“No. You are going to be all right. That’s the truth. If she asks me if you’re missing her or if you’re still upset and hurting, I’ll be honest about that, too.”
“Tell her . . .” I tried to think of the right words to say, exactly what I needed Gia to hear just now. “Tell her that nothing’s changed for me. Tell her that everything I said before still stands. Tell her I’ll wait forever.”
Compassion and empathy shone in Leo’s eyes. “I’ll make sure she understands. Hang in there.”
He side-stepped to share a quick hug with Pops and then waved at me before he went through the door. I managed a tight smile as I watched him go.
“You were hard on him.” Pops stared me down from his spot on the sofa. “Leo’s a good boy. He’s a good friend, too.”
“Yeah, I know.” I rubbed my jaw. “I know it, but I can’t help it if I’m still pissed at him. He’s my only connection to Gia, and I feel like maybe he could’ve done more back when it happened. When she broke up with me.”
“If he’d pushed the issue back then, she might have cut off communication with him, too. She needed to feel like there was someone in her corner. If you love her, you want the best for her, don’t you? You don’t want her to be on her own. As difficult as this time has been for you, you have friends. And you have me. If Gia’s relationship with her parents is as distant as you’ve said, she probably needed the support of someone like Leo.”
“I know you’re right. Doesn’t make it any easier on me.” I collapsed into the chair Leo had just vacated. “I just miss her so much, Pops. How can it feel like part of me was ripped away? We were only together for a few months.”
“I get it, son.” Pops wagged his head. “I really do. There’s no kind of hurt like being separated from the one you love. It doesn’t matter really how long you’ve known her or how long you dated. Pain is pain.”
There was nothing like getting sympathy from a man who’d lost the love of his life over twenty-five years before and still missed her every day. And here I was whining about my first girlfriend kicking me to the curb.
“Thanks, Pops.” I managed a smile, although I wasn’t sure how genuine it seemed. “You’ve been really patient with me this whole time. I know I’ve been a pain in the ass.”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “We all have our moments, don’t we?” He coughed a little and reached for the television remote. “It’s almost five. Should we turn on the news and see if Gia made the broadcast?”
“Yeah. Please.” I settled back, and we watched in silence as the anchors went through the typical spiel of international and national news before they began the local coverage. Fifteen minutes into the show, they teased the upcoming segment.
“A local high school football star paid a visit home today to give back to his community. We’ll have that story and more coming up after the break.” And then for just a fraction of a second, Gia was there on the screen, her pretty face smiling as she stood next to Leo, gazing out over a sea of middle school students.
My leg jiggled up and down all during the commercials that seemed to go on forever. And then when the news came back on, the anchors felt the need to banter for a few moments, talking about the weather and how the Philadelphia teams were doing—baseball was floundering and football looked promising, with opening day coming soon. The camera panned around to face the pretty blonde female anchor as she smiled.
“Today, some local students in a small New Jersey town had a special guest at their assembly. Leo Taylor, who played football for Eatonboro and is now a starting tight-end with the Richmond Rebels, spoke at the middle school in his hometown. And he came with a very special message.”
The voice-over began, and there was Leo, standing at a podium, speaking earnestly. “Matt Lampert was one of my best friends and a talented football player. He once sat right there on the bleachers where you guys are today. He led our team to championships two years in a row. But Matt was hiding pain. So much pain.” Leo paused, letting his gaze roam over the audience. “That pain led him to look for solutions and relief in dangerous ways, including drugs and alcohol. It ended with him dying before he could graduate from college.”
Leo spoke clearly and eloquently, but I wasn’t paying attention, because just behind him, in a standard-issue wooden chair, Gia sat. I could tell she was nervous by the way she pressed her lips together tightly and twisted her necklace around one finger. Those were her classic tells.
The reporter broke in then, talking about Matt, showing his picture from high school. A surge of anger rose in me, unexpected but not, I thought, unwarranted. And then I heard her voice.
