by Felicia Lynn
She looked directly at my mother with disgust, but in that stare, I saw pity for my mother. Then returning her gaze to me, I watched it fill with love. “You’re selfless and kind, which I knew already, and I’ve benefitted from watching you gift that to my own flesh and blood. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that. The new part, something I’m sure very few realize and that I’ve sadly just come to understand, is your forgiving heart. Honey, to have been raised in a home where your spirit, beauty, and achievements were not appreciated is a pity, and I’m glad you’re resilient and haven’t let that destroy you because it would have for most. You’re the strongest girl I’ve ever met, and I love you. For all that you have overcome. For all that you are now. And all that you’ll be one day. I’m prouder of you than I ever thought I could be of anyone.”
She embraced me again when she finished speaking, and with unashamed flush, wet cheeks, she turned and left the room without bothering to give my mother another look. That was the first and only time I’ve ever witnessed Sandra Baker stunned to silence, and there has never been a mention of that moment since. We left the restaurant promptly after the encounter, and my parents made an unexpected early departure back home, my father oblivious to the reasons why. I spent my time during parents’ weekend not missing my parents, and instead, hanging out at George’s eating, studying, and even helping roll napkins and silverware when they were extra busy.
My heart fills with happiness at having Sue’s open acceptance of my budding friendship with Tyler. Even though she’s not my mother and she’s met and knows Ty well, it seems, it still feels a little like introducing my family to a new friend. It’s another first time experience for me.
We wait for our food, and the conversation is pretty limited allowing us both to ride the high of our backroads motorcycle ride. I actually want to get to know him better so, pulling on my big girl panties, I decide to initiate a more informative conversation. “So you play baseball. That’s cool. I don’t know much about the sport actually, but I’d imagine if you play in college that makes you pretty good.” It’s lame, I know, but getting-to-know-you sessions when you actually care are awkward. I would have thought my years of conversing with strangers would be beneficial.
His eyes wander the room until I mention the sport. I then have his full attention, and his face lights up. “I’ve been breathing baseball ever since I was introduced to the sport when I was younger. I suppose I can admit that I’m decent, if that doesn’t make me look like an egotistical jock. Have you ever been to a game here?” His chuckle is musical, but his smirk is by far his best look, and I take a second to enjoy the sight before answering.
“I haven’t ever been to a live game. I’ve seen baseball games on television in passing, but actually, I’m sort of embarrassed to admit I’ve never even watched a game on there. I guess I’ve never been a sports person, but my dad is. He goes to sporting events when he travels, but I’ve never tagged along.”
Jamie, Sue and George’s son, comes over to the table with our food placing it in front of us. Jamie is tall and the epitome of a Southern country gentleman. He’s normally behind the bar on the other side of the restaurant, but I’m not surprised he elected to deliver the food to our table. After putting the food down, he shakes Ty’s hand with the typical, “Good seeing you, man.” Then he leans in the booth and kisses my cheek. “Hey, baby girl. You having a good day?” he asks.
Jamie and I are close. We’ve been that way for three years now. Instead of standing to chat, he slides into the booth next to me, and I happily move over giving him room as he looks at me waiting for a response. “Yes, guess what? Ty gave me a ride on his motorcycle. Oh. My. God. Jamie. It was incredible.” I’m giddy retelling the experience as Jamie and Ty look at each other and laugh.
“How are the girls? And you? I haven’t seen you around much.” I ask, before taking an unladylike-size bite of a bacon cheeseburger. Thankfully, I know they’re all great, and the reason he’s been away is because of the healthy version of family time. A well-deserved Disney trip with his wife and daughter is the best reason to be away.
