One True Thing

by Lynne Jaymes

  The first words of the second sentence hang in front of my eyes and for a moment, I get a tiny sense that Ty might be right. He’s no longer just a Garvin player or the league leader in RBI’s, he’s the African American player who’s doing all of these things. He hasn’t changed, but the way everyone sees him has.

  “Happy Birthday to youuuu.” I hear the beginnings of the song and look up, sorry for the poor sucker who’s going to be embarrassed so early in the morning, only to see Stewart walking toward me with a blueberry scone on a plate with a candle stuck in it. I can’t believe I forgot.

  “Make a wish,” he says, setting it down in front of me while the whole place erupts in applause. I can’t bring myself to wish for anything, so I just close my eyes and blow it out. “Happy Birthday sweetie,” he says, sliding into a chair across from me.

  “Thank you,” I say, leaning over the table to kiss him on the cheek. “I can’t believe you remembered. How did you know I was here?”

  “I didn’t. I came in to get a scone to surprise you with at the studio and there you were, looking all sad and pensive.”

  “I’m not sad and pensive,” I say, breaking off a piece of the scone and putting it in my mouth. I haven’t eaten much lately—something that has made Madame give me several compliments. Apparently heartbreak is wonderful for a dancer’s body.

  “If you say so. Would you look at that?” Stewart turns the paper around so that he can read it. “It’s like the universe is giving you the finger, isn’t it?”

  I look at the upside-down photo of Ty. “Exactly.”

  Stewart looks at me carefully. “Ain’t no chance you can just let this all go? Ty’s very sorry.”

  “How do you know he’s sorry?”

  A guilty look crosses his face. Stewart was always a crappy liar. “I just assumed…”

  “Stewart…”

  “All right. I happen to know that he’s been staying on his teammate’s couch for the past week.”

  I stare at him. No wonder I haven’t seen his bike. “Which teammate?”

  Stewart pops a piece of my scone in his mouth with a dramatic eye-roll. “Fine. Rowan’s couch. And I might have been over there a few times lately.” He shoots me an evil grin.

  “Don’t you dare say anything about me!”

  “Don’t worry,” he says, holding both hands up. “My lips are sealed. And anyway, Ty doesn’t talk much—one of those strong, silent types. But he just oozes unhappiness.” He looks up at me. “Kind of like someone else I know.”

  “Seriously. Stay out of this,” I tell him.

  “Don’t you worry about it,” he says, shoving the plate back at me. “Now finish up your birthday scone.”

  I have to endure another round of the birthday song at the studio, which is totally embarrassing, and a little sad now that I don’t have anyone to share it with. Dance is my only class on Fridays, so I’m glad to get out of there and have the rest of the morning to myself.

  “I didn’t know it was your birthday!” Nina says, catching up to me as I rush out the door. I have to admit I’ve been avoiding her lately. Seeing her is too close to Ty for me right now.

  “Yeah,” I shrug.

  “Are you doing anything? Want to go out with us tonight?”

  The thought of sitting at a table with her and Mitch is enough to make me crazy. “My folks are coming up to take me out to dinner. But thanks.”

  I turn to go, but Nina stops me. “Did I get implicated in something here?”

  I shake my head. “No.” I wait for her to say something more, but she doesn’t. “It’s just that the past week has been really hard. And Mitch is his best friend so…”

  “So now we can’t be friends?”

  “I just…” I’m surprised when tears fill my eyes so I wipe them away quickly. “I just can’t stand to see him. I’m afraid I’m going to run into him when just thinking about him or seeing his picture near about kills me.”

  Nina puts one hand on my arm. “Then why not talk to him?”

  “Because he lied to me. About everything—about his family, about who he was…I can’t trust anything that comes out of his mouth.”

  Nina shrugs. “Okay, he did tell you that his mom was dead. Which was wrong. But did he really lie to you about any of the rest of it? Or did you just assume something that turned out not to be right?”

  Her words twist the knife that’s been thrust in my insides all week. Ty never actually said that his parents were white. Because why would he? I just looked at him and figured they were.

