AMAZING HEART (Broken Bottles Series Book 4)

by Pamela Taeuffer

  "We haven't had sex." I was embarrassed that once again I had to admit to a friend I still hadn't entered a world into which she had fallen several years earlier.

  God, everybody assumes that I've had intercourse with Ryan. Did all my friends have sex as soon as they had boyfriends? Am I the only one who hasn't? What's wrong with me?

  "What have you done then?" Her eyes investigated mine.

  "Things," I said.

  "Not very exciting." She scrunched her face.

  "Well, he's a gentleman." I defended him as if trying to reassure my friend and myself.

  "A gentleman who had sex with another woman as soon as he went on the road," she scoffed.

  "Yeah." I put my hand on my forehead. "If it weren't for us being in two different places, it might be different. Right now, all I want is to be free from anything heavy. I mean, we've got all this seriousness coming with college, right?"

  "Right! It's hang loose and party time, not serious time!" She pumped her arms.

  "You know, I would've thought about going further if it weren't for that fucking text from his former girlfriend."

  "What?" she asked excitedly. "Not like you to use the F word. Are you pissed off?"

  "Hell yeah, I'm pissed off." I affirmed. "How could they—he—do that?" I still hadn't deleted Jesse's text and I showed it to her.

  "That's just bullshit stuff, don't you think?" All of a sudden she went into hysterics. "I'm sorry, Nick."

  "What's so funny about any of this?" My anger needle drifted into red.

  "How old is this Jesse woman, anyway? It's so high school."

  "Ryan's age, I think. They went to college together."

  "God, what a loser." She sipped her water.

  "She's apparently rich, but—"

  "Yeah, well, rich or not—she's got a screw loose to send that," she stated firmly.

  She's coming to my defense! Hooray!

  "Thanks, Colleen."

  "You still care for him?" Before I could speak, whatever look I had on my face gave her the answer. "Yep. You do."

  "And that shit, Jerry? He only wanted the same thing. After all these years, we barely begin talking about intimacy? Suddenly I'm the bad guy because I'm not ready. Stupid boys."

  "I probably should shut up." She stirred her milkshake with a straw. "But . . . I heard he's been seeing Terrie. We all know she's lusted after Jerry for, well, forever, right?"

  "Oh, duh," I agreed. "Jerry and Terrie sittin' in a tree . . ."

  "K-i-s-s-i-n-g," she cracked up. "I saw the both of 'em at Mel's and they looked pretty chummy. She was draped all over him. So don't get bent about anything he says."

  "I knew something was up with her. I thought I saw her picture on his cell phone when we went out. Fucking guys. Why can't they stay away from women, Colleen? What's so difficult about giving me some time to figure it out? Am I that backward?"

  "Well shit!" Her eyes widened. "I'm a woman and can't stay away from sex. It's spectacular! I whole-heartedly recommend it!" She cracked up.

  "I don't know." Just getting out my inner dialogue helped my appetite a little. I ate a tomato slice and a small piece of the hamburger. "It's all tied to my spiritual beliefs. I hear the logical side, but for me, it's hard to let that part go. Ryan made such a big deal telling me he wasn't with any woman and he'd wait for me. I relaxed, thinking I had some time. Why bother saying all that? And if he can't stay away from other women when we're at the beginning of our relationship, won't it be only a matter of time until the next comes along? I thought he was true."

  "True?" she mocked. "Nicky, women are all over him trying to get his attention. I'll just say this . . ." She left the end of her sentence dangling. I couldn't wait for her to finish.

  I waved my hand like a wheel, encouraging her to continue.

  "Well, you're not having sex with him. What's he supposed to do?” she challenged. “Aren't you giving him mixed signals?"

  "I didn't give him mixed signals, Colleen. I was very clear that I wasn't ready."

  "That's my point. He has sex in his face all the time." Colleen affirmed the things Alex said. "How can you expect a man his age to hold out? Beautiful women and their hard bodies in his face and they're offering him their pussy? I mean . . . come on."

  "Oh damn, Colleen, do you have to say it like that?"

  Yuck.

