When Our Worlds Collide

by Iler, Lindsey

  “What the hell just happened?” I ask out loud to anyone who’s willing to clear up my confusion.

  “It seems that you have a baseball team of admirers,” Violet says in a matter of fact way.

  I’m not naïve. I know that I’m not the ugliest girl in the bunch. I just don’t see anything special when I look in the mirror. Nothing about me stands out as fantastic. Ever since Graham had shown an interest in me, it seems that all the other boys have fallen in suit with him. It’s sort of annoying. How is it possible that I went this long without gaining any attention from guys? Now all of a sudden they are swarming?

  I join Violet and Dan at a game of beer pong waiting for Graham to show up. People come and go while we play. No one else approaches me, but I can still feel eyes on me. If what Jacob is saying is true then a whole slew of baseball players are checking me out. He thankfully must have relayed the message back to them that I’m hands off. I doubt anyone will risk hitting on me knowing that Graham is my boyfriend.

  I check my cell phone a few dozen times. No texts or missed calls. It’s already almost eleven and nothing from Graham. I’m worried, but know that he’s probably still with Coach. He deserves to take all the time in the world if it means that his future can be a little brighter.

  I feel eyes on me again after I slide my cell phone in my back pocket. This time it’s different. Eeriness falls over me. I turn slowly to see who’s standing nearby, finding a pair of alarming blue eyes. They are saying something, but I don’t know what it is. I can’t read him quick enough.

  Craig leans in towards where I’m standing not moving too far off of the wall. He knows if Violet even sees him in the same room as me that she will freak the hell out, but she’s too busy arguing “house rules” with Dan.

  Craig’s calculating and manipulative. This isn’t a good combination.

  “You’re so damn naive,” he whispers in my ear as he holds tight to my forearm.

  I shift to get out of his grasp turning my attention back on Violet nudging her on the arm to gain her attention. She turns to see Craig turning away from where we were just standing.

  “Stay away from her,” Violet whisper yells making sure no one hears her threat. Craig laughs hysterically before leaving us to finish our game.

  “That guy gives me the creeps and to think that I once thought he was so damn gorgeous. You know I actually hooked up with him sophomore year. Worst mistake,” Violet utters under her breath taking the last shot in the game to finish it all up. As I watch the ping pong ball bounce into the last cup I’m thankful. I’m not in the mood to play anymore.

  Where the hell is Graham when I need him?

  Chapter Fifty

  -Graham-

  Kennedy is right. Luck isn’t something that I’d need. The discussion with the coach from Georgia couldn’t have gone any better if I had scripted it myself. He commended me on my pitching and my rhythm on the field along with my knowledge of the game. It feels nice to hear from someone other than my coach that I can make it far in the sport that I’ve loved all of my life. He explains that he can’t give me a formal commitment but it will be safe to assume that if I want Georgia then they want me once I graduated.

  I let out a sigh of relief when Coach shuts the door behind him after exchanging pleasantries with a few handshakes and slaps across the back. He slumps down in his chair looking over his desk at me. I can tell he wants to say something. You can always tell by the stiffness in the room. You can cut whatever it is with a knife.

  “What is it, Coach?” I break the silence that’s practically deafening.

  “I don’t know how to breech this topic with you. Once I say it, I need you to be honest with me. I don’t want to hear any bullshit from you,” he explains. “The thing is that I shouldn’t be bringing this up to you and in my head I know that, but I’ve been your coach since freshman year. I can’t stand back and not say anything. You’re like a son to me.” He leans forward resting his elbows on the desk. He looks pained as he runs his hand down his face.

  This wasn’t going to be good.

  That’s coaches sign for “Get the hell out of dodge—you’re not going to like what I’m about to say”.

  “What’s going on, Coach?” I lean back in the chair resting an ankle over my knee preparing myself for whatever he’s going to say.