  Nina squints at me. “I almost think it’s harder for folks like Ty, being asked ‘what are you’ over and over again their whole lives. Me? Everybody knows I’m black. No surprises there. But Ty’s both, with one foot in each world and sometimes I suspect it’s not enough for either of them.” Nina leans forward. “How much of this is the fact that Ty lied to you, and how much is the fact that he’s not who you thought he was? That he’s not a hot, lily-white baseball player anymore?”

  “It’s not that!” I say quickly. Too quickly. Because this is the thought that’s been running through my head since I first answered the door. It was hard to get my head around the fact that this beautiful, obviously successful black woman was Ty’s mother. It still is. And I don’t like that fact. I’m not like Gramps. I just wish I was totally convinced of that. “I just don’t want to feel like shit anymore.”

  “I know,” Nina says, grabbing me in a big hug. It feels good to have arms around me after feeling so alone these past few days. “Just don’t shut me out too, okay? Lets hang out this weekend?”

  “Okay,” I say, grateful that she pushed this conversation. “I’ll call you. I promise.”

  

  There’s a knock on our front door, so I check my lipstick in the mirror and turn to Courtney, who’s been sworn to silence. Mom knows that I broke up with Ty. But she has no idea why and I want to keep it that way. “Let’s do this.”

  “Happy birthday darlin’,” Gramps says, picking me up and twirling me around like I’m still five years old.

  “Hi Gramps. Hi Mom,” I say, kissing her on the cheek. The hallway is empty behind them. “Where’s Gram?”

  “Her arthritis has been acting up,” Mom says. “So she didn’t want to take such a long car trip. But she sends her love.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Gramps says walking further into the room.

  “Gramps, you remember Courtney?” He’s met her several times, but with him you never know.

  “Of course I do. You’re coming to dinner with us tonight, aren’t you little lady?”

  “Yes sir,” Courtney says. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  The fact that he doesn’t mention Ty means that Mom has drilled it into his head the entire way up here not to say anything.

  “Happy Birthday baby!” Mom says, pressing a small gift into my hands. She pulls back and looks at me. “So hard to believe that twenty years ago I was in the hospital holding a tiny, perfect baby girl.”

  “Seriously, Mom.” But I don’t mean it, because she basically says a version of this every year.

  “Are you going to open it?” She’s practically bouncing with excitement, which is weird. She always gives me a gift certificate to H&M because she says she has no idea what I like.

  “I guess,” I say. I pull off the tiny ribbon and lift the lid on the box to see a folded piece of paper. I glance at her and then unfold the paper to see that it’s a printout of an email. “What is this?”

  “Two tickets to New Orleans on May 15th,” she says. “Surprise!”

  “Okay…” I say, still not understanding what she’s up to. “I’ve always wanted to go to New Orleans.”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “And what else have you always wanted to do?”

  My mind’s a blank. “I don’t know…dance at the Met?”

  Mom sighs. “Audition for American Dance! Which is happening in New Orleans on May 17th! Surprise!�
��

  I look back at the email. “You got me tickets to get to the American Dance auditions?” I fling myself at her in a hug. “That’s amazing! I can’t believe it!”

  “And a hotel room too,” Gramps says. “It’s not the Ritz, but it looks safe enough.”

  “And you can take anyone you want,” Mom says.

  “Ooh! I volunteer,” Courtney says.

  “Deal!” I read the email for the third time. “How did you know?”

  “It’s all you ever talk about at home. And after seeing you in the recital, I knew I had to help you try.”

  “Just remember to thank us when you’re rich and famous,” Gramps says.

  “I will!” I give him a hug. “Thank you!”

  “And I’ll take that soda you were about to offer me,” Gramps says, glancing toward the kitchen.

  “Right,” I say. “I was just going to get one. Mom?”

  “No thanks baby.”

