by Kelly Myers
“We are not starting over, ok?” I say.
“Sweetie, I’ve been working so hard,” she says. I clench my hand around my phone in anger. I don’t care how hard she’s been working on herself, she should have put in the work years ago.
“Claire.” I know the use of her first name will sting, and like a charm, she falls silent. “Don’t call me again.”
Then I hang up.
Chapter Nineteen
At the gym, I run two miles on the treadmill with so much aggression that I beat my best time. Athletic activities have always been my solace in times of stress. In a certain way, I think cardio is almost like my therapy.
I used to relish the fitness days at high school soccer practice. When I was sprinting from one end of the field to the other, I didn’t stress about my mother. I didn’t even think of her. All I thought about was running as fast as I possibly could.
After the treadmill, I do a quick set of push-ups, squats and crunches. When my workout is over, I walk over to where Zoe is cooling down on the elliptical.
She hops off and grins at me. “Ready?”
“Yup,” I say.
We walk back to the locker room, side by side. I feel much better after sweating off some of the stress about my mother. I’m even almost back to being mildly optimistic about a potential date with Zach.
Unless of course he brings up my mother again. He knows not to do that anymore, right? I feel like I’ve been perfectly clear.
I wonder for a moment if he told her to call me, but I dismiss that theory. He’s made it clear that he only keeps in touch with her sporadically. After the way he spoke about his father, it’s clear that he only stays in contact with ex-dealers out of guilt. He doesn’t have anyone else back in Torrins, after all. And he said he wouldn’t mention her again. I was very clear that I didn’t want him meddling or discussing me with my mother.
It’s far more likely that she just got a new phone.
After grabbing our bags from the locker room, Zoe and I bundle up and head to lunch. We’re going to his casual Mexican place around the corner, so we don’t need to shower or change our clothes or anything.
We sit down, and Zoe picks up the menu. She always examines it with extra care, even though she gets the same fajitas every time. I sometimes mix it up, but mostly I get the pork tostadas.
“How was your work week?” I ask.
“Ugh, I lost out on an assignment to this jerk at the office.” Zoe has a competitive relationship with pretty much every single one of her co-workers. “My boss said I couldn’t work on two things at once, but I’m almost done with my current client.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Do you ever leave your office before 7?”
“Ha, ha, I love my job, so sue me,” Zoe says. “I have a perfect work-life balance.”
“If by that you mean that your work is your life, sure,” I say. “It’s perfect.”
Zoe smirks and takes a sip of her water. She knows I only tease her because I care for her.
“So what’s new with you?” Zoe wiggles her dark eyebrows. “Any updates on your totally casual lover from your past?”
“Yes, actually.” I smile at her intrigued expression. I much prefer this topic to describing my phone call with my mother. I might share if Elena were here, but I talk about my mom so rarely, it would just make Zoe uncomfortable. “We’ll probably hang out this week.”
“Hang out?” Zoe narrows her eyes to show how unimpressed she is with the phrase.
“Yes, it’s what you do with someone you like spending time with,” I say. “Grab dinner, see a movie, then maybe hook-up.”
“Dinner and a movie?” Zoe asks. “Is it a date or a hook-up?”
I shrug. “Both?”
Zoe pauses as our food arrives. We both dig in.
“Ah, I’m so hungry,” I say as I take my first bite.
Zoe nods in agreement.
After a few minutes, I can see her gearing up to discuss Zach again. I try to keep my face calm. I don’t want to get all defensive. It’s just hard to explain to my friends what we are or where we’re going when I can barely explain it to myself. I don’t even know what I want anymore.
“So what is it more of?” Zoe asks.
“What?”
“If you had to pick, is it more of a hook-up or more of a date?”
Zoe couldn’t turn off the analytical side of her mind as if her life depended on it.
“It hasn’t even happened yet, so who knows?” I say. “Hook-up. I think.”
Zoe lets out a sigh and shakes her head. “You are making this very complicated.”
“Actually, I feel like I’m making it very simple,” I say. “I’ll see him, have fun, that’s it.”
“Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler,” Zoe says. “Einstein said that.”
“Yeah, about math,” I say. “Last I checked, Zach was not a calculus equation.”
“You’re making it too simple.” Zoe is unbothered by my comment, and continues with her opinion. “You’re purposely ignoring things.”
“We had a talk last night,” I say. “He’s not the guy he used to be.”
I really don’t want to go into the whole drug dealing situation with Zoe. I know he’s not dealing anymore, and that’s all it matters. Besides, she will just question why I was seeing him when I thought there was a chance he was a criminal.
“I was worried he might be caught up in Torrins stuff, but he’s not,” I say. “He’s got his life together.”
“So he sounds great,” Zoe says. “Why not date him for real?”
I tighten my fingers around my fork as I consider her question. “He’s too connected to my past, I guess. I don’t like that.”
“But you like him?”
“Ok, enough with the third degree.” I shake my head and point at her plate. “Eat your fajitas.”
Zoe obeys me and scoops some chicken and vegetables into her mouth. I can tell that she’s not going to let it go, so I work to gather my thoughts. I want to be honest with Zoe.