  “It’s about your Dad, Graham.” Coach waits to see what I will say. When I don’t respond leaving the silence between us he continues. “I heard him in the stands tonight. The way he speaks to you isn’t how a father speaks to his son, so I’m going to let you explain your relationship to me. I’d hate to assume something that’s not true.”

  I sit there in this tiny chair debating on what to say. I focus on the framed photos and awards along his walls. There’s a wooden frame on his desk that holds a photo of him and his family. He has a wife and three kids, two boys and one girl. They all look happy standing around a picnic table in a park.

  “The All-American family,” I say under my breath making sure he doesn’t hear.

  I wondered if we have any photos in our house like that one. I wonder if we have ever been that happy. I’d like to think in the beginning that we were. No one wants to believe that their father has always loathed his own family.

  “Coach, it’s not what you think,” I lie. “He can just be tough on me.” I lie again.

  “Graham, that’s not being tough. The things he was saying were inappropriate and unnecessary. You can talk to me.” Coach stands from his chair behind his desk. He comes and sits in front of me leaning against the desk. His eyes scorch into me. He’s waiting for the truth that he’ll never get.

  That’s when it hit me. He knows. There is no doubt in my mind that he already knows my secret. See the way he’s looking at me right now? There’s pity in his eyes, something that I have avoided all these years by not telling anyone about my father except for one person. Except for one person, only one person knows everything.

  Kennedy.

  I stifle my anger trying not to let my emotions get the better of me. Reality is that I’m ready to punch something, anything as long as it breaks with the impact.

  “Coach, you want me to be honest with you but you can’t be honest with me. I know you know so let’s cut the shit, okay?” I let my voice rise with my budding anger.

  “Let’s cut the shit then. I know that black eye wasn’t from you getting into a fight, so explain to me what happened and don’t lie to me this time.” Coach demands. He’s getting angrier right alongside me.

  I explain it to him. The whole damn truth. I’m far from happy about having to spill all my families’ dirty little secrets. There’s no lying to him when he already knows the truth. This pisses me off even more. He never does admit that it’s Kennedy who approached him, but he doesn’t need to. He avoids my questions when I ask him how he knows.

  Kennedy’s the one person besides my mother and hers that knows what happens when I’m, at home with my drunk of a father. She’s the one who keeps demanding that I need to confide in someone. She’s also the same person who worries every day because of what she knows. I understand why she did what she did, but that doesn’t mean that I’m happy about her choice. In fact, the more I sit here telling Coach about my shitty life my irritation boils over the side of the pot.

  Coach keeps reassuring me that if I need anything at all that he will be just a phone call away, to not hesitate to pick up the phone. I tell him thank you and that if it gets worse that I will come to him first before I walk out of his office. I think we both know that’s a lie.

  I have zero intentions of ever confiding in him or anyone else. I can handle this on my own. I’ve done it on my own for years. That’s not going to change any time soon.

  The parking lot is deserted by the time I make it out to my car. The cool air hits me. I stand beside my car before slamming my fist into the window. It seems like a good release in the moment. One thing I know for certain is that I need to get drunk. That’
s what I need to do.

  I jump in my car blasting the radio to full throttle. The angry rock music helps calm my nerves as I head straight to Dan’s house. I know that I’ll have to deal with Kennedy when I see her. Good thing I have no intentions of seeing her…right away---at least. Maybe not at all.

  Dan has his secret stash of tequila in the garage. I just need to cut the edge off before I listened to Kennedy’s excuses. That’s what I’ll do. A couple of shots and I’ll be golden.

  Kennedy will feed me a line on how telling Coach was for my own good. Blah, Blah, Blah. She’s the one who promised me that she wouldn’t breathe a word. She promised me that she would keep it between us. She even made her mom make the same sacrifice for me, but she couldn’t do it in the end. When the tough got going she bailed on the plan and did what she thought was best without thinking about how it would affect my life.

  Now I’m going to have to deal with Coach watching me, fearing for my well-being. That isn’t something that I want. It’s bad enough that Kennedy voices her concerns all the damn time.