  "Yeah, I know it's disgusting to think about, but he's gonna get blue balls waiting for you. From what Brett tells me, that hurts."

  "Blue balls, poo balls. I think that's bullshit." I shifted in my seat. "I think most men, including Ryan, have it more together than people give them credit for. They're not Neanderthals."

  "Oh no?" Her eyes widened. "Yet, Ryan and Jerry just failed in that category, right? That's two of two!"

  "No, my friend Ethan . . ."

  "You weren't thinking of more with Ethan. I stand by what I said. Men want sex first, relationships second. If they can't get sex, there's no chance for a healthy relationship. And frankly, I'm with them. I need to know the sex is good."

  "I'm not sure I agree," I hesitated. "Anyway, I can't wait to finish out the summer and be done with all the old stuff. Tell me . . . are you finally together with Sy?"

  Once I asked her to talk about her life, she didn't stop until she had to leave.

  When I arrived back at home, I shut myself in my room and pulled out my journal. I wanted to yell and shake Ryan. All I could do was retell the steps of my anger in writing.

  The remorse settled on me.

  How many times do you expect him to keep calling without getting a response from you? How often should he reach out only to be denied, pushed away, and beaten down? He tried for an entire week to reach you, but you wouldn't answer him.

  When all was said and done, I realized I'd reacted like a girl instead of a woman. I should have given him a chance to explain himself. As usual, I didn't.

  When Friday's game arrived, just the thought of seeing Ryan made me shake. I dreaded seeing him at all. When it came down to it, I wasn't certain I should even attempt to cheer. Watching him flirt with another woman—or worse yet—seeing Jesse flaunt her victory in my face, made my stomach sick.

  I was uneasy and I missed him terribly. This time, I had to let him go. My cell phone had stopped ringing and beeping with Ryan's messages. By now I knew he'd moved on. I'd known since our beginning we weren't right for each other and told him that often. During our breakup, he must have determined I was right—our timing was completely wrong.

  I arrived at the Bay Gate at five o'clock. My nerves were shot. I still hadn't eaten much. I was putting back together my focus toward my future in small steps.

  My teammates and Tara were already in the bleachers. Whenever we had a new routine, Tara and Alex often came to give us input, constructive criticism, and of course, encouragement in-between our dances.

  "Tara!" I gave her a big hug. "I didn't expect to see you."

  "I needed to get out." She smacked her lips after taking a sip of lemonade.

  "What about—"

  "I don't know yet," she whispered. "I promise I'll tell you as soon as I know. Nicky," her voice returned to a normal volume. "This is my mom, Elaine Wheaton. Mom, my girlfriend, Nicky."

  "Wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Wheaton," I shook her hand.

  "Just Elaine. You as well, Nicky."

  "I sure love your daughter," I praised.

  "She's a quite a woman, isn't she?" The way her mother's eyes twinkled and her posture straightened, it was obvious she was proud of her Tara. When I turned to look at her, she seemed to glow. It was clear that her mother's love was what she needed.

  "Hey ladies." Alex came up behind us and draped an arm on each of our shoulders.

  "Hey!" We gave each other a kiss.

  "Feeling better?" Alex whispered.

  "Much," I confided. "Thanks for the downtime at your place. It really helped."

  "Anytime, doll." With another squeeze she let me go and turned to greet Tara
's mother. "Elaine! So nice to see you."

  The night was unseasonably hot.

  A different kind of electricity hung in the air.

  It seemed alive and crackled with danger.

  The ballpark flags hung limply as if the game was to be played in the middle of the Sonoran desert. It was one of the few night games when breezes refused to blow. The heat from the day radiated off the concrete and metal benches.

  "It feels like earthquake weather, doesn't it?" I joked. None of us who lived in the city were used to nights like this one. Generally when it got warm in San Francisco, we waited a few hours and the fog would roll down the coastal hills. By the late afternoon we were blessed with nature's cool blanket, relieving us from a rare day of heat.

  That night at the ballpark, at seven o' clock it was still hot.

  The players took their positions on the field.

  I was dripping with sweat underneath the thick, black shirt I wore with my jersey.

