One True Thing

by Lynne Jaymes

  “My other shoe is missing!”

  “It can’t be,” she comes over to help me look, but after two frantic minutes, it’s nowhere.

  “What the hell am I going to do?” I ask, panic threatening to take over. I should have a second pair in my bag, but I needed more money to replace the last pair that wore out.

  “Here,” Nina says, holding out a left toe-shoe. “You can use this.”

  I glance at it. “You have tiny feet. It’s too small.”

  She shakes her head sadly. “You don’t have a choice.”

  I hesitate for only a second before I realize she’s right. Grabbing the shoe, I pull it on my foot, stretching the back to get it over my heel. I know I’m going to regret this, but Nina’s right—it’s either wear the shoe or skip the number.

  “Ladies!” Madame calls into the room, clapping her hands and shooing us out toward the stage. Two steps in my toes are killing me, but I try to push the pain to the back of my mind and just focus on the next four minutes and seventeen seconds.

  And it works. Mostly. There’s a little wobble on one of my elements as I try to balance on the unfamiliar shoe and my fouette jete could have been smoother but I stay up, focusing on my grace and extension to try to cover for any screw ups. The audience applauds as we strike our ending poses and I exhale for the first time since leaving the dressing room.

  The minute we walk offstage, my foot starts throbbing and I limp toward the dressing room as fast as I can.

  “Jenna,” Madame reaches out with one hand to stop me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I say, and turn to go.

  “I do not think you are all the way fine,” she says, pointing to my left foot where a spot of blood is starting to show through the light pink satin.

  “Perfection is pain,” I say, echoing her lessons and am rewarded with a tight smile.

  “Ice, then heat,” she says as she focuses on the next group.

  “Yes Madame.”

  Somehow I make it to the dressing room and flop down in my corner. I’m afraid of what I’m going to see, but it’s not too bad—a raw and bleeding spot on my little toe and a blister on my heel.

  “Ugh,” Nina says, peering over my shoulder.

  “I think I owe you a new pair,” I say, looking at the stain on her shoe.

  “Don’t worry about it, I have more. Is your foot okay?”

  I shrug and rummage through my bag for the cotton pads and Band-Aids. “Nothing that a good soak won’t fix. Thanks for saving my ass.”

  Nina smiles. “The least I can do.”

  I know she feels responsible for the whole Ty situation, but it’s not her fault. “I’m going to clean up and then watch backstage.”

  “I’m right behind you,” she says.

  We watch the rest of the show from the wings and then head out to the lobby where I lose Nina in the crowd.

  “Jenna!” Gramps yells, bending down to pick me up in a hug. He may be old, but he’s still a big guy, with a barrel chest and suspenders holding up his pants.

  “Careful! You’ll throw your back out,” I say.

  “You were amazing honey,” Mom says, kissing me on the cheek. Gram shuffles slowly over and gives my arm a squeeze. Because I don’t see them every day now, I’m always shocked at how much older they are than I remember.

  “Thanks so much for coming,” I say. “When did you get here?”

  “At the start of the ballet,” Mom says. “I’m so sorry we missed the first dance.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “There’ll be other shows.” I squeeze in close to them so that other people can get by.

  “That colored girl dancing with you wasn’t half bad,” Gramps says way too loudly.

  “Gramps!” I lean into him. “You can’t say that!”

  “What? Colored?”

  I roll my eyes. Oh my God, it’s like the Beverly Hillbillies came to town. “Yes!” I whisper. “It’s African American now.”

  “Colored, black, African American…who can keep track? Anyway, she was good too.”

  I glance around to make sure nobody else is paying attention. “Her name’s Nina. And yeah, she is.”

  Just as I say that, Nina waves at me from across the room and I wave back. “Is she your friend?” Gram asks. “You get her on over here. You never bring your friends by anymore.”

  “No, seriously. It’s fine.” Gramps has no filter when other people aren’t around—I can only imagine what he’d say to her face.

  But Gram is already motioning her over. Nina looks behind her to see if Gram is pointing to somebody else, but Gram insists.

