“Remember at the game, when I mentioned Justin?” I asked.
“I recall that,” he said, nodding.
“Well, we were always friends, and I thought we were getting more serious than that. And then he told me it was okay if we were just friends.”
“You don’t want to be friends?”
“No, I do. That’s not what I mean . . .”
“You mean, you want to be more than friends?” Sacamore asked.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“But he doesn’t?”
“He doesn’t what?” I was getting confused.
“Want to be more than friends?”
“Well, I think he did, but he thought I didn’t, so he said he’d let me off the hook and we could just be friends.”
“Uh-huh,” Sacamore said. “I’m completely confused.”
“Yeah, join the club,” I said.
We both began to laugh. It felt really good to laugh—it wasn’t something I did a lot. I looked at Sacamore as he was laughing. His eyes squinted shut, and his dimples showed through his five o’ clock shadow. At that moment, I believed he truly cared about helping me.
Sacamore sucked back the laughter and gave a typical therapist solution. “Well, Taylor, as I always say, if you have a problem with someone, the only way to remedy it is to talk it over with them and be honest about your feelings. If you like this guy, tell him. What bad could come of it? He said you’d always be friends.”
“Yeah, I know. We could always talk, but it seems harder now. And the last time I tried your talking thing, it wasn’t exactly successful.”
“You mean with your father?”
“Yeah.”
“Would you share with me what happened with him?”
I shrugged. “I tried to ask him straight out why he didn’t like me, and he denied it. He said he was a busy man and I was being silly.”
“Go on.”
“He got pissed and said he was the only parent around, if I hadn’t noticed,” I said, mimicking him sarcastically.
Sacamore perked up when he heard that. “That’s it, Taylor.”
“What?”
“He answered your question.”
“He did?” I said.
“Yes. He let you know he’s upset about being the only parent.”
I put up my hands and asked, “How’s that telling me why he doesn’t like me?”
“Because it doesn’t sound like he’s angry with you. It sounds like he’s angry with your mother.”
My mother? I’d never thought about him being mad at her. I always thought he was glad she was gone. I thought he’d wanted her to leave. He never acted like he missed her.
“You think so?” I asked.
“Could be.”
“But that doesn’t explain why he treats me like garbage,” I said, still confused.
“No, but it should show you he has other things on his mind, just as you have other things on yours, like Stacy, school, baseball . . . He may not realize he’s ignoring you. Just as you may not have realized you were ignoring Justin with all those other things on your mind.”
“I wasn’t ignoring Justin,” I said defensively.
“Does he know that? Does he know how you feel about him?”
“No, not exactly . . . but he knows I care,” I said softly.
“Are you sure? It’s a two-way street, Taylor. Your father may think he’s sending you the message that he cares, but he’s so preoccupied with other things that the message isn’t coming across clearly.”
Wow! This guy was making a lot of sense—but maybe too much all at one time. “Whoa,” I said, “information overload.”
He smiled. “Pretty heavy stuff, huh?”
“You said it,” I answered.
He glanced up at the clock. Our time was almost up. “So listen, Taylor. When you leave here today, just remember one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Remember that we all have our own problems. If someone hurts you, it may not be intentional. They may just be thinking of something else.”
“I got it, Mr. Sacamore,” I said, moving toward the door.
“Good luck with Justin,” he said. “And don’t give up on your dad.”
After practice, Justin’s skater friends and I were hanging out in Justin’s basement, playing video games and eating all the junk food we could find. I was sitting on the couch, flipping through an issue of Sports Illustrated. I wished everyone would leave so I had a chance to tell Justin how I really felt. Everybody except Tommy and me had gone upstairs to get more snacks.
Tommy slapped the magazine out of my hand as he sat down next to me. “You’re such a jock, Taylor.”
I whacked him with the magazine. “Jerk,” I said, pretending to be pissed.
“Oh, you wanna mess with me?” he said.
“I’ll drop you like yesterday’s trash,” I answered, making a fist.
“That’s it. It’s on!’ He jumped up and started doing his Muhammad Ali impression. “You see the footwork I got going on here, Baseball Girl? Huh? You’re going down.” His shorts were so baggy, his legs looked like pencils.
I started laughing. He jumped on me and pretended to punch me in the head. I couldn’t stop laughing. “Knock it off, Chicken Legs!” I yelled. He flipped me over and sat on my back.
“What you gonna do now, Tough Girl?”
I picked up the magazine. “Read,” I said.
He picked me up again, so I was hovering above the couch. “Here comes the body slam!” he said, dropping me to the couch, then falling on top of me. We were both laughing. As we untangled, he asked, “You and Justin aren’t a thing, right?”
I didn’t want anyone else to know about our business, so I said, “No. Why would you think that?”
“No reason,” he answered, and then he stared at me for a minute.
“What?” I said.
And then he kissed me on the cheek. “Want to go out to my car and fool around?” he said, just as Justin was coming down the stairs. Stunned, I didn’t move a muscle. Then I quickly wiggled to a sitting position, and Tommy moved back toward the video game, trying to act natural. But I knew Justin had seen us. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs for a minute, put down the bag of chips on the side table, and said, “I gotta make a call. I’ll be back.” He hustled up the stairs.