  "Earthquake weather?” Elaine's voice was woven in panic. “What do you mean?"

  "It's way too hot," I pulled the neck of my shirt away. "When there's no wind at night and it's warm like this, the superstition around here is that an earthquake is coming."

  "Oh, holy Moses!" Elaine turned to Tara. "What would we do? How do we protect ourselves? Do you and Matt have an evacuation plan? Is there one at the ballpark?"

  I almost laughed, but was able to hold in my amusement.

  "Mom, that's just an old fable," Tara put her hand on her mother's shoulder. "Nicky, don't you know people who aren't used to earthquakes are scared to death of them?"

  "I'm sorry, Elaine. I didn't mean to scare you. It's only a superstition. Like Tara said."

  I joined my team while trying to hide my grin. Making Tara's mom worry about an earthquake gave me a strange and satisfied sensation. For reasons I didn't quite understand, I enjoyed planting the little seed of fear in her. Perhaps it was because my usual instincts were to keep people calm and reassure them. For once, stirring up a little trouble felt mighty fine.

  Is this how Jesse felt when she sent her text to me? Was it her chance, being a lady of society, to show her rebellion and stake her claim for the man she loves?

  I surveyed the field for Ryan, but didn't see him.

  "God, it's hot," Kathie, my friend and teammate, blurted. "I think an earthquake is coming."

  "I know." I smiled a mischievous smile.

  Chapter 18

  Earthquake

  Warm nights in San Francisco brought restlessness.

  We felt like crawling out of our skin.

  As kids, those were the nights we'd stay out later than usual, playing tag and hide-and-go-seek. When we were older, it meant doing the things that made our parents go crazy—partying—which also resulted in weeks of being grounded.

  Now, my games had transitioned to cheering for a professional baseball team in order to build a resume to Stanford, but which pointed to an uncertain future when it came to intimacy and making lasting relationships.

  I wondered what would be worse . . . not to have my college education at Stanford or living a life that was lacking real intimacy and finding love?

  Even after an entire week of talking it through with Jenise, Tara, Alex, and even with Colleen, I couldn’t escape the image of Ryan’s mouth all over Jesse's body.

  Their sex was for adults. Jesse had texted. He'll rip your body apart.

  What kind of sex was that?

  I never heard any of my friends describe having sex with their boyfriend that way.

  Apparently the man I was interested in wanted it rough, and the woman who could accommodate him had gone to meet him when on his road trip.

  Facing a fact I couldn't deny any longer—that I was better off staying away from the man I had fallen in love with—was gut wrenching. It was the right thing to do; I knew that, but on top of everything, I was still upset over Jerry's obnoxious behavior. Losing the friendship of both men at the same time was at the very core of my fears—being alone and abandoned.

  It was why I had taken so long to take a risk and hadn't yet told Jerry.

  What kind of men chose to trade their history with a woman because of sex?

  Were Ryan and Jerry really that shallow?

  On top of everything, I should have taken better care of myself over the last week. I took a big chance with the safety of my teammates by not eating. I knew it was possible I wasn't in the shape I needed to be. A gnawing fear turned in my gut. Agreeing to such a demanding routine . . . maybe it was it a mistake.

  "Let us know what you think of our new moves, okay, you guys?" Colleen asked Tara and Alex.

  "We will," both said at the same time. They scooted to the edge of their seats.

  "Jinx," they said together.

  "Personal jinx," they yelled.

  I cracked up at two sophisticated ladies acting like girls.

  "Be sure and watch them when they're on the field, Mom," Tara directed. "They're so good.” Suddenly she reached out and put her hand on my forehead. “Nick, are you feeling all right?"

  "Fine, why?"

  "You look a little pale." She turned her hand over so the back of it rested on my cheek.

  "I'm fine." At that point, the truth wouldn't have done anyone any good.

  Bottom of the first inning and we were on. Our routine went well. Tara and Alex agreed we looked great. Second performance, I was into it. We stepped it up to another level. The shaky feelings had left me and I was happy I'd decided to cheer again. My nerves had finally settled down. I was having fun. Eight-thirty at night and I was still perspiring. Without realizing it, I'd lost precious water from my body—and it was too much.

