by Marcy Blesy
“You made that up?”
“I didn’t make it up for just you to believe. I felt like I needed some reason, some story as to why I was living in Andersonville when I’m from Iowa.”
“But you rarely go home to Iowa to see her—?”
“Kelcy and her sister have visited me in Andersonville a few times. She can leave this nursing home whenever she wants to…”
“On New Year’s Day?” I ask.
“How’d you know?”
“Because you said your older sister was coming to visit, and you never mentioned an older sister on this trip.”
“Right. Kelcy’s older sister Liz pretty much stopped her life to take care of Kelcy. Their parents are older and can’t take care of her daily needs. I mean, she can’t do much of anything on her own, and with her brain injury, it’s…hard. Liz was always like an older sister to me, too. She did a lot with Kelcy and me. Remember how I told you once that my brother and sisters would always have cookie decorating contests at our house?” I nod. “Well, Kelcy and Liz were always part of that. They were both like family.”
“But why does Kelcy think she’s still your girlfriend?”
“Mae, I couldn’t break up with her, not after what I did. It’s my fault she’s living like that. My dad knows it better than anyone. He’s disowned me. It’s a miracle I was even allowed to visit home since my contact with my siblings is completely controlled. The last time we talked, he told me what a disgrace I am for a son and a poor role model for the other kids. He’s right.”
“Matt, you cannot think like that. You didn’t mean to cause that accident. You were young and stupid, but you didn’t set out to injure your girlfriend. You can’t live your life with this guilt.”
“Do your hear yourself?” he asks.
“I know, I give the best advice I don’t take myself, but you know I’m right. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you…do you still love her?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Mae, I—”
“It’s okay, Matt.” I close my eyes to hold back my tears.
“I do love her. I always will.”
“I…I understand.” I swallow hard to choke back my own full body heaves I feel are ready to erupt. “Is…is there a bus that will take me home?” I ask.
“A bus?”
“Yes, so you can stay and be with Kelcy.”
“Mae, I don’t want to be with Kelcy. I want to be with you.”
“But you said—”
“I said that I love her, but it’s not the same kind of love I feel for you.” This time when he touches me, I don’t flinch.
“We’re pretty broken people, aren’t we?” I ask.
“Yes, broken is the perfect description.” He takes my hand and looks at me. “Do you still love me?” I lean in to kiss Matt. Our lips meet with an intensity that speaks of the desires of our heart: to be loved for who we are and to be forgiven for our past. I love Matt. I really do, but I can’t shake the feeling that maybe someday I’ll be just like Kelcy, the girl Matt chose to leave. Greg didn’t walk out on his wife when she lay dying of cancer. That was true love. Can I love a man who chooses to leave when times get tough?
But can I choose not to love Matt? No, I cannot. Love zigzags on a never-ending path toward what? Happily ever after? Is there such a thing?
“We’re in this together now,” I say.
“You sure?” he asks.
“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” I close my eyes as he kisses my lips again, sealing our commitment to the uncertainty that lies ahead.
Thank you for reading To Forgive Me, the third book in the To Know Me Series. Please consider leaving a review at Amazon or Goodreads. I really appreciate your time.
To Choose Me
Table of Contents:
Chapter 1:
Chapter 2:
Chapter 3:
Chapter 4:
Chapter 5:
Chapter 6:
Chapter 7:
Chapter 8:
Chapter 1:
To choose me is difficult, I mean, to really choose me, no matter my faults and imperfections, no matter how screwed up my emotions can be. But when you’re the one having to choose someone else with imperfections, too, learning to accept yourself is easier in some ways. Overall, the summer has been great. Matt and I spent nearly every day together whether we were working at Stewart’s Steakhouse, him cooking in the kitchen and me trying to grin and bear it with the ungrateful customers that frequent the higher end restaurant or hanging at his apartment playing video games. Sometimes we did nothing at all but curl up on the couch reading books we’d checked out at the library. There’s something very romantic about reading Pride and Prejudice with the guy you’ve fallen for sitting next to you reading The Count of Monte Cristo.
