Best Played (Salt Lake Pumas)

by Camellia Tate

  As if she could read my mind, she rushed to explain, “I don’t usually struggle. I mean, usually, we go on a vacation together and I watch what she looks at in markets or shops and buy her something like that. But with the wedding happening this summer, we haven’t been away together since her last birthday.”

  This didn’t really explain why Steph had called me, though.

  It occurred to me that she must not know. Roxi must not have told her about what had happened. Or even that we’d “broken up”. Surely, Steph wouldn’t be calling me, of all people, if she knew even a part of that?

  I wondered if I should tell her. Just be honest and say that Roxi and I weren’t... whatever. But it probably wasn’t my place to say. I certainly didn’t want to explain why we weren’t seeing each other anymore even if Steph didn’t know just how new that relationship had been.

  “Um, sure, I can try to help you,” I decided. Trying to think back on what Roxi and I had talked about, I realized that, actually, I probably did have some suggestions for what Steph could get Roxi. Some things I had thought about getting her, Steph could have those ideas, since Roxi would hardly want a present from me.

  “Brilliant! I knew you’d know,” Steph said warmly. I felt guilt like cold water trickling down my spine. I didn’t deserve warmth from anyone in Roxi’s family, not after I’d failed her in such a big way.

  I couldn’t imagine why Roxi hadn’t told them. She’d mentioned feeling guilty that she’d have to pretend to feel sad about our ‘break up’.

  But even if we’d only had one date, she could still legitimately tell them now that we’d stopped seeing each other.

  Shaking my head, I tried to focus on the task at hand.

  Trying to focus on what gift Roxi might like, I tried to somehow, at the same time, block the thoughts of her face, the way her smile might light it up, the way she’d radiate when receiving something she liked. It made my heart ache to think that I wouldn’t be there to see it.

  “What ideas have you got so far?” I asked, wondering if maybe I could just be encouraging about the plans Steph had. If she had any. “I mean, your sister’s pretty big on organization and horses,” I added, trying my best to make a joke, even if my heart wasn’t quite in it.

  “Yeah, but I can’t buy her a horse,” Steph pointed out, laughing. “And I know she doesn’t want, like, boxes with horses on, or a little horse ornament. People used to give her things like that when we were kids and she’d always complain.”

  I could understand that. People would occasionally give me bookmarks or fridge magnets with hockey players on and it always felt a little bit like hockey was the only thing they knew about me.

  “I guess I could buy her a new notebook, but she’s pretty picky about them,” Steph continued. “I’d get the brand wrong, and she wouldn’t actually use it.”

  Briefly, I wondered if I should offer that I could pay for Steph to buy Roxi a horse, but that was mostly my guilt talking. A horse, I imagined, came with a lot of expenses anyway, it seemed like a bit much for a present. Especially for a present from me.

  “I was thinking about getting her tickets to the Kentucky Derby,” I admitted. “You could get her a dress for that?” And while I wouldn’t be going with Roxi, I hardly minded getting the tickets for her and Steph. Not that I was going to tell Steph that right now.

  “Ooooh, she’ll love that!” Steph sounded so excited on Roxi’s behalf that I had to smile, even as I thought about how much I would miss seeing the excitement on Roxi’s face of watching such a prestigious horse race live.

  Luckily, Steph didn’t seem to notice my distraction. She was talking about different designers and different colors and fabrics that Roxi might like. Her input was undoubtedly a lot more expert than mine would’ve been.

  “You’ll have to make sure she opens your gift first,” Steph informed me suddenly. “I wouldn’t want my dress to spoil the surprise. And she’ll need a hat, too, so Mom can buy her that. This is perfect! Thank you so much.”

  Her thanks just made the guilt rush through me. I wouldn’t be there for Roxi to open my present first. But I would send it to Steph. By the time Roxi’s birthday came, I was sure she would have told her family.

  That, too, hurt, knowing that Roxi would have to lie to them or, maybe worse, - tell the truth. None of those were things I could tell Steph, though. It wasn’t my place to do so.

