Teardrop Shot

by Tijan

  That made my decision. The words apology and message were enough. “You know, now that I’m remembering, I had a call from my last boss. She wanted me to come back and see her. Maybe I could get my job back.”

  “You’re lying.”

  I was. I didn’t care. “Have you really never heard Janet talk shit about people? You do know that’s what she does.”

  “She’s not that bad.”

  “Because you’re a guy. She loves you. With girls, it’s another thing. She’ll talk shit about who you’re dating, but she won’t talk shit about you. If you have a vagina, you’re fair game to her.”

  My phone buzzed, and pulling away from my ear, I saw a text.

  Reese: Just landed. Coach said we’re doing lunch there. I brought you a shirt from the airport.

  “Hold on a second, Trent.”

  Me: What airport?

  Reese: Congratulations. It says you’ve visited New York.

  Me: Always wanted to be a New Yorker. One second. On the phone.

  He buzzed through again, but I was speaking once more. “Hey.”

  Trent’s voice twisted. “So you’re going to lie and avoid more camp people?”

  I sighed. “Janet and I were never close. And you don’t get it. You don’t know what I went through…”

  “Because you won’t tell me. I’ve been gone for two weeks, and you’ve not once called or even texted. I thought you wanted to change, reconnect with the group, but you’re still avoiding us.”

  I tried to be gentle. “Look, seeing you, coming here, reconnecting with Owen, Hadley, Grant, and you—that’s been huge for me. And it’s all I can handle right now.”

  I didn’t get why he was upset. When he’d gone through his divorce—the main reason he’d become a motivational speaker—Janet had ripped his ex to shreds. I mean, that’d been around the time I began leaving the group, but I’d seen the emails. She’d been vicious. Yeah, she’d been talking about his ex-wife, but Trent had loved her and married her. I knew he wouldn’t have been okay with what she was saying.

  He was silent, and I didn’t know what else to say. “Maybe we can talk more when you get here? When do you arrive?”

  “I’ll be coming in tomorrow evening. You’ll be free?”

  “Depends on the time, but should be. I’m usually at the courts till I close down.”

  “Okay. I’ll let you know when I’m supposed to arrive. Maybe we could go somewhere to talk?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  I frowned as we hung up. The whole conversation had been odd, not really Trent-esque, but I decided to stop thinking about it. I’d just hear what he had to say tomorrow night. Until then, I stood and turned toward my cabin.

  Grab and dash. Don’t breathe.

  I ran inside, and I swear the smell had worsened again. After grabbing pants, I had just enough time to grab the bag Reese originally packed for me. I had to gasp once, and I almost threw up. This cabin really did need to be condemned.

  Thanks, Keith. Boss of the year.

  I’d just deposited everything in Reese’s cabin when my phone buzzed again.

  Reese: At a gas station. You need anything?

  Me: Booze allowed?

  Reese: Done. Wine coolers?

  I laughed.

  Me: How about we do shots your last night here?

  I waited, but there was a second before he texted back.

  Reese: Shit. Just asked. Our last two preseason games are back home. We leave in three days.

  I knew. And I tried to ignore how my stomach shriveled at the thought. Three days. Or more like two days. That’s how much time I had with Reese.

  Reese: I bought a bottle of vodka.

  Vodka it would be then.

  Me: Always wanted to be half-Russian.

  He didn’t respond, so I tucked my phone away and spent some time on my laptop. I needed to find a few jobs to apply for, maybe email someone about my apartment. Reese had his own Wi-Fi, and he’d left it behind, so I plugged that in. The camp’s internet sucked. Since I’d be out of a job again in a few days, I figured it was time I headed back home to face the music.

  If I didn’t have any money coming in, I’d need to make some moves. New apartment, or gasp, make the dreaded call to see if I could bunk in my old room at my parents’ house. Damian and I had broken up once before, and I had asked if I could move back home. My mom said I could stay for the summer, but I’d have to pay rent. Damian and I had gotten back together three hours later, so I’d never had to deal with her offer. Now things were different.