My favorite part of our summer was my realization that I have athletic coordination, way more than just putting my feet to the pavement, one foot in front of the other. And to think it took a lot of begging and pleading on Matt’s part for me to agree to join his co-ed softball team. To my surprise, as well to the others on the team who hadn’t all welcomed my addition, I was actually pretty good. Sure I strike out sometimes, but I’m a good runner and stealing bases is usually successful.
I take the last box from Mom and Greg’s apartment and put it in the backseat of my car. It’s not nearly as hard moving out of their apartment as it was moving out of my childhood house that held so many memories of my family that is no more. Greg’s been so sweet, though. He’s a bit too passive for my tastes, but I appreciate his not wanting to fill my dad’s shoes, which the literal thought of makes me giggle since my dad was at least a half foot taller. He told me I didn’t have to leave on account of their wedding, that I could stay as long as I wanted to, but I’d realized after only a couple of months living with them this summer, that it really was time for me to get my own place. Mom is trying too hard to please everyone, straddling her old life with her new one. Once I’d made the decision to get my associate degree at Andersonville Community College with one more year to go, I figured I’d find a small apartment and sign a one-year lease. What I do after that remains a mystery. Of course, Matt wants me to join him at the University of Illinois where he will transfer in a couple of weeks with his ROTC scholarship. I’m not going to make the same mistake again that I made when Ty wanted me to follow him to the University of Michigan. No. I’m going to do what’s best for me and my future. Sometimes being selfish is the best way to ensure everyone’s happiness.
“Are you going to leave without saying good-bye?” says Mom from behind the car.
“No, Mom. I would never do that.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking about life.”
“Whoa, don’t go getting all philosophical. You’re only moving a few blocks away.” She laughs, but I just don’t have it in me. “Macy, you don’t have to do this. We’ve told you over and over that—”
“No, Mom. I’m happy to be moving out.”
“Oh.”
“No. That’s not what I mean. I’m happy with my decision to get my own place. It’s all the other stuff I’m nervous about.
“Matt?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you regretting not transferring to U of I?”
“I don’t regret my decision, but we both know how well long distance worked for me and Ty.”
“Honey, Matt is not Ty. You know that.” I close my eyes and sigh. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see.” I wish I could look into a crystal ball to see that Matt’s Prince Charming persona would last, that the love we have is real, the forever kind. Is that what Kelcy wished for once with Matt, too? Before her accident altered her future chance for happily ever after?
“I’d better go, Mom. Matt and I have our softball championship game tonight.”
“Well, they wouldn’t want the star base stealer to be late
.” I smile. What did I deserve to be blessed with the best mom in the world, especially after treating her like crap when I ran away in high school?
“Thanks, Mom, for everything. I’ll call you after the game.”
“Good luck.”
My apartment building sits on a hill in the center of town, which seems odd planning by the city council since giving precedence to a restaurant or hotel would make more sense with the great view of the city, but you won’t get any complaints from me. I love it. My bedroom has a balcony that faces west. The sun sets over Lake Anderson, which makes this place a step up from any of the apartments I lived in during my year on the run—no, a whole staircase of steps better.
I pull on my softball slider shorts Matt insisted I buy. “Trust me,” he’d said. “There’s nothing worse that shaving skin off your thigh when you’re trying to steal home.” I’d been a baby about it until the second game of the summer when I’d slid into third base with a close throw from first hitting the glove of the third baseman a mere millisecond after my foot touched the base. I beat the throw but earned a giant raspberry on my butt that hurt like hell. Matt drove straight to the sporting goods store after the game, and I bought two pairs of slider shorts, both in pink, his perfect caramel mix of girly and independent.
