One True Thing

by Lynne Jaymes

  “Not really,” he says, sitting up and putting the book face down on the table. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

  I sit up too. “Sounds serious.” A ball of dread settles into my stomach. I search his face but I can’t tell what’s going on.

  He looks down at his hands. “I should have told you that very first night. And I was going to, but then we started messing around…”

  I feel my breath catch in my throat, my mind racing. “I knew there was something you weren’t telling me.”

  Ty swallows hard. “Look, I totally understand if this changes everything. It’s just—”

  The doorbell rings and we both look toward the door. “The Chinese food,” I say, almost forgetting that we ordered dinner half an hour ago. I’m not even the tiniest bit hungry now.

  “We can let it go,” Ty says, a heaviness in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.

  The doorbell rings again, more insistently this time. I pull myself off the couch, feeling like I’m in a fog. “We have to get it.”

  “Okay.” Ty stands up too. “Can you grab the door? My wallet’s in the bedroom.”

  “Sure,” I say, running a hand through my hair and reaching for the knob. But it’s not the Chinese food.

  A surprised-looking African-American woman is standing at the door, and for a split second I wonder if she’s looking for Nina. She’s probably a little older than my mom but very well-dressed in a dark suit and tiny kitten heels.

  “Can I help you?” I ask, when she doesn’t say anything.

  She glances behind me into the apartment. “I’m not sure. I’m looking for Tyler.”

  Now I’m confused. Maybe she has something to do with baseball? Do scouts dress in business suits? “He’s here,” I say, opening the door wider. “He just went to get something out of his room.”

  “Thanks,” she says, stepping through the doorway, both hands on a beautiful Hermes bag she’s carrying in front of her.

  “Ty!” I call back to the bedrooms. “There’s someone here to see you.”

  “Okay,” he says, coming back into the room. “Be right—” But the rest of the sentence trails off when he sees the woman standing in the living room. He looks shocked, but doesn’t make a move toward her, just stands in the middle of the room with his wallet forgotten in his hand.

  “Mom?”

  Chapter Nineteen (Ty)

  The word just hangs there as the air around us seems to shatter into a million pieces. I can’t even look at Jenna—I don’t want to see the expression on her face right now because I know it will probably kill me.

  “Surprise?” Mom says, shrugging a little, her voice unsure. “I had a conference in Houston so I thought I’d come up here and watch a game this weekend.”

  “Hi!” I say, trying to recover. I give her a quick hug. My mind is racing and I have no idea what to do now, if there’s anything that can save me. “Mom—this is Jenna.”

  All of the color has drained out of Jenna’s face, but she does what she can to recover. “Nice to meet you,” she says, holding out her hand to shake Mom’s. She won’t even look at me. “I um…I have to get going…” she says, looking around and grabbing for her things. “Really…very nice to meet you.” Jenna’s out the door before I can even move.

  I hold up one hand. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Mom and rush into the hallway after her. Jenna’s already in front of her apartment by the time I catch up. If I let her slip through that door that she’ll be gone forever.

  “Jenna! Stop—you have to let me explain!” I shout at her.

  She turns on me and I see tears welling in her eyes. “I have to let you…” She stops and I can see that she’s breathing hard. “You told me your mother was dead! You said that she’d died when you were ten!”

  “I know. I know.” I lick my lips. My mouth is suddenly very dry. “But when I said she was gone, you just assumed she was dead, so I went along with it. Because it was easier…”

  “Easier than what?” she shouts. “Easier than telling me the truth?” She reaches for the doorknob.

  “You have to listen to me! I didn’t mean for it to get this far—in fact that’s what I was going to tell you tonight, no lie. I couldn’t keep it from you any longer.” I say, panic rising in my chest. I reach for her hand, but she pulls it away. “But when I came here and joined the team, everyone thought I was white and after a while there was nothing I could really say about it. And then I met Gramps…”

  “You leave him out of this! What you did has nothing to do with him.”