  I had less money. Most of it had been used paying Damian’s medical bills until his parents got involved, but no one knew. How do you tell family and friends that the person you thought was going to be your husband needed to put a note in the bathroom to remind him to brush his teeth? How do you do that and not have them look at your loved one in pity or look down on him? Because keeping your dignity is a thing. Sometimes it’s the last thing you have in situations like that, and you might be surprised by how far you’d go to preserve a thing called pride.

  God.

  I had to take a breath.

  My life was a mess. Everything about me was a mess.

  Maybe Trent was right. Maybe it was time to start facing life again? I mean, I wasn’t going to sign up for a Janet session. Not about that, but opening up? Telling people? I’d mentioned it to Reese. And Grant actually knew what Damian had. Both times, I hadn’t gotten worse. Both times, I’d panicked, but I couldn’t deny that I felt a tiny bit better afterward.

  I took a breath.

  I wasn’t… I was.

  I pulled out my phone and texted before I could stop myself.

  Me: My ex had early-onset dementia. It ran in his family. His father got it super young, and he did too. It’s why we ended things.

  Me: And full disclosure, I’m gonna have a panic attack that I told you. I hope it’s not too much for our new friendship. I’m turning off my phone. See you when you get back. You don’t have to mention this if you don’t want to deal with it. Totally okay with me.

  There.

  I turned my phone off before Reese could text back. Yes. I was being a coward now, but I hadn’t been a moment before. That had to mean something.

  I left my phone on his couch, turned off the laptop and his Wi-Fi, and went to the main lodge. The team would be arriving in a little over an hour, so Owen and Hadley would be setting up the food. I’d help.

  I needed to stay busy or I was going to collapse.

  I felt him before I heard him, when they arrived.

  A hush came over the kitchen. Owen and Hadley stopped what they were doing, and Reese asked, “Where is she?”

  I’d been in the back, putting away a mixing bowl.

  Stepping around the corner, Reese saw me. His face clouded over, and he came into the kitchen.

  Only staff was allowed back here, Reese didn’t care. No one said a word as he crossed past Owen and Hadley and took my wrist. He tugged me to Owen’s office and shut the door.

  “I have to—”

  “Don’t even,” he growled. He leaned back against the door, folding his arms over his chest. “You text me that and then shut off your phone? What are you? Twelve?”

  I flushed. It was a bit immature. I picked at my shirt. “Adulting is hard.”

  “Tough shit.” He pushed off from the door, stalking toward me.

  I edged back, just a foot.

  He lifted his hands, pausing mid-air, and I watched as a myriad of expressions flashed over his face. He fisted his hands, then unfisted them, then let out a harsh breath as he settled them on my shoulders.

  His tone was gentle when he spoke. “You said he hit you once.”

  I was numb.

  The feeling was spreading fast, coming up from my feet to my legs, my thighs, my stomach. It flared up my sternum, my chest. Through my shoulders. Down my arms. My fingers. Up to my neck, rising, rising until I looked at him.

  I knew a tear fell. />
  “Once, yes.”

  “How bad was it?”

  My voice was hoarse. “Does it matter? He wasn’t in his right mind.”

  “It matters.” His hands tightened on my shoulders, his fingers curving into my skin. “Please tell me the truth.”

  I looked away. I couldn’t see whatever I was going to see in his eyes as I remembered this. I wouldn’t be able to deal with it.

  The words spilled, for the first time. “He beat the shit out of me.”

  He dragged in his air.

  “It was the only time, but I’d started noticing little things. He wasn’t in control of himself anymore.”

  “What happened?”

  God. Really? My throat wasn’t completely numb. It was hurting, squeezing, tightening.

  “When I woke up, he was eating popcorn and laughing at Impractical Jokers. I got up, and he looked surprised. He didn’t remember hurting me.”

  “Fucking hell.” Reese hissed as he ripped himself away from me. His hands balled into fists, pressed at his sides, and he turned his back to me. He faced the door, his shoulders tightening.