I put on the team uniform next: gray pants and navy blue t-shirt that says Andersonville Alligators on the front. What the heck? We live in the Midwest. Alligators, really? I pull my long brown hair through my baseball hat and tighten my ponytail. A dash of lip gloss, a tightening of my cleats, and I’m ready. Matt will no doubt be pleased that my shirt seemed to shrink since the last time I washed it. Laundry on my own has never been my strength.
Today’s game is important, at least in the softball world. It’s what the whole season has been leading up to: the city championship between the leaders of the two divisions in town, the Andersonville Alligators vs. the Andersonville Alley Cats. Now that’s a cool name. Alley cats are scrappy and tough, sneaky and quick. In my opinion, they already have the advantage purely because they have the better name.
A knock at the door sends me flying around my room throwing things in my duffel bag that’s serving as a bat bag. Matt said I should be ready because he wants to go to the batting cages at the city park first. He’s going to be pissed that I can’t seem to find my mitt. I toss pillows off the couch and push hangers around in a frantic search in the back of my closet. Where is that darn glove? Matt knocks on the door again. Ugh.
I open the door. Matt is standing there shaking his head back and forth with a scowl.
“You’re not ready, are you?” he says.
“Sorry. I can’t find my glove. Don’t be ticked. At least I’m dressed.”
“That’s supposed to make me happy?”
“Just help me find the stupid thing, okay?” Matt takes the duffel bag from my hand and pulls me toward him. His lips are so warm. They’re always warm, like he’s in a perpetual state of working out.
“Get your purse. Let’s go,” he says. He releases me, but I’m light-headed now. “Your mitt is in my car.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?” I ask.
“Because I enjoy watching you squirm.” His eyes twinkle with pride. It’s so hard to stay mad at him.
Matt has been appointed unofficial captain of the softball team. He is leading a pregame pep talk, but all I hear is lot of blah, blah, blah. It’s much more interesting to watch the other team warming up on the field. We’ve played the Alley Cats before. It was a close game. In the last inning, one of their guys hit a two-run homer out of the park. It had been impressive. Though I’m fairly competitive by nature, I was a lot less affected by that loss than Matt had been. He’d skipped the after party at the local Pizza Hut to go home and sulk. I went to the pizza party and had a great time without Matt. The people on our team are pretty cool actually. I wouldn’t have thought that Matt’s gamer friends, Caleb and Leo, would be such good softball players. We have a bit in common, too. Though Caleb and I had gone to the same high school, we didn’t hang out, but he’d known Sarah and her death was a topic we talked about a lot. He had a lot of funny stories about her antics in class, though I don’t think she ever gave him the time of day. Leo’s quiet, but he does the best impersonations of people that you can’t help but laugh at when he starts in on someone. I guess he spends all his time studying people rather than talking aimlessly. How else could he copy them so perfectly? That night Matt was home sulking about the softball loss, I gave Leo my phone to call Matt. He had him going for a good two minutes before he realized he wasn’t talking to me. Matt was angry, but Leo, Caleb, and I still talk about Leo’s killer acting job.
“You got that, Mae?” asks Matt.
“Huh?” I kick the dirt. “Yeah, sure, babe. I got it. Right here.” I tap my baseball hat. Leo laughs on one side of me with Caleb on the other.
“Good. Let’s avenge that loss and bring home the championship,” says Matt. We each throw a hand in a pile as a sign of solidarity or something and chant Alligators! Alligators! Alligators! I love Matt. I really do, but whether we win or lose this game and bring home this trophy is of no consequence to me. I mean, we don’t get individual trophies like we did when I was little and played soccer and everyone got a trophy for simply participating. No, Pizza Hut gets our trophy if we win since they sponsored our team. I suppose I could try winning for free pizza. Plus, truth be told, if I can just get on base, then I can work my magic. It’s the getting on base thing that I still have trouble with.
We’re in the field first. I take my place in right field, far away from most of the action. All I have to do is pay attention to where the ball lands. I’m sure as heck not going to try catching it. Last time I tried, I bent my finger back, and it hurt like a sucker punch to the gut.