  Pulling onto Dan’s road I park my car down a ways in the closest spot I can find. I walk up the driveway avoiding everyone to sneak in the side window. The door is kept locked to make sure no one like me can sneak in.

  Oh well. Luckily no one saw me making my way up to the party.

  I find the bottle just where I know it will be, popping the top. The clear liquid slides down rough the first time, but after the first five pulls it goes down much smoother. I know I’m on my way of being completely obliterated. I can’t find it in myself to even care. I don’t care about anything right now. I sit with my back against the steel garage door taking a few more sips before putting it back where I found it. Dan will know someone was in here when he comes looking for something more expensive to drink. I let the liquid do its job, not entering the house until everything in front of me appears to be a blur.

  Being drunk is surprisingly relaxing. I take the few steps into the house from the garage and am greeted by a few of the guys from the team and cheerleaders. They’re hanging around in the kitchen. I scan the room to find Amanda leaning against the counter top talking to Becky.

  Damn, Amanda looked hot. She’s wearing that short denim skirt that I love. Pair it with a revealing top that makes her tits look phenomenal and I’m practically drooling. I want to bury myself in her and disappear for at least a few hours. After taking a few confident steps towards her I remember I have something to do. The alcohol is my driver of destruction tonight. If I remember correctly, not even thirty minutes ago I was planning on avoiding Kennedy. The tequila is making me think otherwise.

  “Where’s Kennedy at?” I ask anyone who’s willing to listen. Amanda pushes off the counter with her eyes zeroed in on me as she sways her hips towards me.

  Oh boy, this should be interesting as it always is with Amanda.

  “Are you okay?” Amanda asks with obvious concern.

  “I’m fine. I just need to find Kennedy. Have you seen her?” I can tell I’m swaying. My suspicion is confirmed when Amanda sticks her arm out to stabilize me.

  “She was in the living room last time I saw her. With Dan and Violet. Are you sure you’re okay? Jesus, you can barely stand up on your own.” She catches my elbow with cat like reflex. I’m using the small table in the hallway to keep my balance. I’m a shit show.

  “Quit worrying about me. Last time I checked you usually are only worried about where my dick is headed, now if you’ll excuse me.” I turn on her leaving the kitchen and her behind. Not before I see her mouth wide open.

  Just how I always use to like it.

  I stumble through the hallway until I find Kennedy sitting on a chair talking quietly to Violet. Her eyes light up when they fall on me. They quickly fall when she witnesses me running into the wall with my shoulder. It’s painfully obvious that I’m drunk. She has no idea why I am in the state I am. That it is all her fault. My life was just fine the way it was before she had to jump in front of my car. Now look at it. My life’s a fucking mess.

  Kennedy jumps from her seat causing Violet to turn in our direction. She grabs ahold of my chin the moment she’s in front of me forcing me to look up at her.

  “What’s wrong, Graham? You look a mess,” she questions with concern in her voice.

  It’s pretty funny how she’s now all of a sudden concerned for me. She couldn’t bothered being concerned when she went and ran her mouth to Coach.

  “What’s wrong with me?” I spit out with a mouth full of venom. “What’s wrong with me, Kennedy?” I push out between breaths. Honestly, I’m trying to stay calm. I truly am. I know my anger is making its way to the surface. Having her stand in front of me looking all helpless and cute isn’t helping her cause. She is anything, but innocent here.

  I brush her hands off of me walking by her into the room where everyone is now gathering to watch my melt down.

  “I’ll give you one guess what’s wrong with me, Ken. It has something to do with a certain aspect of my life that I would have preferred to keep hidden. Does that ring a fucking bell to you or are you too stupid to know that you completely fucked my life up by coming into it?” I yell as I turn around to face her again.

  Kennedy’s face drops as she takes a step towards me.