  “He was tore up about it, and he never hit me again, but there were other things. Small things sometimes. Big things toward the end. He stole groceries from a drive-up lane. He thought they were ours, but he’d already put our groceries in the trunk. Another time, he left the oven on during the night.”

  Reese’s head raised up. His shoulders bulged.

  “His short-term memory was getting bad. He would forget things he’d done the day before. One time he forgot my name. Another time his own. Just for a moment—then he’d be back. He’d be normal again.”

  “How long?”

  He turned back, a rawness in his eyes.

  “How long what?” I could only get a whisper out now.

  “How long did you take care of him until you got help?”

  That question punched me, right in the diaphragm. He didn’t know how much guilt came with that answer, how much shame, how much pain sliced through me. “He started showing symptoms three years in.”

  “Before what? How did the relationship end?”

  I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “I can’t, Reese. Don’t make me tell you everything. I can’t. Not yet.”

  He stepped closer. I could feel him, and he spoke so softly that it broke the rest of me apart. “How long did you have to breathe for him? Before you got help?”

  I was crying.

  I couldn’t feel the tears, but I knew they were there.

  I saw them falling to the floor, some hitting my shoes.

  “Too long.”

  “How long were you guys together in total?”

  I paused, not because it wasn’t in me to answer, but because my vocal cords had frozen. One beat. Two. Three, and then I could speak again. “Seven years.”

  I’d had two years, two amazing years with my soulmate.

  He cursed under his breath, then stepped close to me. His arms came around me, his hand cradling the back of my head, and at first I just stood there.

  I had never spoken about what I went through.

  I never said any of it out loud, just explained the bare minimum to his mother before they’d stepped in to help with him. I had to write out a list of behaviors and events for a lawyer once, but that’d been it. No one else knew—until now, until Reese. My parents. My siblings. My friends. No one. And in some ways, even I didn’t know it all.

  It was out now, though.

  I had a bleak thought, standing in Reese’s arms, that Trent had gotten what he wanted. Grant had gotten what he wanted. I was dealing with life again.

  Then I crumbled.

  Reese caught me. He held me, righting me so I didn’t totally fall to the floor. He went with me, moving so we were sitting in a corner of the room, me between his legs. He folded his arms around me, and I broke apart, my sleeve stuffed in my mouth to quiet my tears.

  I was still sitting in his arms, resting against his chest when I heard people leaving the dining area.

  “You should go eat.”

  “Fuck eating.” His chest rumbled from his words.

  We heard a voice asking for Reese through the kitchen, then a tentative knock on the door.

  “Reese?” It was Juan.

  He opened the door, his head poking in and his eyes sweeping the room until he saw us. He didn’t look surprised to see how we were, just pursed his lips together a second.

  “Uh. Coach wants a word with you. We’re having a meeting, then we’re doing practice in an hour.” His eyes flashed to mine, an apology flaring. “You got some keys on you? I can open the courts for you, if you want?”

  Oh. That made me feel nice, but crappy. I shook my head, scrambling up. Every inch of me protested as I pulled away from Reese, but I had a job to do. No way would I let a camper, and a professional ball player at that, do my job for me.

  “I got it. I’m okay. Minor meltdown on pause.” It was a lame attempt at a joke, and it fell flat. No one laughed.

  Reese stood behind me. “Coach is mad at me?”

  “Uh…” Juan’s gaze fell to me again. “I think he just wants clarification, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah. I got it.” Reese’s hand found my arm as he stepped around me. “Give me a second? I’ll be right out.”

  Juan nodded. The door closed softly behind him.

  Reese looked at me. “You okay?”

  I nodded. “Totally.”

  He laughed. “You’re a shitty liar.”

  I grinned, knowing it was crooked and more just an attempt. “You’d be the first to claim that.”

  “I doubt it.”

  I lifted my gaze, feeling the dried tears caking my face. I flinched, seeing his knowing gaze, feeling him in me, feeling how he knew I was so full of shit, feeling him know the storm I’d been through, just feeling him know me.