  Getting my words together, I cleared my throat.

  “That’s no worry at all. I think she’ll love it and... everyone putting something in will make it extra special.”

  Steph hummed her agreement. “You’re very sweet,” she observed. “You’re not quite what I thought Roxi would look for in a boyfriend, but she’s obviously crazy about you.”

  That made my stomach do a miserable flip. I hoped it wasn’t true, that Roxi hadn’t been as invested in our relationship as Steph assumed. It would be so much better if she could just forget about me, and move on to someone who would be better for her.

  Merely thinking about that possibility brought on a flash of envy. But how could I object, when I’d been the one to leave the country without even saying goodbye?

  “And do you have time to tell me about cool places to visit in Sweden?” Steph asked. “I don’t want to keep you if you’re busy. But you could look at it as preparation for when you take Roxi out to meet your family! I bet she’ll want to see the beauty spots.”

  God, Steph was really acing the twisting of the knife. Not that she knew, of course. I knew this wasn’t on her, it was all on me. Besides, I liked Steph. So after a moment, I gave a nod.

  “Yeah, of course, I can always make time for you, Steph,” I promised. She’d been very nice to me when Roxi had taken me home, I owed her the same back. So I began to tell her about my favorite places, something that she seemed pleased to hear about.

  It was much easier to talk about landmarks than it was to talk - and think - about Roxi.

  The conversation with Steph seemed to shake me up. Not in a bad way. Yes, it did make my heart ache for Roxi, but it pushed me to actually get up. After a shower, I headed downstairs where mom was cooking something that smelled absolutely delicious.

  “Hey, mom,” I greeted with a smile. Such excitement flashed across her face that I instantly felt guilty. She was pleased I’d managed to shower and come downstairs. As an adult, that probably shouldn’t have been an achievement my mom was pleased I could do.

  But I knew better than to say that.

  Instead, I took a seat, nodding when she offered me a cup of tea. “Whatever you’re cooking smells amazing.”

  “Of course,” she agreed, making me laugh. Mom’s confidence in her abilities was one of the reasons I’d always admired her so much. And she certainly had a lot to be confident about, when it came to cooking.

  She continued chopping, adding to what was already on the stove while seeming barely to look at it. “I was mostly joking about having chores for you to do,” she told me. “But I’m sure I can think of something, if you get bored.”

  “It might be good for me to have something to do,” I told her truthfully. “Set my mind to something other than, you know.” I gave a wave with my hand and mom frowned. I didn’t want her to worry, though. Hopefully, me being up and about would give her confidence.

  Thanking Mom for the cup of tea she handed me, I gave a small hum. “I just spoke to Roxi’s sister, Steph. She’s a travel writer, so we chatted about places to visit in Sweden.” It wasn’t telling the whole story but enough to start the conversation. “Roxi... hadn’t told Steph about us.”

  “And you think that’s strange?” Mom asked. I nodded. There was no reason I could think of why Roxi wouldn’t tell Steph. Briefly, I wondered whether she had told Lacey. If she had, I didn’t really want to dwell on what Lacey would think of me now.

  After putting a lid over her cooking, Mom turned, watching me carefully. “You said she was worried about you, that she wanted to make sure you were okay. Ma
ybe she doesn’t think it’s her business to tell people about what happened.”

  “I mean, that’s fair enough. I more meant... she hasn’t told Steph that we broke up?” Except, we hadn’t really. We’d never been together in the first place. Not really. But mom knew that.

  Giving a soft sigh, I reached to take a sip of my tea, effectively burning my lips with it. Hissing, I set the mug back down. “I don’t really know why she wouldn’t. Yeah, okay, don’t say something about what happened, but in general. I didn’t... I didn’t tell her I was leaving,” I admitted, already knowing my mom would tell me off for that.

  “Olle!” There was no attempt to soften the sharpness in her tone. I deserved that; I’d behaved badly by not telling Roxi that I was leaving. “Even if you only had one date, that’s still rude.”