The game is one out away from being over. Our team is losing by two runs, and it’s my turn to bat, the exact position no one ever wants to be in, unless you’re some superjock softball player, which I am not.
“Come on, Mae. You’ve got this. Remember practice?” I nod my head yes like I understand what Matt’s telling me to do, but he knows better. He grabs my shoulders and turns me to face him. “Mae, bunt it. Hold out the bat, and let the ball hit it.” I shake my head yes again and take a deep breath as I walk to the plate. I hear the team yelling my name. That does not help, for the record.
The first attempt at bunting goes awry when I foul tip the ball for the first strike. All I have to do is get on base. I’m confident that Matt can bat the third base runner in, and if I’m fast enough I can steal bases and up my chances at scoring and forcing a tie. A final deep breath, and I throw the bat on my shoulder. The last thing I hear before the pitcher lets the ball fly is Matt yelling, “You can do it, Mae. You’ve got this.” And I do. The ball is fair, rolling in front of the plate instead of behind it when it makes contact with my outstretched bat. I take off for first. The Alley Cats are hollering for the play at home, so I know I have time to get to second base, which I do, just as the umpire is yelling safe for Leo’s slide into home.
Matt is up to bat next, naturally. He grabs the tip on his hat and pulls it more firmly on his head like that’s supposed to give him some advantage or something. He also flashes me some hand signals. I guess maybe paying attention in the huddle would have been a good idea. I nod like I understand what he’s saying, put one foot on second base, and stretch the other foot in the direction of third base. All I have to do is get around two more bases, and we’ll force a tie and Matt will get that chance at victory he’s craving.
He looks so cute standing with his hip cocked to one side and his butt slightly out. He looks more like a football player than a baseball player, but he could play any sport and crush it. I’m starting to feel a little sad knowing that our days together are about to get a lot more infrequent when he leaves for school in a few weeks. I’ve said goodbye before, and it didn’t work out so well. Only Matt’s not Ty, and we’re in a
lot better place as a couple than Ty and I were when he left for the University of Michigan.
“Mae, run!” I hear from the dugout. Caleb is jumping up and down and yelling my name. Matt is already rounding first base. Head down, I sprint for third, touch the base, and keep going. It’s our only chance for a tie. “Slide!” I do what my team is yelling, though I know I’m going to get a nasty bruise.
The umpire makes a fist and yells, “Out!” That can’t be right. I’m not out. I’m Macy/Mae Tatum, sprinter and long distance runner. I am not out, but no amount of arguing by my teammates can sway the umpire’s ruling. I wasn’t fast enough today. Just like that, the Alligators lose to the Alley Cats. No free pizza for us.
Matt is quiet after the game. I know he’s pissed, but I am not apologizing for being called out. That was not my fault. His silent treatment over a stupid softball game is ridiculous anyway.
“I’m just going to take you home,” says Matt. “I’m pretty beat, and I have to work tonight.”
“Fine,” I say. “You’re not a whole lot of fun anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
“You’re being a baby, Matt.”
“I am not being a baby. I just don’t understand why you didn’t take off running when I hit the ball,” he says, turning into the parking lot of my apartment building.
“I did!”
“No, you didn’t. It was like you were stuck in some thought bubble until Caleb starting screaming at you.”
“I…I...well, I….” He’s right. Focusing on softball has not been my priority. “Fine, Matt. I’m sorry.” He shuts the car off and turns to look at me. I can’t help but start laughing the way he’s looking so angry right now. Even when bubbling over with frustration, he’s cute. He wrinkles his brow, but the twinkle in his eye lets me know he’s having a hard time staying mad. “Matt, it’s your fault you looked so hot at bat.”
“You were thinking about my butt?” he asks.
“Well, at first I was, but then,” I wipe away the laughter tears, maybe to make room for the serious ones that want to pour out all of a sudden. “I was thinking about your leaving.”