  “It has everything to do with him. And everyone else who thinks like he does!” It feels like nothing I say will make her understand. “Don’t you get it? Everyone needs to put people like me in a box—black, white or other. It’s not about what people see, it’s about what they know and the minute people know I’m mixed, everything changes. Gramps wouldn’t have let me near your house if he’d known who my mother is. I wouldn’t be the nice, blond, white guy who’s dating his granddaughter. I’d be the product of an unholy union and he’d make damn sure I never saw you again.” I can hear my voice rising with every word, but I can’t do anything about it.

  “This isn’t about who your mom is. This is about you lying to me. About everything.” Jenna looks up, the tears in her eyes spilling down her cheeks. I want so desperately to take her in my arms, to erase the past five minutes and go back to the way we were.

  “Look,” I say, afraid to stop talking, because if I do, she’ll tell me that she never wants to see me again. “There was no easy way to bring it up. I love my mom, and I’ve felt like shit not talking about her this whole time. She’s an amazing woman and my father is an amazing man and they’ve been married for twenty-something years. But I had to start over when I got here, and letting people go with their assumptions about me was part of it.”

  Jenna’s eyes are narrow as she looks me over. “It’s like I don’t even know you. Everything has been a lie. From the first minute I met you, nothing has been the truth.”

  “That’s not fair!” I say. I feel her slipping further and further away from me and I’m scrambling for anything I can say that might bring her back. “Yes, I didn’t tell you that I was mixed, but everything else is true!”

  She puts her hands on her hips, but that doesn’t hide the hurt in her eyes. “Really? Tell me one true thing! Just one.”

  Everything around me stills and I try to put all of my emotions into one sentence. The only sentence. “I love you.”

  There’s a flash of weakness on her face, but in a second, it’s gone. “It’s not enough,” she says, pushing her door open and slamming it behind her.

  I stare at her closed door, all of the things I should say roaring through my head. I put one hand on the surface, feeling the cold, solid wall between us. It feels like she’s a million miles away, not just on the other side of this door. I walk slowly back to my apartment, almost forgetting that Mom is still standing in the middle of the room.

  “Sounds like you really blew that one,” she says.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. Now to deal with the second part of this disaster. “You heard?”

  “Oh honey, the whole building heard.” She walks over to my couch and sits down, patting the empty seat next to her. “Come and tell me what’s going on.”

  I flop down next to her and she puts one arm around me. Instantly I’m six again, inhaling her perfumey smell and hoping she can fix whatever it is I did wrong. “I fucked up. I really, really liked her and I royally fucked it up.”

  Mom, surprisingly, lets the swearing go. “She seemed nice. Pretty girl too.”

  “She’s gorgeous,” I say. “And smart. And a dancer. She’s an amazing dancer.”

  “And you told her that I was dead?” There’s no anger in her voice, but it’s almost worse that way.

  I sit up. “I didn’t mean to. But everyone here just assumed I was white—you know how people are sometimes. And after a little while I could
n’t exactly correct them. I mean, how do you even come out with something like that? And then I met Jenna, and it seemed easiest to just keep going with it.”

  “If you were serious about this girl, you know she’d find out the truth eventually. You could keep passing for a long time, but eventually, things were going to have to get real.”

  “I know. I thought about it all the time. I even broke up with her at first because I couldn’t stand feeling so shitty about it. But then things just kept getting better and better and I could never figure out how to have that conversation.” I can’t tell her what she interrupted. Two more minutes and I’d have said it. Of course, things probably would have ended up the same way.

  Mom smiles. “Once you killed me off, there was no going back on that one.”

  I wince. “I’m sorry about that. It was stupid. I just couldn’t explain why there weren’t any pictures of you around and that seemed to be the most logical explanation. At home it’s different—people know you and Dad so Olivia and I make sense. Here, by myself, I don’t make sense. I don’t blame you for being mad.”