“Shoot,” I said and ran up after him.
“I thought you guys weren’t together!” Tommy yelled behind me.
I got up to the kitchen in record time, but Justin wasn’t there. Ray was staring into the fridge. “Where’s Justin?” I asked.
“Uh . . .” Ray looked up, thinking. “He said he needed some air or something. He took my car.” He laughed and added, “Sounded like something my dad would say—‘need some air.’”
I pushed open the screen door, but Justin was gone. I wasn’t going to give up on him. I’d talk to him later when we got a chance to be alone.
CHAPTER 18
When I arrived home from Justin’s house that afternoon, I saw a strange car in the driveway. I went around to the back kitchen door and heard a familiar voice. Turns out my brother, Brian, was home from college. I wondered what was up. He still had a few weeks before finals. Even during the summer, when he had no classes, he usually stayed with his buddies at the shore. He rarely came home.
I walked into the kitchen and saw Brian standing by the oven with his arms folded. Some girl was perched on a stool, leaning on the counter. Brian sighed and said quietly, “Hey, Taylor.”
I could tell something was wrong. Normally, he’d just call me a dork and smack me in the head as a greeting. “What are you doing home?” I asked.
“This is Lori,” he said, nodding toward the girl on the stool.
“Hi,” I said.
Brian moved to the counter and said, “T, I have some bad news, but I don’t want you to get upset.”
I stood there, waiting for the rest.
“Let me start by saying he
’s okay and everything, but Dad’s been in a little car accident.”
I felt like I was going to throw up. “What? Where is he?”
“Relax. He’s at the hospital—St. Mary’s. He’s got a broken arm and a concussion, so they’re keeping him overnight for observation. But I’m here, so you guys don’t need to worry.”
I put down my book bag and sat down on a stool. I was waiting to see how I felt. Dad was hurt? In a car accident? So when I was talking about him with Sacamore earlier in the day, he was probably lying on the road or getting put in an ambulance. I imagined what it might’ve been like. He was bleeding, and the paramedics were saying, “Sir, can you hear me?” They were going through his wallet, trying to find out who he was. The nurse was sticking tubes in him and saying, “Contact the family.” While he was going through all that, I was complaining about him. Sacamore was right. I never thought about anyone but myself.
“T,” I heard Brian say. “You okay?”
I snapped out of my trance. “Yeah. Can we go see him?”
“I was waiting for Danny to get home, and then we’ll all go.”
I jumped off the stool. “I’m gonna go now. I’ll ride my bike over there.”
“You sure, honey?” the Lori girl said. “We have my car.”
But I was already at the back door. “I’ll see you there.”
I pedaled as fast as I could toward the hospital. I knew Brian had said Dad was okay, but I had to see for myself. I kept thinking about what Dad had said after our barbecue. He was the only parent I had, even if he was a crappy one.
It was beginning to rain, and I was beginning to cry. My tears mixed with the raindrops and made a trail along my cheek before being swept away by the wind.
When I reached the hospital, I was sweating but cold. I dumped my bike on the grass and went in through the emergency room entrance. Instead of asking anyone where he was, I darted down a long hall, peeking inside rooms to look for him. The hospital wasn’t that big, so I was sure I’d find him. And I did. I passed the elevator doors, and then I saw him. He was in the last room. The door was wide open, so I could see Dad lying in bed. His arm was in a sling across his chest. An old man was sleeping in the bed next to him. When I stepped into the room, Dad opened his eyes.
“Taylor, hey,” he said slowly. “Are the boys here?”
I stood very still. “They’re coming soon,” I said.
He propped himself up on the pillows and said, “Well, don’t worry. I’m fine. They’re just going to keep me overnight for observation. Brian will get you guys dinner and everything.”
He was so calm and matter-of-fact. I was standing there, wet and shaking, looking him over and wanting to hug him. But all I did was reach out and touch his broken arm. I stared at my hand as I touched his arm, as if his arm would break again if I pushed too hard.
Dad seemed uncomfortable with me touching him. He patted my hand and tried to make light of the situation. “I’m fine, Taylor. Go on home and get something to eat.”
I pulled my hand away and backed up until I hit a chair that was against the wall. I sat down and said, “I’ll wait for Brian.” I searched for a reason to stay and watch him. “It’s raining. I can’t ride my bike, ’cause it’s raining,” I stuttered. I didn’t know why, but I just had to stay. He must have realized he’d have to put up with me for a while, so he closed his eyes and sighed.
“I’m just going to rest my eyes for a few minutes,” he said, laying his head back on the pillows.
I watched him closely from my chair. He looked tired, and his hair, from lying on it, was pushed up on one side. I’d never seen my father look helpless before. He needed a mother right now . . . or a wife.
After a while, I walked to the side table and poured him a glass of ice water. “Here, Dad, have a drink,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
He pulled himself up a bit.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said groggily. He took a sip and then slipped back to sleep. He’d never called me “sweetheart” before.