Jamie’s face lights up. His smile beams as wide as the dark night sky, and his eyes twinkle like the stars. “Disney was the most perfect form of torture. Screaming kids everywhere you turn. Early mornings and late nights leaving you so exhausted it takes every ounce of your strength to carry yourself back to the hotel at night much less carry a kid.” His words are telling a much different story than his body language. I know he loved every minute of it and would do it all over again in a heartbeat. “Maisey and Trace missed you so much, though. Maise talked about you constantly and couldn’t wait to shop for a special souvenir for you. I’m sworn to secrecy, though, since she wants to surprise you with it Monday night. Everyone agrees that next time you’re coming with us.”
Ty observes the interaction quietly, likely surprised by the closeness of my relationship with the Taylor family. They may love everyone who walks through their restaurant doors, but they still have favorites. I know I’m the favorite of all the favorites and much closer to family. He makes no attempt to engage in the conversation and instead continues to indulge in his Rueben sandwich and hand-cut fries. But I don’t want him to be a third wheel or feel like an outsider on the other side of the conversation, so I explain. “Jamie and his wife have an amazing daughter, Maisey. She’s my all-time favorite kid in the world. She turned nine last week and her birthday wish was a trip to Disney World.” He nods and flashes an approving smile telling Jamie to wish his little one a happy birthday.
The lunch crowd starts flooding in, and Jamie climbs out of the booth to get back to work. Before leaving us, he looks over at Ty reaching out to shake his hand again, and Ty accepts and clasps his hand. Jamie looks at him intently while holding firm in the handshake. “Take care of her, man. Be safe when she’s in your care. Got me?” he asks.
Shocked by the boldness and protective nature, Ty nods. “Yeah, man. I got you.” Then Jamie turns to me. Leaning down, he places his hand on the back of my head and pulls me to him placing a kiss on my forehead. “See you Monday night. Trace is making your favorite lasagna.” I smile, grateful for his family’s love, then shoo him away so he can go back to work and I can resume the getting-to-know-Ty conversation. I watch him walk away and laugh when I see him look over his shoulder at Ty and me as he tries to figure out the relationship.
Turning my attention back to Ty, I relieve his confusion by explaining. “I’ve been really close to the Taylor family since Maisey was diagnosed with cancer when she was six. Maisey was in and out of the hospital for the better part of a year. I would visit and keep her company to give Tracy and Jamie time to run home and shower, meet with doctors, whatever. I loved spending time with her even though it broke my heart to see her so sick. The family and I got pretty tight through that ordeal.” He sighs, and sadness laces his expression. Ty doesn’t talk much, but I’m learning that he listens and hears everything. I point at his plate motioning for him to continue to eat, and then I continue. “Maisey is healthy now. She has been for eighteen months, thankfully, but before that, it was a scary time for the entire family. They didn’t really talk about it so most people don’t know how hard it was, but I spent a lot of time with them so we grew really close.”
“I’m glad she’s healthy now, Charlie. And I’m glad you were there for them through all that. It explains why Jamie, who’s always been real cool with me, just threatened my life with his handshake and stare.” The sip of Sprite that I take to wash down my last fry almost gets snorted through my nose. I have to cover my mouth as I successfully swallow it harshly while trying to hold back the laughter.
“That’s not true. He wasn’t really threatening you. He was just asking nicely,” I defend, but Ty knows the truth and so do I. Jamie may not kill him for hurting me, but he certainly wouldn’t suck it up and pretend it was all okay.
Ty raises his eyebrow and smirks signaling he knows differently, but I’m not wo
rried about it since Ty and I are just friends. Ty moves the conversation along asking about my major and sorority life. He even asks about my relationship with Morgan. I learn he was shocked to discover we were friends. I understand because most people find our combination odd.
Sue drops by the table with our drink refills, and Ty asks her very politely for the check. It makes me happy that he appreciates Sue and respects her. Of course, I knew what would happen next. She waves him off and tells us to have a great day before blowing kisses and walking away to take care of the other patrons.
He looks my way, and I shrug my shoulders. With a smirk, he shakes his head tossing down a couple of twenties on the table before we both slide out of the booth. “Thank you for lunch, Ty.” He smiles, and instead of telling me that I’m welcome, he reaches for my hand, which is so much better.