  I shrugged sheepishly. “Why didn’t you?” Mom asked. “What were you afraid would happen?”

  What had I worried would happen? That was a good question. I hadn’t expected Roxi to be angry at me or anything. But maybe... “I didn’t want to see her disappointed in me,” I admitted. “I just... I wanted to be the right kind of person for her so much and...” I gave a small shrug.

  I wasn’t.

  Her dad had said that she needed someone stable and I just wasn’t that person. Roxi was so organized and deserving of so much more than me.

  “I like her too much to make her put up with this. With me.” Because sure, mostly I was stable but then things like this happened and they might always happen. Bipolar didn’t go away no matter how much I wished it to.

  “You’re not something for people to ‘put up with’, Olle.” Mom’s expression was a cross between concern and frustration. She came closer, resting a hand on my arm. “You’re a person. You’re a very good, warm-hearted, successful person. And any woman who deserves you is going to see that.”

  She gave my arm a quick squeeze, shaking her head. “Your mental health is something you’ve had to adapt to. And maybe it’s something that a partner will have to adapt to, too. But it’s not you.”

  Mom gave a sigh which went straight to my heart. “If you don’t know that already, maybe I haven’t done a good enough job as a mom.”

  “You’ve been a great mom,” I jumped in.

  There was absolutely nothing she’d ever done wrong as a mom. Even when I’d been at my worst, parties and not a care in the world, mom had always been there to support me when I needed it.

  “Did you worry that this would happen?” I asked, almost curiously but unsure if I actually wanted to know the answer. “When you asked me if I could trust Roxi?” Because it was something I’d thought about. Trusting Roxi with the truth. And I liked to think I would’ve done, had my own issues not gotten in the way.

  Mom frowned, brow creasing like she was struggling to remember when she’d said that. “No,” she said quickly. “Not in the way you mean. I worried…” She paused, looking at me seriously.

  “I suppose I worried that your relationship seemed to be happening very fast. When your doctor rang me to say you were having a manic episode… it wasn’t that much of a surprise.”

  When I said nothing, Mom continued. “You’d only known Roxi for a week, but you sounded more invested in her than that. I suppose I wondered whether it was real.”

  It was hard not to let that hurt me.

  While I understood where she was coming from, that really wasn’t what it had been about. Sure, I got that it could be. I even got that maybe I ‘didn’t know’. But I did. My feelings for Roxi had nothing to do with this.

  “It was real,” I said softly. My fingers played against the mug, burning just enough to be felt but not so much that it’d actually hurt. “She’s... she’s just really lovely, mom,” I told her with a small smile. “More than I deserve.”

  “I don’t believe that,” she said fiercely. And I must have let the hurt show on my face, because Mom quickly explained. “No, I don’t mean I don’t believe you. If you say she’s lovely, then I’m sure she’s lovely.”

  Taking a seat, Mom continued to watch my face. “But I don’t believe she is more than you deserve. I don’t believe anyone is more than you deserve.” She smiled then, easing some of the tension that had built. “I’m biased, but only a little!”

  That made me laugh. But I could also see that Mom really wanted me to believe her. To believe that Roxi wasn’t more than I could be allowed to have.

  “If you didn’t tell her, how do you know she would be disappointed?” Mom asked more gently. “Did she say anything about mental health? I know some people don’t understand it.”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  Truthfully, I struggled to imagine that Roxi was someone who would think badly of mental health. But then, a lot of people didn’t until they were faced with the more unpleasant parts of it. My reluctance to tell her, though, hadn’t been about that.

  How did I know she would be disappointed?

  Surely, no one wanted someone with issues?

  “She just deserves better,” I shrugged. “She’s so... perfect. Pretty, funny, clever. And I’m... someone who ran away to a different country without even saying thanks to her for helping me through a shitty time,” I sighed.