I sat in the chair for at least an hour until the boys arrived. While waiting, I replayed the last few months in my mind. I thought about how the only times I’d spoken to Dad in the past few months were when we fought, and then I always felt horrible. I shouldn’t hate my father. People said there was a fine line between love and hate, and I guessed that was true. I didn’t actually hate him. I just wanted him to like me, so when he ignored me, it made me mad. I’d never had anyone tell me I was good at things. No one had ever hung my report card or a picture I’d drawn on the fridge. I just wanted one picture of my dad, smiling and proud, with his arm around me. I knew he cared about me. He had to. I was his daughter. When he got better, I decided, I’d be nice to him, no matter how he treated me.
Finally, Brian came into the room with Lori, followed by Danny. Brian went over to the bed and nudged Dad. “Pop, you okay?” he asked.
Dad sat up. “Hey, guys,” he said. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Brian shouted, “The doctor says they’re letting you out of here tomorrow.” Why was he shouting? Dad hadn’t lost his hearing, had he? Still shouting, Brian said, “I’m going to pick up a pizza and take the kids home, okay? Do you need anything?”
Dad shook his head. “No, you guys go on home.”
We all said goodbye and left the hospital. We piled into the car and drove to Tony’s Trattoria for dinner. I took about three bites of the pizza and felt sick. Lori kept trying to talk to me, asking me about school and boys. I didn’t answer.
Danny spoke up for me after a while. “Taylor plays baseball,” he said. “She’s a pitcher.”
That shut her up. I guess she didn’t know how to talk to a girl who played baseball. I was happy for the silence, but wished Justin were here. I needed to talk to him before something happened to him and I lost my chance. I got up from the table and said, “I’ve got to make a phone call.” Brian looked up. “You want my cell phone?”
“It’s kinda personal,” I answered shyly.
“Well, take it outside,” he said, reaching into his pocket and fishing out his phone. “Don’t wander too far.”
I took the phone and walked outside. I dialed Justin’s house, and his mother answered. I asked for Justin, and then a few moments later, he got on the phone.
“Hi, it’s Taylor,” I said.
He answered quietly, “T, what’s up?”
“I really need to talk to you. Can you meet me at my house in like a half hour?”
“T, we already talked,” he said, sounding defeated. “It’s all good.”
I knew he was going to say that, so I used my situation to my advantage. “No, Justin . . . My dad’s been in a car accident, and I could use some company.”
“Crap, Taylor. Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s going to spend the night in the hospital. So could you meet me?”
“I’ll be there. Half hour?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Hang tight,” he said and hung up.
When we got home, I headed upstairs to my room. I figured Justin wasn’t coming for a while, if he was coming at all. No, he was coming. He was the one person I could count on. I flopped on the bed, stared at the ceiling, and zoned out for a while.
I thought about the game yesterday, striking out ten batters. Man, that was a rush. I hadn’t felt a surge of power like that since I threw those bricks through the school windows. I definitely liked striking guys out and throwing with all my might. It was better than breaking windows, and easier than talking to people.
There was a tap on the door. “You in here?” Justin asked.
I sat up fast and smiled. “Yeah.”
He walked over and sat on the bed. “How’s your dad?”
“He’s got a concussion and a broken arm, but they said he’ll come home tomorrow.”
“You handling it okay?” he asked, concerned.
I nodded my head. “Yeah, I think he’ll be fine.”
We sat in silence
for a while. Then Justin said, “You want to listen to a CD to get your mind off it? I’ve got a few new bands in my book bag.”
I looked at him and said slowly, “I didn’t ask you over to talk about my dad . . . I wanted to talk about us. And what happened in your basement this afternoon.”
“Taylor, it’s no big deal. We’re just friends, remember? If you’re interested in Tommy, that’s cool with—”
“Justin,” I said, cutting him off, “I’m not interested in Tommy. That was just a misunderstanding.”
“It looked like you were having fun with him.”
“We were just wrestling, and then I guess he thought it was something more.” I paused and took a breath. “He caught me completely off guard. After you left, I told him I wasn’t into him. I swear.”
Justin looked relieved. He sat quietly for a minute and then said, “Thank God. I mean, if you’re going to go with someone else, you could do a lot better than Tommy.”
“I thought you guys were friends,” I said.
“Oh, Tommy’s my friend, but he’s an idiot.” Justin laughed. “Remember the time he took that test in Geography class and wrote that the capital of New Jersey was New York?”
I smiled. “But that was a long time ago.”
“Nope. He was still in ninth grade then!”
We both laughed. It felt good to be laughing with Justin again.
“Thanks for clearing that up about Tommy,” he said. “I feel better now.”
“Well, there’s more,” I said, eager to get on with it.
He kicked off his shoes and pulled himself up on the bed, leaning on one elbow. “Let me get comfortable first,” he said, teasing me.
I took a deep breath. “OK, well the thing is, when we had that talk in the woods, I felt like you misunderstood what I was thinking about you. You thought I didn’t want to be more than friends, but that’s not exactly true.”
He looked confused. “It’s not?” he said.
“No. I guess I was just preoccupied with baseball and my dad and getting suspended and all that stuff, and I kind of forgot to tell you how I was feeling.”
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