“If you’d asked me about Matt Lampert when I was your age, I’d have told you he was mean. A jerk. No one I wanted to know. But later on, I did get to know him. And while there’s no doubt that Matt fought his demons, I can’t help believing that if he had had mental health support and counseling earlier in his life, he would still be with us today.”
They pulled away from the close-up of Gia, and the reporter began to speak again, this time talking about the moving article Gia had written, telling Matt’s story, and about how the students had reacted to the assembly. The piece ended with one last shot of Gia and Leo, standing together in the front of the assembled students.
“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Pops spoke up. “That young man, all that talent, and he just let it go to waste.”
“I think you mean he threw it away with both hands.” I corrected.
“It wouldn’t hurt for you to find a little compassion.” Pops tone was mildly censorious. “There but for the grace of God, you know. You two had more in common than you might like to believe. You both grew up without parents, and you both had a talent for football. And you both loved the same woman.”
“Matt didn’t love her. Matt used her. Matt tried to destroy her.” I wasn’t wavering on this point.
“That’s something you’ll never know for sure. Matt’s not around to prove or disprove it. But the other points you can’t argue. There are some who would say you had the benefit of being raised by a man who gave you attention and raised you with care. That would be me, by the way.”
“I figured that out.” I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair.
“You also had a better than average set of teachers and coaches who made it their business to make sure you didn’t fall through the cracks. None of that negates the fact that you’ve always been a good kid, Tate. It could be that even if you’d grown up with grandparents who had more money than sense and skated your way through school, you might’ve turned out okay. I’m just saying that it wouldn’t hurt you to realize that Matt might’ve had a better chance if he’d been given a little more attention and little more love. That’s why Leo and Gia are doing this work. They want to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to other kids.”
“I guess.” I stood up. “I’m going for a run before dinner. You okay if we wait another hour before we eat?”
“Sure.” Pops let me walk down the hall before he called my name again. “Tate . . . you don’t think so now, but someday, you’ll look back on this time, and it won’t even seem like a blip on your radar. It’ll be like nothing in the grand scheme of your life. Trust me.”
I stopped at the door to my room, my hand on the knob. “Do you think Gia and I have a future? Do you think she’ll come back to me?” It was a question I hadn’t dared to ask him before. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.
Pops hesitated. “I hope so, son. I miss her, too, you know. She brightened life for both of us for a while. I think you have a chance. But no matter what happens, I know you’re going to be okay. You’re strong, Tate. Resilient. You’ve been loving this girl for a long time, and I happen to think that counts for something. But whether it’s Gia or someone else, love isn’t done with you.”
I opened the door, speaking as I went into my bedroom. “If Gia doesn’t want me, I don’t care about love. She’s my future. Without her, there’s nothi
ng ahead of me.”
Without waiting for his response, I shut the door quietly behind me.
Now
“Hey, gorgeous. How did it go today?” Zelda glanced up at me as I dragged myself through the door of her apartment. She was curled up in the corner of the loveseat, her computer tablet in hand as she smiled at me.
“I think it was good. It was fucking terrifying, don’t get me wrong, but what Leo and I said seemed to be . . . well-received.” I hung my handbag from the hook on the foyer bench before joining Zelda in the living room. I was always mindful of being extra-neat and tidy now, because I knew such things were important to my friend, and I was still conscious of how much I owed her.
“That’s wonderful, G. I’m so glad.” Zelda rested her head against the back of the couch, and I thought for the one millionth time that it really wasn’t fair how beautiful she was. I was comfortable with my own brand of cute and sexy, with a little dash of pretty tossed in if I made an effort. I thought our friend Quinn was lovely, with her shining green eyes and model-quality bod. But Zelda was the kind of beautiful that stopped conversation when she walked into a room. What was more, it was effortless on her part, and although she might like to try to hide the fact, it went more than skin-deep. Despite her tough talk and bravado, she was honestly one of the most generous, loyal people I’d ever met . . . aside from Tate.