I’m excited to get back on the motorcycle with him even though it’s a short ride back to the house. It’s still fun, and I really hope this won’t be my last ride with the hotshot baseball boy.
When we pull up in front of the house, I’m a little sad to leave the man with a motorcycle, whose rough edges I now know aren’t so rough after all.
The windows are open, and I see the startled expressions on the faces of a few of the girls in the house as they watch my interaction with Ty while we say good-bye, but I’m not hiding.
I stroll away in a cloud of emotional confusion, exhilarated from the ride and experience but sadly wishing it wasn’t over. I look back over my shoulder and see him standing by the motorcycle watching me intently. “I’ll see you around. Thanks again for the ride and lunch,” I say with another quick wave, pleased when his smile creates a glimmer in his eye.
“Yep, be ready at seven. I’ll be back to get you,” he responds, climbing onto the bike, fastening his helmet, and revving off on his powerful machine before I have time to question it. I could freak out. I probably should freak out, but my excellent mood and the cloud he’s left me on from our little adventure only leaves room for excitement.
I walk toward the open front door where Morgan is standing stunned to silence. The look on her face is that of pure shock as I walk past her giggling. “Good afternoon, Morgan.”
“Are we kidding right now? What in the hell happened to my best friend, Charlotte?” Morgan asks sarcastically, following closely behind me walking up the stairs.
I giggle but avoid answering. It’s really fun to have the tables turned and to finally be the one able to withhold answers, but Morgan is clearly not as impressed with the turn of events. Especially not when she’s the one being left without the information she wants.
Walking into our bedroom, I dramatically fall back onto my bed. Staring up at the ceiling and realizing all that’s happened today, I can’t help but smile. Even with the messages from my mother that still need to be dealt with hanging over my head, I know that, as of today, I’m living. That’s worth a few smiles, and I allow the happiness to stay.
“Hmm …” I hear from the direction of my best friend’s bed trying to get my attention. I turn to face her. Her eyes are empty and not shimmering with exuberance. I’m not sure if it’s concern or uncertainty, but whatever it is, I realize withholding answers isn’t really fair. So I allow my happy memories and thoughts of my morning to pause so I can let her in on the new developments.
“Tyler and I have become friends. I really like him, and he’s a nice guy. I think we may be on the way to great friendship.” I can’t help but second-guess it since it’s all so new to me and he’s not really forthcoming with his thoughts or anything. “I mean … we might be friends. But Morgan, this morning sucked, and I was miserable, and he helped without me asking. He knew what to do, and it turned my day around,” I spill out hastily, hoping for her approval.
She shakes her head as she sits cross-legged on the bed, and I watch as her head falls into her hands. “Char, how did this all even happen? I got your texts about your mom this morning, and I rushed home expecting to have to pick you up off the floor in a puddle of tears and need to console you.”
I realize that her shock is not only warranted at this point but also completely understandable. I was being a terrible friend by attempting to play with her head before, and that takes a little wind out of my sails. Morgan has been there for me when no one else has. She is my person. The person I can always rely on to help me when I feel alone in the world, and the one person who has been by my side since we were eight years old.
Years ago, when the possibility was real that we could soon be separated, ending up in different parts of the country for college, I was terrified. I wasn’t sure how I would survive without her. She, like myself, had the ability to go to any college in the country. My father was the one to decide my fate by setting the boundary to the good ole state of South Carolina. He felt it was important to show the voters that South Carolina’s universities were as good as any other state or Ivy League, and to prove his point, he chose my destination to show through his actions that he believed it was good enough for his only child. It was unquestionably a political move for the governor of the state, but at the time, I didn’t argue.