  Mom tutted, a sound so familiar that it took me right back to times she’d had to teach me right from wrong as a child. “Nobody is perfect,” she reminded me. “Maybe you reacted badly, but that doesn’t need to be the way you leave it forever.”

  She stood, returning to her place at the stove and lifting the lid so that a fresh waft of delicious steam billowed from the pan. “Think about it for a little while,” she suggested. “But know that I don’t believe anyone could deserve better than my son. You’ve grown up so well, and I’m so proud of you.”

  It was impossible not to smile at that. “Thank you,” I said. “I love you.” At that, Mom smiled widely back at me, clearly pleased with being told so. She, of course, returned it with a ‘love you, too’ and a quick hug before she gave me a list of things I could ‘help with if I chose’.

  Considering that one of them was setting the table for dinner, I could definitely do that. I would think about what she said, too. Mom always had good advice, part of the job, I supposed.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Roxi

  With my plan made (and neatly written down), I felt a lot more confident of my ability to actually get to Olle’s parents’ house. Instead of speeding to the airport and hoping to arrive in time, I had made myself a little schedule.

  I arrived at the airport with enough time to move leisurely through the check-in process - which was a lot more efficient when I already had a ticket for the flight I wanted, not to mention having my passport on me!

  Once I’d found a seat with a good view of the departures board, I devoted myself to the language guides I’d downloaded, rehearsing in my head how to pronounce the Swedish phrases I’d thought would be most useful.

  The more time passed, the more my fingers seemed to tremble in my lap. I wasn’t nervous about the flight - I’d flown from Salt Lake City to Nashville by myself plenty of times. But thoughts about what would come after the flight tumbled around my brain, getting mixed up with random words of Swedish.

  What if Olle didn’t want to see me? What if he’d left because he’d had enough of me? After all, leaving without saying goodbye was a pretty big hint.

  I had to remind myself of what Lacey had said, that Olle was probably as lost in his own head about what had happened as I was about to get buried in my own anxieties!

  And even if he didn’t want to see me, at least I would know. That would be better than always wondering whether I should have made more of an effort.

  Getting onto the plane and into my seat all went smoothly, but I must have looked more anxious than I realized.

  “First time flying?” one of the flight attendants asked, leaning down so she was speaking just to me. “Did you bring a book or something, it might help to distract you.”

&
nbsp; In fact, I’d brought a book of crossword puzzles, the same one that I’d bought for me and Olle on our trip to Tennessee. We’d gotten so caught up in learning about each other that we’d never even started them.

  And even though I wasn’t nervous because I’d never flown before, I knew good advice when I heard it.

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling up gratefully.

  The same woman came back to check on me once we were in the air. “See, it’s not so bad,” she said cheerfully. “You look better already.”

  It was too late to admit, then, that she’d guessed incorrectly. Besides, telling somebody else the reason I was flying across the world was only going to make me nervous all over again.

  I focused on my crossword, filling in word after word until all my anxious energy seemed to ebb away. Bunding my sweater up against the window, I rested my head against the wall for a little nap. It didn’t feel anywhere near as good as it had to fall asleep on Olle’s big, strong shoulder.

  By the time I woke up, Utah was 5,000 miles away and everyone was getting ready to land.

  Picking up my rental car proved a much bigger challenge than I’d expected. The Swedish phrases I had memorized only carried the conversation so far. After that, the guy behind the counter answered so quickly that I couldn’t tell where one word ended and the next one began.

  Eventually, I got him to slow down enough that I could pick up the make of the car - but I knew better than to think that was enough. It would be stupid to head out into the parking lot without more information, or I’d end up staring at a sea of Toyotas and not knowing which one was mine.

  I had to rummage through my bag for the Swedish-to-English dictionary I’d bought, pointing hopelessly to the word ‘färg’ when my attempt to pronounce it made the guy squint at me.

  In response, he reached out and tugged on the sleeve of my sweater. I clutched it to myself, annoyed and confused until he pointed again, repeating a word he’d said before and I realized he was showing me the answer to my question.