  I walk into the kitchen, my head spinning with possibilities. It’s just less than a month away. How can I possibly get ready in a month? I’m going to have to book extra practice time at the studio…work up a new audition routine. I should go online and look at some of the past auditions to see what’s worked and what hasn’t. I pull a soda out of the fridge and twist the top off and look through our glasses for one that’s big enough and clean enough.

  “Here you go,” I say, walking back into the living room. Mom is talking to Courtney about something by the door and Gramps is sitting on the couch. I’m setting the bottle on the coffee table when I notice what he’s got in his hands. The Garvin Gazette. Shit.

  “Here you go Gramps,” I say. “Let me just take that.” I reach for the paper but he yanks it away.

  “What does this mean?” he asks, shaking it at me.

  “Looks like Ty might get recruited by the majors,” I say. I glance at Courtney, but she’s staring at me, eyes wide with horror.

  “Do I look like a dumbass? Not that. This!” He flicks the page with his finger. “It says here that your boyfriend is colored. Is that true?”

  I have no idea what to say here. “I guess it is.”

  “You guess?!? That blond-headed boy’s been passin’ as white this whole time and all you can say is ‘you guess’?”

  Mom walks over to us. “Is this part of the breakup?”

  “I should hope so!” Gramps yells, his face red and the veins standing out on his neck.

  I shake my head. “I…I met his mom. And yeah, she’s African American, but that’s not the point. When I found out he’d lied…it was over. It had to be.”

  Gramps smacks the paper back on the table. “We let that boy into our home! Set him down at our table for supper.” He stands up and paces a few steps. “I’ll bet he didn’t even use that money to fix the bike.” He points at me. “That’s how these people operate. Give you some sob story so that you’ll open your wallet and then keep taking your money until you’re bone dry.”

  I stare at Gramps. Even with everything that’s happened Ty doesn’t deserve that. “That’s not true. He got in an argument with some guys at the bar. Guys that were fighting with his friend over Nina being there. And when we came outside they’d trashed his bike. He used the money to get it fixed.”

  “That’s what you think,” Gramps says. “These people always stick together. Did you see the invoice? We’re never going to see a nickel of that money again.”

  “Dad,” Mom says. “This isn’t our issue. It’s for Jen and Ty to work out on their own.”

  “Ain’t nothing to work out,” he says, taking a swig from the bottle. “Ya’ll are finished. I don’t want to hear one word about that no account boy come out of your mouth as long as I live. Am I clear?”

  “What’s say we get our things and go out to a nice dinner?” Mom says, picking the ribbon up off the floor. “We don’t want to spoil Jenna’s birthday.”

  “Can’t say as I’m hungry now,” Gramps says, slamming the bottle down on the table. “But you’re right. Let’s get going.”

  Courtney isn’t saying a word, just gets her bag and follows us out of the apartment.

  And, of course, who do we bump into walking up the stairs with an empty box? I haven’t seen Ty since I ran out of his apartment that day, and my body responds to the sight of him like I never left. My heart is racing as I take in his longer hair, with the curls starting to sprout at the top and the blond scruff that’s lining his jaw. If anything, he looks better than ever.

  “Oh!” Ty’s as surprised as I am. “I…I just came back to get a few things.” He looks down at the dirty carpet. “I’m not staying here anymore.”

  “That’s fine,” I say, slipping past him, still close enough to smell his spicy scent “Let’s go,” I say to everyone else.

  Gramps is having none of it. He walks up to Ty and pokes him in the chest with a meaty finger, the lodge ring on his finger looking deadly. “Listen boy…I’m onto you. I know what you’ve been trying to pull and I’m not standing for none of this bullshit. You might have been able to fool my granddaughter, but you can’t fool me. I knew there was something fishy about you the minute I laid eyes on you and it pains me to be proven right. I want every penny of that money returned—no excuses, you hear?”

  I can see Ty’s jaw working as he stands there and takes it from Gramps. I’ve already seen him take a guy down with one punch, and although his fingers are white where he’s gripping the box, he makes no move toward Gramps. “Yes sir. Of course I’m going to get—”

  “Don’t you ‘sir’ me!” Gramps steps back with a look on his face like he stepped in shit. “If I ever catch you near my granddaughter again I’ll have your hide. And I mean that in the literal sense. Lynching ain’t been gone from Texas for very long, and don’t you forget that.”