  “Hang on,” I say, walking quickly over to Nina. “Listen, my mom and grandparents want to meet you. But my gramps he’s…old fashioned is maybe a nice way of putting it.”

  Nina nods. “It’s cool. I’m sure I’ve heard worse.”

  “He promised he’d be on his best behavior, but I never know what he’s going to say.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Nina plasters on her most professional smile as she walks over to meet the folks. Gramps gives her a tight smile while he’s shaking her hand and I’m pretty sure she’s one of the few, if not the only, African American people he’s ever touched like that. It’s not that Grand Junction is all that backwater. We have a Dairy Queen and a Sonic and the second grocery store in town opened last year. It’s just that the older people have a certain mindset about things and they’re usually not shy about sharing it.

  “So where are you from dear?” Gram asks.

  “Just outside of Austin.”

  “Oh! I have a cousin that lives there. Elenore Frish—do you know her?”

  “Gram, Austin is a really big place,” I say. I’m trying to find a graceful way to get Nina out of here when Mitch walks up.

  “Here you are,” he says, putting one arm around her waist.

  Gramps’ eyes would like to have bugged out of his head at this point, but to his credit, he just keeps his mouth shut and smiles. I wonder if anyone else notices the bulging veins in his neck.

  “Everybody,” I say. “This is Mitch. Nina’s boyfriend.” There’s a round of ‘nice to meet you’s’ when I feel someone behind me.

  “There you are. I lost…” he starts, but shuts up completely when I turn around. It feels like all the air’s gone out of the room—an entire week of avoiding Ty and now he’s standing right behind me, close enough to touch. He looks amazing—the green button-down shirt makes his eyes shine and he’s got a new haircut. I glance at Mitch and Nina, silently urging them to get him the hell out of here. But Mitch doesn’t get it.

  “This is my friend Ty,” he says to the family.

  I want the earth to open into a gigantic hole and swallow me up. There’s a beat where the name sinks in and then everyone is suddenly animated again. “Ty!” Mom says, leaning over to give him a hug. Gram and Gramps both shake his hand and Ty looks over at me in total confusion. If there’s a God, He would take me now. Blow a massive tornado through the Arts Center, an earthquake, an aneurysm—anything would be better than this.

  “I was wondering where Jenna was hiding you! She’s not one to talk about her boyfriends, but I knew from the start you were different.” Mom says. “We’ve been asking Jen to bring you home for supper one weekend, but she never listens.”

  I can’t look at him. This must be the most pathetic thing Ty’s ever witnessed. What can he possibly be thinking? “Uh…I don’t…” I begin, but Ty takes a step forward so that he’s standing next to me.

  “Thanks so much,” he says, looking down at me with a smile. “I’ve been really busy with school and baseball.” He puts one arm awkwardly around my waist. “I haven’t been around as much as I’d like.”

  I look up at him, but he’s busy smiling at the family. What the hell?

  “Well, y’all must come to dinner with us!” Gram says. “Right now, before we head back.”

  “That’s so nice, but we really can’t,” Nina says. “It was g
reat to meet all of you.” Mitch gives a little wave as they walk back into the crowded lobby.

  “Now I don’t want to hear no excuse from you,” Gram says, putting one hand on Ty’s arm.

  He looks at me and I shake my head slightly, giving him an out. “I really should get back,” he says, gesturing over his shoulder. “There’s a game tomorrow…”

  “Nonsense!” Gramps says. “We’ll have you back before the chickens head to bed. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  I bite my lip and look over at Ty. I can’t believe this is happening. He must think I’m the biggest loser he’s ever seen.

  I can almost see the decision cross his face as he nods slowly. “Thank you. I’d love to come.”

  Chapter Nine (Ty)

  “So how are we going to do this?” Jenna’s grandfather asks as we walk out of the front lobby of the Arts Center, her grandmother leaning on my arm for support. “We don’t have room for the both of you in our car.”

  “I’ll drive,” Jenna says. Her jaw is clenched so tight that I can see the muscles in her face twitch.

  “Okay,” her mom says. “We’re parked out that way, so we’ll meet you at the restaurant?”