Thinking of him brought the familiar, constant pang of regret and pain, and I clenched my fists, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. If Zelda noticed, she didn’t say anything.
“Was Leo happy with it?” She set her tablet on the coffee table and wrapped her arms around her legs, tucking her feet beneath her.
“Oh, yeah. One of the teachers who knew us from when we were students there came up afterward. He told us that he’d always been sorry he hadn’t pushed harder with Matt, that he hadn’t gotten in his face more and maybe made a bigger deal of his issues with his grandparents. He wants to be involved in the foundation, too.”
“That’s terrific.” She paused, studying me with her head tilted. “I assume you didn’t see Tate.”
My neck jerked, as though I’d been struck. “No. Of course not. Why would I?”
“Well . . .” Zelda held up her fingers, counting off reasons. “You were in his neighborhood. You haven’t seen him since the day you dumped him. You’re miserable without him, and you’re desperately in love with the guy. So yeah, I thought you might drop in to catch up with him.”
“Ha, ha, ha.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not ready yet. And even if I were, I wouldn’t just stop in. How the hell do I know if he’s even still living with Pops? Or if he’d be home, anyway? Or that if he hasn’t found another woman who shows more signs of everyday sanity than I do? No.” I shook my head. “I’m too chicken-shit to even think about seeing him yet.”
“How will you know unless you do?” Trust Zelda not to shy away from the tough questions.
In response, I pulled out my never-fail ammunition. “Darla says I’m not ready yet.” Invoking the name of my therapist made me feel needy and pathetic, but before I could wander too far down that road, I pulled myself up short. Seeing Darla did not make me pathetic. It made me smart, because it meant I was taking positive steps toward health. It meant that after a long time of not caring what happened to me, I was actually seeking a way to get better.
Zelda sighed. “Well, if Darla really said that, I respect it. Still, I feel bad for Tate. Wouldn’t it be okay for you to at least let him know that you’re . . .” She made a rolling motion with her hand. “You know. Working to get to a better place? A place where the two of you might have a chance again?”
“Not yet.” I was still too afraid to hope myself, let alone to give Tate a glimmer of belief in something that might never actually come to pass. “But I did ask Leo to talk to him. The TV station came out and took some film of the assembly at Gatbury this afternoon, and I didn’t want Tate to be surprised if he saw it.”
“That was nice of you,” Zelda remarked. “And brave of Leo, since I’m sure he still isn’t Tate’s favorite person.”
She wasn’t wrong. When Tate hadn’t been able to talk to me in person or on the phone, he’d reached out to Leo and begged his friend to intercede for him. Poor Leo, who at that point had just come back from seeing Quinn for the first time in months, had been put in the difficult position of having to tell Tate that I was all right, but still refused to see him. Tate had been unhappy, and Leo wasn’t exactly thrilled, either.
“I’m hoping this will go a little ways toward mending that rift.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’m exhausted, so I think I’m going to lie down for a while. Are you going out?”
She nodded. “I probably won’t be back tonight.” Her cheeks pinked a little, and I bit back a smile. Talking about sex, no matter how graphic and detailed we got, didn’t embarrass my friend one bit, but love and relationships—when it came to herself—still made her slightly bashful. I thought it was adorable and never missed a chance to tell her so. She always responded by flipping me the finger.
As I headed for my bedroom, I reflected for the millionth time on my gratitude for my friend and for her graciousness in letting me share her home. If it hadn’t been for Zelda, I didn’t know where I would’ve ended up. I still hadn’t found my way back to complete wholeness, true, but I was a hell of a lot closer than I’d been in a long time.
It hadn’t been an easy road, though. I still cringed when I thought back on those first days and nights I’d spent with Zelda, when I’d been too wrecked to leave the bed she’d so kindly given me. We’d been quite a pair: she was jet-lagged after spending a week in San Francisco with Quinn, and I was . . . well, a crushed, despondent mess. I veered wildly from being furious at what I’d done to Tate and to myself, for having deliberately sabotaged what we’d had, to feeling overwhelming self-pity for my own inability to do anything right.