  “Dad!” Mom says from behind him. “That’s enough.”

  I race down the steps before anyone can say anything else. I can’t hear another word. I don’t want to admit that Ty was right. That Gramps would only let him in over his dead body if he knew the truth.

  Courtney catches up to me out in the parking lot. I don’t even remember coming through the glass door, don’t even realize I’m outside. She puts one arm around me without a word and I lean into her shoulder, tears already forming in my eyes. Behind her I see Ty’s gorgeous red Triumph that I’ll never ride on again.

  “Happy Birthday to me.”

  Chapter Twenty-One (Ty)

  The dude walks around the bike twice, bending down to look at the starter, one hand on the tank like he already owns it. I hate him right this second, even as much as I know I need him.

  “I don’t know,” he says straightening up and putting on hand on his chin. “There are some scratches on the pipes here and I heard a clicking noise when it turned over.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it,” I say. “The engine’s cherry. $10k and you can drive her away right now.”

  He looks at the bike and then at me, patting the passenger seat. Jenna’s seat. It takes everything I have in me not to smack his hand off the spot.

  “Eight thousand and it’s a deal,” he says.

  I shake my head in disgust. “Eight? I’ve got way more in it than that. Nine-five is my final offer.”

  “No way.” He brushes some imaginary dust off the speedometer. I can see the hunger in his eyes when he looks at her and I know he’s in. “I could maybe come up to nine. But not a cent more.”

  I sigh and stick out my hand. This is it. The second-best thing in my life is about to slip through my hands again. “Nine-two cash, and it’s a deal.”

  “You’re killing me,” he says, but shakes my hand.

  A few minutes of paperwork and I see the taillight of the Triumph as he drives it away from the curb. I desperately want to run after it, to tell the guy that I changed my mind, but I don’t. I just stand there watching until he turns a corner and disappears.

  “Fuck,” I say, walking back into the house and throwing
the wad of bills on the table.

  Rowan looks over from the couch where he and Stewart have been watching TV all afternoon. “You sold it! That’s good, right?”

  “Yeah. No. I don’t know.” I flop down into the armchair. “Seems like I don’t know fuck-all these days.”

  Stewart peers around Rowan. “You didn’t have to sell it you know. Jenna’s gramps would have gotten over it. Not like he needs the money.”

  “Yeah I did,” I say, trying to get the image of the back of the bike out of my head. “You didn’t hear him the other day. I can’t let him think I’m really like that.” I can’t let Jenna think I’m really like that.

  “Noble of you,” Rowan says, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Stewart’s lap.

  I look up at the clock. Might as well get this over with while I have time. “I’m going out. See you at the game.”

  The guys wave and settle back on the couch. Rowan’s been great to let me crash there but it’s hard hanging with a couple who’s so happy right now. Right now. Jenna and I were that happy not too long ago, which is why I had to get out of our building. I can’t stand having her so close to me, yet not being able to say a word.

  It takes me almost half an hour to walk to the student union. Now that the bike’s gone, I’d better get used to it. I guess I have enough to buy some crap-ass Honda, but after the Triumph, nothing’s going to be the same. I open the door and try not to think about what it was like the last time I was in here with her. I didn’t even take the green shirt that Jenna picked out with me to Rowan’s because it hurts just to look at it. I don’t know what I was expecting—not like I could have kept Mom from her forever. I guess I just hoped it would be long enough that it wouldn’t matter. Except I’m not sure how long that would have to be.

  I walk quickly past the clothes and the books and stop in the stationary section. There are rows and rows of blank books and journals and I look at them all, until I see the perfect one for Jenna. It’s black and has a graphic of a ballet shoe on it. I pick it up to make sure that it’s lined so that she can write in it.

  “May I help you?” a woman in a Garvin polo shirt asks me from two feet away.