“I do like him,” I say at last. “I just have my limits with how much I want to think about my past.”
Zoe’s dark eyes soften. In that moment, I can tell how much she cares about me. She reaches out and lays her hand over mine. I suddenly feel like crying, not because I’m sad, but because I’m so lucky to have a friend who loves me like this.
“It was bad, huh?” Zoe asks.
“Yeah,” I say. I grip her hand in mine and give it a squeeze. “But I’m ok now, I promise.”
“Are you going to stay ok if you keep seeing him?” Zoe asks.
“I’m not sure.” It’s the truth. Being with Zach has been like a rollercoaster. It goes from dizzying heights down to crashing lows. “I just don’t want to take steps backwards or regress, you know?”
“Yeah,” Zoe says. “You’ve worked hard to get where you are. No falling back.”
Sometimes I wonder how my other friends would have coped with living through my childhood. I can never know for certain. There’s no telling how certain people react in extreme situations. My gut tells me that they all would have survived, in different ways. Marianne would have struggled without the loving attention of two parents, but she would have buried herself in her music. She probably would have written some amazing songs, to be honest. A lot of the tragedy might have just rolled right off her back. She’s got thick skin and an indomitable spirit.
Elena would have behaved more like Zach. I don’t think she would have dealt drugs, but she would have had far more sympathy for reprobate family members and friends than she should have. That sympathy would have gotten her into trouble, but she’s too good to make too many bad choices. She would never cut anyone off though. Elena would go back and visit everyone, just like Zach.
That’s how I imagine Elena and Marianne, though I’m not certain.
With Zoe, I’m certain. There’s a ferocity about Zoe. We’re not exactly alike, but I recognize
the same grit in her that is buried within me.
Zoe would have done the same thing I did. She would have worked and worked until she got out. And she never once would look back.
That’s why she’s so concerned about me and Zach. She senses how dangerous and unpleasant it is for me to look back at my past.
I smile at Zoe across the table.
“I can take care of myself,” I say. “I think I’m old enough to handle men at least.”
Zoe shrugs. “We all have our Achilles Heel when it comes to romance.”
I smirk at her dramatic declaration. “And what’s mine?”
“Let me think.” Zoe scoops some food into her mouth and stares into space for a minute. Then she nods. “You think you can laugh off anything.”
I blink. My initial instinct is to ask what’s wrong with that. The ability to laugh in the face of setbacks is important.
“You may be right,” I say. “But trust me, if I need to laugh off Zach O’Malley, I’m certain it will be an easy thing to do. He’s not going to be my downfall.”
“Was he your downfall back then?”
“Not really,” I say. I brighten up and grin at her. “But it’s like chicken pox – I got a mild case once, so now I can’t get it again.”
Zoe shakes her head and looks doubtful. “If you say so.”
We pay the bill and gather our stuff.
“Wanna come over and watch a movie or something?” Zoe asks.
“Sure,” I say.
“So, no plans with Zach?” Zoe asks.
I roll my eyes. “He’s busy at a construction site.”
As we stride out into the street, Zoe takes a deep breath. Her exhale appears as a puff of white in the cold air.
“I know you don’t want my advice, but I’m going to give it anyway,” she says.
“I would expect nothing less.”
“Define the relationship.” Zoe cringes as if she’s embarrassed to use such a cliché phrase. “No more of this wishy-washy stuff.”
“Wow, Zoe, have you ever considered switching careers to be a columnist for Cosmo?” I ask. “Or maybe even Teen Vogue?”
Zoe rolls her eyes, but she cracks a smile at my sarcasm. “It can just be risky when you don’t know where you stand or what you’re doing, ok?”
“I know.” I turn to face her so she can see I’m serious. “Thanks.”
“For what? Spewing out recycled tips from bad teen movies?”
“Yes,” I say. I don’t need to say anything more or explain how much it means to me that she worries about me getting hurt. She gets it.
She leans against me so that our shoulders are touching for a second, and we walk side by side down the street.
The memory of the unpleasant phone call begins to fade. When I was growing up, my mom never cared about me. She tried, I know that. But she kept getting distracted by her own worries. She feared that she would end up alone or have to live with her mother forever, or she was fretting about how to pay the rent, so she never had time to worry about me.
I could be bitter about this forever, but instead I’m just grateful that eventually I found people who did worry about me. I’m glad that now I know without a shadow of a doubt that Zoe and Marianne and Elena and my grandmother are looking out for me. They’ll help me if I get hurt. They’ll worry about me, even when I ask them not to.
Maybe it came a little late, but late is better than never.
Chapter Twenty
Zach suggests a movie on Tuesday, but I have a soccer game. It’s the second one of the season. My team, made up of various people from my office, are part of a league that plays 5 v 5 games on a small indoor space. This is the winter season, but in the summer, we’ll move to full field games outdoors.
It’s nothing serious, but I enjoy the chance to play.
I text him about the game, and he seems to find it funny that I still play. He says we can plan for something Wednesday or Thursday.
On Tuesday afternoon, he texts me good luck. I laugh and thank him. There’s no more vague answers or delayed responses. We’re on different footing after our heart-to-heart the other night.