  “Graham, let’s talk somewhere alone. You’re clearly drunk and I know you’re upset, but you have to understand why I did what I did,” Kennedy whispers trying not to draw a crowd. It’s too late by the volume of my voice.

  Violet comes around the couch leaving Dan sitting stunned. He’s watching the way I’m behaving in disbelief. She stands by Kennedy’s side holding onto one of her arms with a worried expression on her face when she looks at her best friend. I’m only warranted a death glare that is almost enough to make me cower. I still don’t find it in myself to care.

  When I turn to look into Kennedy’s eyes I see tears fighting to come forth. I haven’t seen her cry in a long time. I prefer it that way. At least I used to, now I’m not so sure if I even have a reason to care. She stands there with her best friend by her side and everyone we know watching us. Kennedy’s eyes never drop from mine until I make her by saying things that I probably don’t truly mean. The words seem to fit how I feel no matter how bad they sting coming out of my mouth.

  “Did you not hear me? You completely fucked my life up. You stuck your nose in something that isn’t your business. You live in this bubble where everything is sunshine and rainbows when some of us have real problems,” I yell turning my back on her again.

  I went too far this time. Fuck.

  “You don’t think I know that. I think we both know that I understand what real problems are. If you’d get your head out of your ass you would see that everything I have done has been for you,” Kennedy shouts back shrugging Violet’s arm away from her. She starts to walk towards me. “God dammit, Graham. This isn’t like you.”

  “This is who I am. Maybe for a little while I let you believe that I was different, but this is Graham Black. I drink, I play baseball, and I fuck a different girl every weekend. I suggest you get used to it because this is the only one you’ll be seeing from now on,” I shout throwing my arms in the air. Violet wraps her arms around Kennedy just as she’s beginning to fall apart in front of everyone. Her shoulders slump down as her whole body convulses with the release of every tear.

  I don’t look back as I walk out of the living room. I can hear enough. Kennedy’s crying, more like sobbing and it’s my fault. Maybe what I said to her was harsh. It was partly true. A part of me believed what I said. Just a small part of me, probably the drunkest part of me believed that Kennedy is wrong about me after all. The guy I described just then was the old Graham. The Graham that I thought I was before Kennedy came along ruining everything I believed to be true.

  Once I walked out of the living room leaving Kennedy crying and Violet probably wishing death upon me, I find Amanda leaning against the hallway wall. She has a shit eating grin
on her face. I know exactly what she wants. Amanda always had a go to sign for when she was ready to speed things up between us. See the biting of her lip and the gleam in her eyes? That’s the sign that her panties are soaked.

  “Overhead your little argument with that adorably naïve girlfriend of yours. Do you feel better now that you realized that the guy you’ve been pretending to be with her isn’t who you actually are?” she asks pushing off of the wall as I make my way against her lean body.

  Damn, I’ve missed this body. She’s the type of girl I’m supposed to be with. She’s easy and doesn’t ask any questions unlike…Kennedy.

  “What do you want Amanda? Because I’m in search of a large bottle of liquor and I don’t need your shit tonight,” I run one of my fingers over the exposed skin on her midriff as I speak knowing very well it will rile her up.

  What the fuck are you doing?

  “Well speak of the devil, look what I have here.” Amanda pulls a bottle of rum out from behind her back. Lord knows where she had been hiding it. “Would you like some?” She raises a flirtatious eyebrow at me.

  Oh, I definitely want some.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  -Kennedy-

  Breathe.

  Take a breath in Kennedy and let one out.

  He didn’t mean what he just said. He’s just drunk and upset. He has a right to be upset with you.

  Remember that and don’t forget it.

  I’m learning the hard way that it might not have been worth losing him to save him. In the end I didn’t save him at all. It just sent him into a tail spin that led him straight to the bottom of a bottle of 100 proof. How could he say the things he said to me after everything we’ve been through? I saw the look in his eyes. He meant them. He meant every last one of them. It hurt like hell to see the hatred behind the eyes that usually only shine softness for me.