  By our third routine, I was severely dehydrated.

  Water and other clear drinks had made me nauseous all week and I hadn't given myself the nutrients I'd needed for the demands of what my team was about to do.

  "Here you go," Tommy announced, carrying a tray of six bottles of ice water. Tommy was the ten-year-old batboy and we danced at the end-of-the-year party together the prior November. He let my friends take theirs and handed me the last bottle. His crush was sweet and obvious.

  "Thanks, Tommy." I wiped my forehead with the cool bottle and then took several long swigs. "Just what we need. You're so thoughtful." I gulped it down. "Playing summer league baseball?"

  "Yeah! I made the team!"

  "All the good athletes make summer league," I praised. "Tommy's the man!" We high-fived, and he went back into the dugout with a bright smile.

  Positioned to the right of the Goliaths' dugout, a mini trampoline was set out for Colleen to be the star in our final performance of the night. The first set of jumps and stacking were perfect. The fans clapped furiously. They seemed to appreciate the difficulty. The moment came. People in the area stood, anticipating Colleen's jump. A few seconds remained before she executed her move. I only needed to lift Lorraine on my shoulders.

  Lorraine jumped.

  I held all of her weight.

  She reached high and waved her arms.

  I felt my strength crumble.

  My legs started to shake.

  When Colleen made her jump to the top of our pyramid, the final addition of her weight made my knees buckle. It shut me down. I felt as if I was an hourglass.

  Draining away.

  Turned over.

  Vision fuzzy.

  Acid shot into my legs.

  Before collapsing to the ground, my mind filled with racing, random thoughts.

  I don't feel good. I really need to sleep. Maybe Lorraine can stand somewhere else while I take a nap. I hope no one gets hurt.

  The team fell down and tumbled on top of me.

  Everything went to black.

  When I awoke, I knew I was at the stadium's medical station. The cheer team had been given a tour of it before we ever performed at the ballpark, in case we were faced with an emergency. I recognized the pattern of the drapes that surrounded me as I lay o
n a table with an IV in my arm. A cool towel rested on my forehead. My jersey was off. I had a gown on with several nodes attached to my chest.

  "What's going on?" Panic ricocheted through me. "Hello?" I yelled, not bothering to hide my fear. Ow! My head hurts.

  I didn't see the attending nurse in my room and jumped when her arm came from behind me and rested on my shoulder.

  "Stay calm, Ms. Young." Her voice was soothing. "You're all right. You're at the medical station. My name is Graciela. I'm the attending nurse. Do you remember what happened?"

  "What are these things on my chest?" I grabbed them. "Are you monitoring my heart?"

  "Yes. We took an EKG reading," she took my hands away from the nodes and placed them at my sides. "Please keep your head down. We're just taking precautions at this point."

  She asked me to perform some basic commands. I followed her finger without moving my head and answered easy questions such as my name, the date, and what day of the week it was.

  "Do you remember what happened?" she repeated the question.

  "I fell down."

  "You've been unconscious," she advised. "How do you feel?"

  "So-so."

  "Noted. Are you sick to your stomach?"

  "No."

  "How’s your head?”

  I knew if I confessed my worsening headache, she'd put me through more tests and perhaps transport me to the hospital. I had to get out of there. I just wanted to get home and reset my life.

  "Fine," I lied.

  “Any soreness in your stomach or back?"

  "No."

  "When we're done here, I want you to go home and call your doctor first thing in the morning." Graciela took the nodes off my chest. "We don't have the equipment to measure head trauma, but you need be aware of the signs. Do you know what they are?"

  "Headache, nausea, feeling off, cognitive challenges, vision changes, confusion—yes, I know them." I first thought of the vets in Yountville, but then flashes from a scene in my childhood crept into my present.

  Wall.

  Cement.

  Fall.

  Thud.

  Stairs.

  Drunk.

  "That's right. It's also important to have someone watch you. If you manifest any symptoms and they don't go away, head straight to the emergency room. Don't second guess yourself or try to be brave, just go," she cautioned. "If it turns out to be nothing, so be it. You can't be too careful with a head injury."