  “Sounds good.” We watch them walk toward the car and the minute they’re out of earshot, Jenna turns on me, her gorgeous brown eyes flashing with anger. “What in the hell are you doing?”

  I’m not ready for this. I thought she’d be happy I covered for her. “Um…helping you out?”

  “Don’t do me any favors! Now they think that you’re my boyfriend or something.”

  I fold my arms across my chest—I have no idea why she’s mad at me now. “Seems like they already thought that.”

  I see some of her resolve weakening. “That…that was a mistake. Gram kept hassling me about meeting a guy, so one day I just pulled a name out of thin air.”

  “My name?” For some reason, I love that she gave them my name.

  She rolls her eyes. “I was on the phone…she was bugging me about a boyfriend and I saw your bike…”

  “So this had nothing to do with me?” I say.

  “No. It was all before…” Jenna waves her hand in the air, but we both know what she means. Before I touched her in the most intimate places. Before I felt her writhe and shudder under my hand. Before she tasted the salt on my skin. Before I promised a lot more than I could deliver.

  Every feeling I’ve had this week comes rushing back. Missing her. The guilt I felt the minute I walked out of her front door. Hating that guy she met at the Union. I want to rewind everything to her doorway that night and have a shot to do it all over again. “I’m sorry.” That’s it. There’s not much more I can say. Because I am. Sorry.

  “Sorry?” Jenna throws the word back at me and the passion in her face makes her even more beautiful. “Do you know how many guys I’ve let into my bed this year? None. Not one. Not until you came along and said all the right things. For some reason, I thought you’d be different. So I let you in. I let you touch me and then you couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. Who does that?”

  People are passing us on the sidewalk but I don’t even care. “Total assholes,” I say, my eyes steady on her. In the past few minutes I’ve started to believe I might actually be able to make this work, keep her from finding out what I really am. It’s not lying, not exactly. It’s just not full disclosure. For both of our sakes. “Only a total asshole would do that to you because you didn’t deserve that. You deserve a lot more.”

  That seems to take all of her words away and I see tears spring up in her eyes. I want to reach up and wipe them away. I want to pick her up and carry her to a big, wide bed somewhere and start up where we left off the other night. But I know I have to play it cool this time.

  She turns away from me just as a big, white truck drives by and honks at us. We both wave at her mom and her grandparents as they head for the street.

  “We’d better go,” I say.

  Jenna looks at me in disbelief. “You’re still coming?”

  The last thing I want is to let her out of my sight again. “If you want me to.”

  She gives the smallest nod of her head and I’m more relieved than I could imagine. There’s still a chance.

  “How about we start over?” I suggest.

  “Start over how?”

  I look at her and put out my hand. “I think I’ve seen you around. My name’s Tyler. But everyone calls me Ty.”

  Jenna hesitates, then takes it, her soft skin brushing mine. “Jenna.”

  “I live over on Live Oak, if you want to get together sometime.”

  “How funny,” she says with a tiny smile. “I live on Live Oak too.”

  I snap my fingers. “That’s where I know you from. Black lace panties in the laundry room?”

  “Stop,” she says, but I can tell that most of her anger is gone. I feel better than I have in days.

  “Where did you park?” I ask, looking around the crowded lot.

  “Over there by the light,” she says, and we walk in silence to her car.

  “I’ll drive,” I say, holding out my hand for the keys.

  “I can drive,” she says, reaching into her bag.

  “Look, I may not be from Texas, but I know old guys like your gramps. If we pull up and he sees you driving me around he’s going to think I’m a pussy. The only reason I’m not driving you on my bike is that Mitch drove to the show tonight.”

  Jenna hands me the keys and I walk her around to the passenger door. “Why does it matter what Gramps thinks?”

  “It matters,” I say, opening it for her. I walk to the driver’s side, but her seat is so far forward I can’t even get my legs in. “Elves must be driving this car,” I say, reaching around the front of the seat and pushing it back as far as it will go.

  “So you know they’re going to grill you?” Jenna says as she gives me directions to the restaurant.

  “I’m familiar with how this works,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road. “How long do they think we’ve been going out?”

  Jenna looks out her window. “A couple of months.”