  “I’m not mad, baby. People have been passing for centuries and when you did it, you had your own reasons—reasons that seemed huge at the time. Just don’t let your nana find out about this because she’ll rip you a new one.”

  Just then the doorbell rings. I rush to open it, thinking that Jenna’s changed her mind, but it’s just the guy with the Chinese food. The smell is making me sick, but I pay him quickly and carry the bags to the coffee table. “We were…about to have dinner,” I say. I can’t believe how much has changed in such a short time.

  “Did you get mu shu?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then why don’t you find us a couple of plates and let’s eat. I’ve had a long day and I’m starving.”

  

  “Go Ty! Go baby, go baby, go!”

  That’s all I can hear as I round second and sprint toward third, throwing myself into the slide and beating the ball by a fraction of a second. It’s like Little League all over again and Mom is the only one in the stands. She tries, but the woman is incapable of staying quiet during a game.

  “That’s my baby!” she shouts. I glance into the seats in time to see her high-fiving a man next to her and I have to smile. Javonda Branch never had a hard time making friends. By the end of this game everyone’s going to know the truth, but I don’t even care anymore. Now that Jenna’s gone, none of it matters anymore. In between pitches at the plate, I look up into the seats, but Jenna isn’t in any of them. Not that I expected her to be. She hasn’t answered any of my texts or calls since yesterday. I turn back to the game, trying to put all my focus into the next few pitches and forget about the rest of it.

  The game ends with me still on third, but it doesn’t matter because we’re up by four.

  Mitch hasn’t said anything to me about Jenna, but I know he knows, and as we pack up our things in the dugout he keeps sliding looks at me. He’s waiting for me to bring it up, but I can’t. Because then it will be real.

  There’s still a good-sized crowd outside of the locker room by the time I’m done changing, and I see Mom right in the middle of it all. Mitch walks out just after me and nudges me in the shoulder. “You going to introduce me?” he asks, nodding toward her.

  I stop walking. “You know?”

  “Of course I know. Nina and I don’t keep secrets.” He slides a glance at me and gives me a sad grin.

  “How long have you known about my mom?”

  “After you decked that guy in the bar. Nina made me promise not to say anything.”

  I sigh. “That’s why I was avoiding her at first. White people believe what they see in front of them but black folks always know.”

  “Honestly, I don’t think it’s a big deal.”

  I shake my head. “Tell that to Jenna.”

  “She’ll come around,” he says.

  I feel a glimmer of hope flutter in my chest. “You think? Did she say anything to Nina?”

  “Not really. Nina called her and got the bare-bones info, but she didn’t tell her that she knew. Jenna’s pretty pissed at you right now, I’m not gonna lie. But give it time.”

  We walk over to the group, where Mom is waving her arms in the middle of some crazy story as everyone around her laughs. “Tyler, baby!” she says, reaching up and kissing me on the cheek when she sees me, despite the fact that I’ve asked her a million times not to do that.

  “Hey,” I say. Mitch nudges me from behind. “Uh, Mom, this is my friend Mitch.”

  “Hello friend Mitch,” she says. “Was that you I saw with four strike-outs in a row?”

  “Yes ma’am,” he say, surprisingly somewhat sheepish.

  “Branch!” A hand claps me on the shoulder and I turn to see Coach standing behind me. “You scurried off before I could tell you that there were a few people from MLB in the stands today—no scouts yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

  “How about that?” Mom says with a grin.

  Coach looks at Mom and then back at me. I take a deep breath and begin the inevitable. “Coach Castro,” I say, “this is my mother Javonda Branch.”

  To his credit, he only hesitates a fraction of a second before reaching out to shake her hand. “Don’t believe we’ve met, ma’am,” he says.

  “We haven’t,” she says. “Tyler’s father came with him on the recruitment trip.” A couple of guys on the team stop nearby and I watch them look at Mom and then back at me—you can practically see them putting the pieces together, trying to find traces of Mom on my face. When we were little, nothing pissed her off more than being mistaken for our nanny. I don’t make eye contact with anyone, just focus on Mom and Coach.