Right as the workday ends, Tony appears at my desk. He’s not the best player we have, but his pure enthusiasm got him appointed the team captain.
“Dobbs, are you ready to dominate?” he asks.
“Yup,” I say.
I stand up and grab my bag so I can change in the bathroom. Unlike Tony, I do not wear our blue team T-shirt all day to get hyped up. I’m not that much of a fanatic.
We all carpool to the big gym together and start our warm-up. The team is made up of people like me: we’re not amazing, we just played a bit in high school.
I’m glad to be playing in a game. Spending the day with Zoe was nice, but afterwards, I kept remembering my mom’s phone call and getting angry all over again. Every time my phone buzzed with an alert, I got nervous to check it.
As soon as the game begins, I’m running all over. It feels good to let out some of my aggression in a healthy manner. I was never a violent player, and I rarely push. Since I’m smaller than everyone else on the field, pushing wouldn’t exactly get me far. But I am tenacious, and I’m quick.
By halftime, my team is up by 2, and I’ve had an assist.
I bounce on the balls of my feet and take a sip of water as Tony gives everyone a pep talk. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar figure. I turn and nearly fall over in shock when I see Zach ambling over towards the bleachers where a few other fans are sitting.
He gives me a wave and sits down, as if it’s the most normal thing for him to be there. As if I should have expected it. I walk over.
I shake my head and smile when I reach him. “I thought you were done with your stalking days.”
“You told me where it was,” Zach says. “Besides, I thought you would appreciate a ride home.”
The arena is pretty far from my place so I can’t help but feel a burst of gratitude. “Thanks.”
The whistle blows to announce the start of the second half, and I give him a quick wave as I jog back to join my team.
I’m no longer feeling quite so aggressive. The adrenaline is still there, but it’s making me feel light and ecstatic. Every time I get the ball, I try to do something amazing to impress him. And I can’t help but steal glances at where he’s sitting to watch. He has a big smile on his face, and he strikes up a conversation with Tony’s girlfriend. Even when he’s talking to her, he keeps his eyes on me.
The truth is, it’s really sweet that he came to watch. It’s so sweet, I can’t even make fun of it for being cheesy.
When I was in high school, I would have loved for him to sit in the bleachers during one of my games. It would have felt so normal, like something those teens on TV shows would do. Of course, by the time my senior year soccer season started, we were over. But I did fantasize about him showing up as a spectator, once or twice.
The other team scores, making the next ten minutes a close match. Then, with only five minutes left in the game, I get an open shot on goal and slam the ball into the net.
Everyone high-fives me, and when I turn and see Zach clapping and cheering, my stomach flips about five times.
We sometimes go out to eat as a team, but I turn down the invite. I say it’s late, and I’m tired, but really it’s just that I want to be with Zach. Nothing sounds better than climbing up into his warm truck right now.
I say goodbye to my teammates and run over to where he’s waiting.
“Well,” I say. “Aren’t you gonna congratulate me on my goal?”
“Oh, was that you?” he jokes.
I punch him lightly in the shoulder before stopping to pull my sweatpants out of my bag. I pull them over my shorts, then yank on my coat.
“Ok, I’m ready.” I look up to see him watching my every move. He reaches up and tugs on my ponytail in a gentle manner.
“You looked cute out there,” he says. “Made me wish I’d come to see y
ou play in high school.”
I freeze for a moment. How is it possible that he is saying exactly what I want to hear? I quickly force myself to calm down.
“You thought you were way too cool to go watch a high school soccer game,” I say.
We turn and start to walk out to the parking lot. I can see his truck only a few yards away.
“Not anymore,” he says.
I glance up at him. I feel giddy, and all of a sudden I’m desperate to check my hair in a mirror to make sure I look ok. I know what Zoe would say. She would say that this is date behavior. Definitely not hook-up behavior.
Zach opens the door for me (more date behavior), and I climb into the truck. I buckle my seatbelt and cross my arms. It’s cold in the cab, but as soon as Zach is behind the wheel, he turns on the heat.
“Thanks again for the ride,” I say. “It takes forever to get home from here.”
“Of course.” Zach starts to maneuver the truck out of the lot. “You hungry? We could stop.”
“I’m actually starving.” My stomach is hollow; I’m always ravenous after a game. “I can eat at home though, I don’t wanna take up too much of your time.”
Zach shoots me a strange look. He’s probably wondering why I’m being so stilted all of a sudden. It pains me to admit it, but Zoe may have been right. The wishy-washy territory between dating and hooking up is confusing. I don’t know how to act. Are we going to hook up tonight? Or is he just going out of his way to be nice?
“Let’s find somewhere to eat,” Zach says. “I’m hungry too.”
I suggest a pizza place nearby, and Zach readily agrees.
I’m struck by how normal it feels to be sitting next to him in sweatpants and with messy hair, a bit sweaty from a game of soccer. In that sense, it’s not like a date, but just like getting a ride from a friend. A good friend.
Why are there so many layers with Zach?
We reach the pizza place, and my worries evaporate. I’m too hungry to mull over what Zoe said last weekend.