Morgan, being Morgan and always trying to rescue me, immediately decided that wherever we ended up it would be together, and true to her word, here we are. I don’t need to remind myself of the sacrifices she’s made on my behalf. She’s a true friend. But I’m also quite happy to give her the gift of not having to pick me up and console me after the recent events with my mother. I want to be stronger and take control, and I want to show her I can do it.
“I’m sorry, Morgan. I know it’s all … well … different,” I try to tell her. I’m just not really sure how to explain all that I’m feeling and how my clarity really came forth, but I have to try. So I start at the beginning. “This morning, when I woke up to the rants of my mother, I read the first text and panicked. I turned off my phone and went for a run to clear my head so I could deal with it all.”
“But how did you find Tyler again? I know you were experimenting last night and letting your hair down, but I’m not really sure Tyler Stone is the best way to test your boundaries.” I know in my heart this is not just testing boundaries, but I don’t actually know what I am trying to accomplish yet. I just want to feel alive.
“I came home early last night. I only stayed at the party for a couple of hours. I tried to find you. It was crowded and crazy. I was overwhelmed. Then …” I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit aloud that the panic attacks that plagued me for many years have returned. They started when I was younger, when it felt like my parents were throwing me to wolves and I could never meet their expectations in our social settings. I hadn’t had one in years until last night. “I had a panic attack, and Tyler was there. Thankfully, he got me out of there before anyone noticed and brought me back here. He was nice to me.”
She shakes her head and moves toward me, closing the space between us and sitting in front of me on my bed. “Oh, my God, Charlotte. Why didn’t you call me? You could have called me. You SHOULD have called ME!” Taking my hands into hers, she squeezes. “Tyler Stone is not the kind of person you want HELP from. I promise. He’s not the helpful type guy. He has a motive if you know what I mean.”
This statement seems inaccurate, and it sends my brain into a complete tailspin. Tyler is helpful. What he did for me not only last night, but also this morning, was priceless. Without him, I’m positive I would have nothing to smile about today. I don’t know what she knows about him that I don’t—which could be a lot since I know very little—but what I do know is that, at this point, he was a friend when I needed one, last night and today. For me, that counts for something.
“How well do you know him?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t know him intimately, but wanting more information. The way she is covertly telling me that I should not have relied on him for help is odd. “I mean, what do you know about him that has you warning me away from him?”
“So you really have no clue who he is
, do you?” Her question is not helping to resolve my concern. The smirk on her face as she looks at me like I’m completely clueless is a true sign I’m about to be lectured, but before she does, I have things to say.
“I know that he’s been very nice to me. I know he’s a baseball player. I know he’s well liked by the Taylor family. I know he has a truck and a motorcycle, and I’ve been in both. I know that he values my safety, tries to learn things about me, and cared enough about my bad day to stop what he was doing to help fix it. Most importantly, I know he cares about people. He doesn’t like to see them hurt or struggle. He has a kind heart. That’s enough for me to think he’s a nice person right now. If you have information to disclose that will negate what I’ve learned, then please clue me in, but I doubt you can. Even if you know a different side of him, Morgan, this is the side of him that he showed me and I liked it all,” I quip, annoyed that instead of being supportive and giving me a chance to tell her everything, she judged the situation and left me on the defensive. She’s trying to take this opportunity to prove once again how naïve I am, but I’m pretty sure she’s wrong this time.
I see the walls come down, and her sarcasm leave. She knows I’m serious and that this open conversation will soon end. I’ve had enough of people talking down to me because of my lack of experience, but I really don’t need it from Morgan as well right now. She begins to speak, and I see that she’s carefully choosing her words.
“Tyler Stone is the star pitcher on the baseball team, not just a player. Almost every Major League team out there is scouting him. He’s also a guy who doesn’t do relationships”—she pauses, waiting for my eyes to meet her own—“EVER. He’s not a bad person, but he’s not the kind of guy to be into a girl without getting a payout in the end. I’m just worried that you’re not ready for the kind of ‘guy’ he is.”