  Coach puts an arm around me. “Well your boy here has been on fire all year. Don’t know if he mentioned it, but there are several major-league organizations that have been talking about him for next year.”

  Mom cocks her head at me. “Is that right? You’d think that’s something a boy would tell his own mother now, wouldn’t you.”

  “Mom, please,” I say. “I didn’t want to tell you guys until there actually was something to tell.”

  Coach winks at her. “I’ll make sure he passes on any necessary information from here on out.” He smacks me on the back. “I have to get going—right pleasure to meet you.”

  “You too,” she says, watching him go. “What a nice man. Nothing like that old coach you had in high school…what was his name? The one who would pull his hat down over his eyes and pout in the dugout when a game wasn’t going well?”

  “Coach Collins,” I say. I look around and more than a few people are staring at us. “Don’t you have to get back to Houston to catch your plane?”

  She looks at the delicate gold watch on her wrist, the one Dad said was from us for Mother’s Day a few years back. “I should get going,” she agrees. “Nice meeting you Mitch.”

  “You too ma’am,” he says.

  We walk toward the rental car mom has parked in the rec lot. “So that wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asks.

  “Not yet,” I say.

  “I take it Jenna hasn’t answered any of your calls.”

  I shake my head. “How did you know I was calling her?”

  “You’re my son. I know a lot more about you than you think. Give the girl a few days—there’s a lot for her to think about. If it’s meant to be, she’ll come back.”

  “You sound like one of those motivational posters.”

  “Whatever works.” We pause in front of a new, silver Audi.

  “Tell Dad I said hi,” I say as she unlocks the car. Having her here makes me realize how much I miss them.

  “I will.” She pauses. “And don’t worry, all of this will stay between us.”

  I give her a hug and a kiss. “Somehow I doubt that.”

  Chapter Twenty (Jenna)

  Staring at the red numbers on my clock is getting me exactly nowhere, so I sigh and pull myself out of
bed even though the alarm isn’t set to go off for another hour. Might as well go to the café and grab a cup of coffee before class. I can’t stand being in the apartment anymore, knowing that Ty is in the same building, breathing the same air. So many times in the past week I’ve wanted to knock on his door or answer his texts but I’ve forced myself not to. This is about trust, and that’s one thing he’s proven I don’t have with him.

  I dress in my workout clothes and pull my hair back into a quick ponytail, closing the front door softly behind me so as not to wake Courtney. I creep past his apartment and down the stairs, but when I open the door to the parking lot, his bike isn’t in its spot and I get a kick in the middle of my stomach. Ty hasn’t been around much lately, but where could he possibly be at 7am on a Friday morning? In someone else’s bed, that’s where. Good to know he’s not taking things too hard.

  The morning is still cool, so I walk to the café, trying not to run through our last conversation in my head for the millionth time. I pull out my phone and open it to the selfie that I took of the two of us leaning against his bike a few weeks ago. I’m a wreck, but Ty looks gorgeous as always. His full lips that just beg to be kissed, the strong nose, the dirty blond curls that he keeps cut short—it all makes sense now. I put the phone away, but I can’t bring myself to delete the image.

  After getting my latte I set it on an empty table and glance around the cafe. It’s pretty empty this early, but the people who are here have their eyes on their phones or buried in a thick stack of books. I watch a guy walk up to the rack in the corner of the room and pull out a new copy of the Garvin Gazette. As he passes by, I see a familiar picture on the front page and it’s like the universe is torturing me. I can’t believe it. I go up and grab one just to see for sure and there he is staring at me from the front page with the headline Garvin Player Scouted by MLB. I skim the first few sentences:

  For the first time in two seasons, a first-string Garvin State player is being scouted by several teams in Major League Baseball. African-American center-fielder Tyler Branch has had an amazing season so far, with 98 RBIs and an overall batting average of .350.