  I nod and try not to smile. A couple of months. “Right. So how much do I know about them?”

  “Let’s see…Gramps is a retired mechanic, had his own shop in Grand Junction for almost fifty years. Gram was a teacher until they got married, but then she stayed at home to take care of my mom and my uncle. Mom is a hairdresser with her own shop just outside of town and sings in the church choir on Sundays. That ought to catch you up.”

  “What about your dad?”

  I can see her shrug out of the corner of my eye. “Gone. Mom got pregnant with me freshman year of college. They got married and all, but a few months later Dad decided that he wasn’t old enough to have a wife and a kid so he got out of there.”

  I suddenly picture Jenna as a little girl with her mom all on their own. I have a sudden urge to take care of her. “And you don’t see him?”

  “Nope. He sends me cards on birthdays and Christmas. Sometimes there’s a twenty in it. Sometimes there’s not.”

  I feel even worse than I did when she was yelling at me. “That sucks.”

  Jenna sits up in her seat. “Take a left here.” She turns and looks at me. “So what about you? If we’ve been together this long, I should know something other than you play baseball and come from San Francisco.”

  I pull into the parking lot of a rundown little shack just off the highway. “Not very exciting really. My dad is a weatherman on TV.”

  Jenna laughs. “Like the guy in a suit in front of the map, pointing out where it’s going to rain?”

  “Yep. That guy,” I say, easing her car into a parking space right up front. “For the past twenty years, KTVI’s most popular meteorologist. Trust me, that doesn’t make high school any easier.”

  “What does your mom do?”

  “She’s…gone.” I have no idea why I said that, except that I can’t tell her the truth. The truth would lead
to more questions and then photos and there’s no way I can ever let that happen.

  I can feel Jenna’s eyes on me. “Did she die?”

  I nod. I don’t mean to, but it seems like the easiest way out of this.

  “I’m sorry,” Jenna says and I instantly feel shitty. I shouldn’t have said anything. We get out of the car and I see everyone waiting for us by the front door. I don’t miss her gramps taking note of the fact that I drove.

  “Do you have any sisters or brothers?” Our feet make a crunching sound on the gravel.

  “One sister, two years older, in graduate school at Columbia. Her name’s Olivia.” I suck in my breath as I admit that and make a mental note never to show Jenna a photo of her either. Unlike me, Olivia can’t pass—with brown curly hair and golden brown skin, people might not know what she is, but they know she’s something. And she’d rat me out in a hot second if she knew what I was doing.

  Jenna plasters on a smile. “That ought to do it.”

  “All right then,” I say. I reach over and grab Jenna’s hand like we’ve been doing this for months. It feels surprisingly natural and terrifying at the same time.

  I hold the screen door of the restaurant open as everyone files in ahead of me. It’s not so much of a permanent building as it is a giant portable trailer, broken up with large tables and worn vinyl chairs and a big buffet right in the middle. It smells like all of the best parts of a country fair in here as we wait in line for the cashier.

  “Clay’s Fish Barn,” Jenna says, one hand noticeably on my arm. “They’re only open on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. All the catfish, fries and hushpuppies you can eat for one low price.”

  I see her gramps dig his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans.

  “I’d like to pay for myself. Sir.”

  He laughs, his large belly rippling up and down. “That’s right nice of you son, but I won’t hear of it. My treat.”

  “Thank you sir,” I say. Jenna gives my hand a squeeze.

  After we pay for the buffet and grab our plastic drink cups, we walk out to the main room which is humming with families, truckers and cowboys of all kinds sitting at communal tables or jumping up to get more food. The first thing I notice is that every single person in this place is white and I wonder what would happen if Mitch and Nina had come along. I suspect Jenna’s gramps would have chosen another place to eat. Nobody even glances at me as we walk toward a table and for a second I feel like a spy. I look around at all of the happy families sitting in front of plates loaded with fried food, not having a clue that there’s a black guy walking through the restaurant and sitting at their table. Nina’s wrong. It would matter a hell of a lot if my secret got out. Luckily for me, people usually only see what they want to see. It’s what they know about you that matters and for all any of these people know, I’m as white as they are.