The first night, I’d downed most of that bottle of Jack as I’d poured everything out to Zelda, confessing the relationship I’d kept under wraps. She’d suspected that I’d been seeing someone but hadn’t known it was Tate, whom she only knew vaguely through Leo and Quinn. She’d listened to me spill my guts about how amazing Tate was, how wonderful he’d been to me, and then she’d fastened me with that classic Zelda stare.
“If he’s as fan-fucking-tastic as you say, why the hell aren’t you still with him? Why did you end everything between the two of you tonight?”
I’d sniffled, wiping my nose on the sleeve of my shirt like the loser I was. “I don’t deserve him. I’m not good for anyone, Zelda, and definitely not for Tate. I fooled myself for a little while, thinking I could just enjoy it and enjoy him, but I got in too deep. And so did Tate.”
“I call total bullshit on that.” She’d tossed back a shot, only her second since I’d gotten there. I was up on her by at least five, which was probably why the room was starting to look all tilty and spinny.
“’s not bullshit.” I’d pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. “It’s the truth. I’m poison. I’m toxic. I ruin anything I touch.”
“You’re heartbroken and drunk. That’s what you are.” She’d spoken with exasperated tenderness. “Take a few days to get your head on straight, and then talk to him. You’re throwing away a good thing, G. Don’t be crazy, okay?”
What she didn’t realize at the time was that crazy was my own particular watchword just now. I’d hidden away in her guest bedroom all the next day, ignoring the non-stop buzzing of my phone. I’d let it die by early afternoon, just so that I didn’t have to feel my heart turn over every time the screen lit up with another call or text.
The next day was Monday, and I got out of bed and left Zelda’s apartment only because even down in the depth of my despair, I knew that missing work or school would take me down an even scarier path than the one I was on. I sleep-walked through the mundane tasks at the studio and the lecture at my evening class, even as I wondered if Tate would
be waiting for me outside the door. I was fully prepared to cut and run, but it wasn’t necessary; he wasn’t there.
The days took on a depressing sort of monotony. I moved from Zelda’s to the studio to school during the week, and then I stayed in bed all weekend long, breaking up stretches of sleep with junk food or liquor—sometimes both. And then I got up on Monday morning and started it all over again. It was like an eerie bizarro-world throwback to my life before Tate, only now it wasn’t taking place in my own run-down apartment; the setting had moved to Zelda’s gorgeous home. At least I was making some progress, I reasoned.
I thanked Zelda constantly for letting me stay. When I’d been with her for two and a half weeks, she met me at the front door as I came in after class.
“Okay, gorgeous, listen. I’ve been thinking about this, and we need to talk.”
My heart had plunged into my chest. Apparently, I’d worn out my welcome. I swallowed over the lump in my throat and nodded.
“Okay. If you can just let me get through this week, I’ll pack up and move out on Saturday morning. Thank you so much for letting me stay—”
“Whoa, there. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” She leaned one hand on the back of the sofa. “I was just thinking that we’re coming up to the middle of the month. Why don’t you give your landlord notice that you’re moving out? It’s crazy for you to pay rent there if you’re staying here.” She patted my arm. “And you’re welcome here as long as you want to stay, sweetie. But let’s cut your ties with that dump. This is part of your new start.”
I bit my lip. I didn’t have any particularly strong attachment to the apartment that had housed my meager existence for over a year, but I did have some fond memories of the last months I’d lived there. It was where Tate had become my friend, and then more than that. It was where he’d cooked for me, laughed with me and . . . and loved me.
If that was over, then it made even more sense to do what Zelda suggested. The problem was, I’d still been holding onto the notion that maybe I could undo what I’d done. Maybe, now that a few weeks had passed, I could talk to Tate and explain that I’d been spooked by his talk of houses and love and forever, but that if he wanted to go back to how we’d been before that awful day, I’d be willing to give it a shot.
Not Broken Anymore Page 21