and I spent the night overlooking the Baltimore harbor instead, while cracking open crabs and dipping them in buttery garlic sauce. We had a good time and her looks intoxicated me every time, but it had been a while since I talked to Nora and I found myself distracted with thoughts of her. I'd hammer a crab leg and want to ask her if she liked crabs. Eventually Danielle caught on and touched my hand. I avoided eye contact, but then it hit me. Maybe thoughts of Nora only distracted me because I suspected Danielle was still seeing other guys and didn't want to get too into her. Not that I'd get hurt, it'd take a hell of a lot more to hurt me, but I'd be let down, I guess.

  "Sawyer, what's going on?" she said with concern in her tone.

  I could've opened up about my brother or my parents or the letter I just got from Coach Jennings. I could've been honest and told her it bothered me that she was still seeing other guys, but ... jerk that I am ... I said, "What's it to you? Don't you have someone you'd rather be screwing right now?"

  It wasn't like me. The me I wanted to be. It was Sawyer Reed, hockey star, arrogant self-centered imbecile who hid weaknesses and failures behind manufactured cockiness.

  She stared at me, wide-eyed. I shook my head and apologized, surprised that she didn't run off in a blaze of anger.

  "Does it bother you that I'm seeing other guys?" she said. "I didn't know what we had was serious or ever would be. You don't have the greatest track record, you know?"

  I nodded. "I'm well aware of that, but did anyone ever think for once that the media might just twist things a little bit?"

  "Sawyer, never has a hockey player been so in the spotlight as you were and every magazine cover had a different girl around your arm each week."

  "What they don't tell you is when the girl around my arm was my best friend’s sister, who has felt like nothing more than a baby sister to me. Or the girl I'm hugging is my friends fiancé after their rehearsal dinner where I wished her a great future." I slammed my hand on the table, then mouthed an apology to those around me. "Magazines that make their money off of gossip probably aren't the best source for truth."

  She crossed her arms and turned her attention toward the window.

  "Haven't you heard the Michael Jackson song, Tabloid Junkie?”

  She shook her head without looking at me.

  "Just because you see it on a TV screen or read it in a magazine, doesn't make it true." I stood. "If you can't see the truth while sitting in front of me then you'll never see it." I flicked two hundreds onto the table and walked away.

  When I sat in my car I pulled the letter out of my wallet and unfolded it.

  Sawyer, I know you've been through a lot, but I'm coaching for the Bruins again and I want you. I know you still got what I need to get this group of guys to make it to the top. Just one practice, that's all I'm asking. Two weeks from now. Saturday. You know where.

  -Coach J

  I reread the thing fifteen times a day. I couldn't say yes, but couldn't say no either. My age increased every day and you don't get better at sports as you age. You get better in some ways, but the body can only take so many hits before breaking down. If I wanted to play again, now was the time, but the game presented itself with a lot of things I didn't want to deal with. I hated that about it.

  Danielle tapped on my car window and asked if she could get in the car. Of course I let her, but we drove to her place in silence. She leaned on the window after getting out and said, "I'm sorry. You're a great guy, but I'm simple. This isn't right for me."

  I understood and attempted to smile. She waved, tapped the doorframe, then walked away. I almost told her to stop, but drove away instead.

  She thinks she’s simple? I thought. Wonder what she thinks I am.

  As usual, I couldn't sleep. Wasn't in the mood for movies or TV, didn't feel like going outside, and I've never been one for reading, so I watched the shadows on my bedroom ce
iling until the digital clock glowed a neon 12:00. Of course I thought of Nora, wondered what she was doing and if she would want me to call. She never called or texted me. It had been a few days since our last talk and I wasn't sure if my voice would be welcome, so I blinked at her number on my phone screen and waited.

  At 12:15 I finally sat up and propped myself up with a ton of pillows, then called. No answer.

  Disappointed, I held the phone in my lap and leaned back. Within seconds, I was asleep. The phone rang and woke me up. 12:34. "Sorry," she said. "I'm at my friends house and kinda needed to escape for privacy."

  "Didn't want to tell her that you talk to a stranger every night when the clock chimes twelve?"