  “Your coach wants to know about me?”

  “Probably. He knows the team likes you, but me coming right in here and skipping a meal, that’s going to raise eyebrows.” He gave me a crooked grin. “Don’t worry about it, though. I’ll explain. It’ll be fine. I don’t have a $20-million endorsement deal in the works for nothing. As long as I show up and win, he’s happy.”

  “What an understanding guy.”

  He smiled. “Think you can find me something quick to eat before I head over to smooth things out with him, just in case?”

  “On it.”

  Owen and Hadley were quiet when we came back out, but Owen being Owen, he already had a plate ready. He indicated a tray on the counter: water, milk, silverware, even salt and pepper were on there.

  “There you go. Owen’s way ahead of us.”

  “Thanks, man.” Reese nodded to Owen.

  Owen cleared his throat, tugging one of his sleeves down, his shoulder rolling back. “No, thank you.” He jerked his head toward me. “We, uh, we heard some of it.”

  Floor open up. Let me fall through. Please. Now.

  Hadley was crying in the corner. She wiped at a tear. “I can’t even imagine. Charlie…”

  I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

  I should’ve gone to her, took her in my arms, whispered that it was okay, but I didn’t have it in me. I wanted to disappear, and as if sensing what was going on with me, Reese took my arm once again.

  “Maybe, uh, come with me? Yeah?” He looked at Owen, though, who nodded back. Owen was the one to go and take his wife in his arms.

  He was the one to comfort her.

  He was doing what I should’ve been doing, and Reese, he was being a friend. He pulled me with him, grabbing an extra apple on the way, and I knew that was for me and not him. He stuffed it into his pocket, his hand falling to mine.

  He was leading me out, the cafeteria empty, when the back door opened.

  Grant stepped in and saw us, his eyes falling to our hands.

  Reese didn’t stop. He only dipped his head to Grant, grunting, “What’s up?” Then he tug
ged me the rest of the way through the cafeteria with him.

  I was so beyond thankful for him because he wasn’t letting me make decisions. He knew I wasn’t ready to deal with the aftermath of what Owen and Hadley had just heard. He knew Grant would find out. He knew I wouldn’t want to stand there, feeling completely exposed, all my insides out in the open for them to see. And he wasn’t letting me stay and dwell.

  He went into the camp office, where his coach was talking to Keith.

  “Coach?”

  Our hands came apart.

  Keith’s eyebrows bunched together. He was wearing an olive green polo shirt today, the same khaki shorts, though. Could he ever wear something else? I doubted it.

  “Charlie?” Keith frowned at me.

  Reese’s coach cleared his throat, glancing between Keith and me. “Uh, yeah. Can we have a word? Keith, you have an office we could use real quick?”

  Keith brightened and came around the desk. He picked up his Boss mug and held it out to me. “Charlie, wash this for me?”

  Reese’s jaw clenched. He took the mug and put it on the counter behind Keith. “Charlie’s going with me to the gym. I asked her to open it early.”

  “Yeah?” Keith’s smile was wide. “That’s great. She does a good job. Don’t you, girl? Oh hey. We’re closing up early in three days, so you can make travel arrangements. I’ll cut you a check at the end. It’ll be a little short what I promised, but you did a good job—opening the gyms, taking inventory—a good job. I was just talking with Coach Winston, going over the last of the details.”

  I felt Reese’s tension.

  He jerked forward, but I grabbed the back of his sleeve. It wasn’t a firm hold, just a reminder.

  Coach Winston saw the motion and narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

  Keith was clueless, as usual. He smiled, nodding. “Since you’re here.” He grabbed a piece of paper from the counter, holding out a pen. “Mind if I get your autograph? My son will be jealous when I show it to him later.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Reese said, his eyes wide.

  Keith’s smile slipped.

  Coach Winston stepped forward, moving between the two. “If you don’t mind, Keith, I need to have a word with my player. We can do autographs later.”