  "First of all, you're not a stranger." She had a playfulness to her that could've easily made me adore her if I let myself. "Second of all, it's not every night."

  "Unfortunately."

  She didn't respond for a few seconds, then said, "You called."

  "I did." I laughed quietly. "How was your day?"

  "It's been relaxing. My sister and I are hanging out in Chicago, well actually Schaumburg. Nothing exciting. You?"

  "A little too eventful and not worth talking about." Really I just wanted to close my eyes and listen to her voice. "What made you move to New York?"

  She started to say something, but stopped herself and said, "My job. What about your day isn't worth talking about?"

  "I don't know, but hearing your voice is already helping."

  She fell silent again. I didn't try to fill the gap of conversation either, so I listened to her breathe until she broke the silence with my name. "Sawyer," she said again.

  "I'm here."

  "You can talk to me. You can trust me."

  "Do you feel the same about me?"

  "I do," she whispered.

  "We don't even know each other."

  "At the same time," she paused, "I feel like I've known you forever."

  "You first, then I'll answer." I pulled my blanket to my chest, put my headphones in, and leaned back. "What's your biggest fear?"

  "Living my entire life without ever knowing who I truly am, because if I spend my life doing everything I've ever wanted on the outside without knowing who I am inside, I might find myself lying there with a minute left of my life and realize, far too late, that I never really lived at all." Her voice trembled. "Your turn."

  I processed her words, realizing they were my own. "I don't think I could say it so eloquently, but I feel the same."

  "No you do not." She barely laughed, but I still heard it.

  "I knew you'd say that."

  "I knew you knew I would."

  "I really do though. I fear dying without having lived." I thought for a few seconds. "I also fear loving, really loving something or someone, because everything is too easy to lose and I lose everything. Maybe it's sports, the guys, the locker room fights, maybe they've ruined me but I'm also afraid to cry. Afraid to be weak. Afraid to feel pain in my chest. Send a bullet through my heart and I'm fine, just don't take away something I love. Sometimes, because of that, I feel like it's better not to fully love, to just not give myself to anything. Then, when I lose it I won't really lose anything."

  All I could think of during the next few minutes of silence was why, why did I say that?

  She whispered my name. I didn't respond so I could hear it again. "Sawyer," she said. "Don't take this the wrong way, but it's what I feel ... I love you."

  I didn't know what to say. I'd heard those words come from a woman's mouth many times, but never did it sound so real.

  "I don't mean 'in love' yet, just love. I hope I didn't scare you, but as friends I want you to know that I love you."

  I held onto the word "yet," and after a few seconds, I finally responded, "I love you too, Nora. As friends."

  Every time I talked to Nora, never before midnight of course, we'd talk until we fell asleep. Mostly between four and sunrise. Eventually one of us would wake up and, I don't know about her, but I'd listen to her sleep for a few minutes, then whisper, "Goodnight," before ending the call.

  That being said, I needed coffee. Dark, black, no sugar coffee. Chris agreed to meet me at a nearby Starbucks early Saturday morning. After a few nights in a row of late night talks, I was in desperate need of that blacker than black caffiene.

  "What the crap?" Chris said when he walked up to me by the entrance. "You look like hell."

  "I feel good. Tired, but good."

  He pulled the door open and nudged my arm. "Danielle keeping you up at night?"

  "Haven't talked to her in a while."

  "Someone else?" We stood in line next to the brownies and scones. "Already? Damn, dude."

  "It's that weird girl. The one who gave me her number before. We've been talking. We're just friends."

  "Right."

  "She gets me. I get her. It's weird, but nice and ... you can look at me like that all you want, but it's not like that."

  He looked at the cashier. "Earl Grey latte, please. Blackest strongest coffee ya got for my buddy here."

  The rest of the morning we talked about this and that but he didn't press the Nora thing. I was surprised and not relieved. I actually wanted to talk about it, about her. By the end of the morning, I parted with Chris and decided I'd call Coach J and say what he wanted to hear. I have no idea why, but that's what I wanted to do. I needed to do something. I kept hearing Mom’s voice in my head as though she were still alive. She never pushed me to do something amazing, but she did pressure me to never give up whatever it was I wanted to do, if anything. For her, I wanted to try again. One more time.

  "One practice," I said to Coach. "I'm not committing to the team, but one practice I can do. We'll go from there."

  Coach J laughed through the phone. "Yes, yes," he said. "You won't regret this."

  "I might, but if there's one coach worth the regret it's you. No media yet."

  "See ya next Saturday, Reed." He was still laughing when he hung up the phone.

  And I already regretted it.

  CH. 10 - Nora

  London and I drove to Chicago. We stayed with her family in the waiting room of the hospital while her dad had surgery. When the nurse told us all went well and he was in recovery, I borrowed London's car to meet my parents for lunch.

  When I got out of the car someone stopped me and asked for an autograph, minutes later a crowd formed around me. I tried to push through the crowd, apologizing as I sifted through everyone. Someone groped my butt as I passed and by the time I reached the restaurant door a camera was in my face and a young guy was asking me if I supported gay rights. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

  He grabbed my shoulder. "Your manager is gay. Is that right? So you support gay rights and homosexuality. Did you know that's a sin?"

  I turned around and noticed a God Hates Fags sticker on the camera. Agitated, I stood in the doorway and refused to smile.

  "Are you prepared to burn in hell for eternity because you support sin?"

  "Look." I shook my head. "I love Maury and I could care less what he does with his personal life. Right, wrong, left or right, it's his life and he has a right to do what he wants. I've got enough of my own issues to deal with. When I'm perfect I'll consider judging everyone else, but it's good to know that perfect people like yourself exist in the world. Very encouraging." I walked inside the restaurant and let the door close behind me. "So much for going unnoticed today." I should’ve asked the restaurant if I could go through the back entrance. In New York and LA I always had to walk through the greasy kitchen to a secret seating area upstairs or downstairs somewhere, out of sight, where no one would bother me.

  My parents waved me over to their table like excited cheerleaders. Slightly embarrassing. They each hugged me for what seemed like an eternity until we sat down and ordered meals. Small talk mixed with more small talk carried us through most of the meal until Dad so characteristically set his fork on his empty plate and folded his hands on the
table. Leaning forward, he whispered, "We're worried about you, Nettie." My parents called me Nettie since I was two and unfortunately it stuck.

  I shook it off and looked to Mom for an escape.

  She looked at her plate. "We just don't want you to get hurt."

  "That's part of life though, isn't it?" I smiled. "Mom, when I was learning to ride my bike without training wheels you could barely let go. Dad had to pry your hands off and when I got hurt you were there and you said it wasn't so bad. Boo-boo's happen, but they heal and you ride again." I looked at Dad. "And you chimed in and said that one day I'd learn to ride, but sometimes even then I'd still get hurt. Most important thing is to just keep going."

  They both nodded.

  "Are you doing what you love?" Mom said. "Is this the path you're happiest riding on?"

  "I'm not sure." I thought for a few seconds. "I don't know. I won't know unless I try though. I promise, if this doesn't work out for me in anyway I will leave it all behind."

  Mom rubbed her collar bone and refused to look at me.

  "What's wrong, Mom?"

  She squeezed my hand and said, "Promise me that if you're ever faced with a decision to choose love for acting over love for people, that you'll choose people.”

  I laughed, wondering why she even considered the idea of me choosing acting over people, but she didn't smile and still seemed genuinely worried. I squeezed her hand back. "Of course. I promise."

  When I got back to New York it was late. I thought I'd miss Sawyer's call, if he called. Some nights he did, some he didn't, and there were a few times when I had fallen asleep and didn't wake up when the phone rang. Still, we talked a lot and sometimes I felt like I needed it. Like now.

  I crashed on my bed and fell into a half-sleep with Niles on my chest, then woke to my phone vibrating in my hand.

  I barely let it ring before picking up. "Sawyer. I've missed you."

  "It's only been two days." He laughed. "I had a few long days of work and tried to stay awake, but couldn't." He paused as something clicked in the background. "Are you outside?"