Not Broken Anymore

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get back to my friends.” I tried to release Lana’s hand, but she tightened her grip.

  “You mean, you’re going to sneak out so that you don’t have to deal with the meat market out there. I get it. But why don’t you come sit with me and have a drink before you take off?”

  I didn’t want to do it. I just wanted to go home and lay on my couch and watch the highlights from today’s games. I didn’t want to talk to anyone or keep on my professional pleasant face.

  But this chick was press, and I couldn’t afford to piss her off, or I’d be risking bad exposure for the team. “Uh, sure. One drink and then I really do have to go. I live with my grandfather, and I need to make sure he’s okay.”

  She gazed at me, her eyes wide with incredulity, as we both took stools at the bar. “Now that’s either the best brush-off line I’ve ever heard, or you just won the award for ‘football hottie most likely to make women’s ovaries sing’.”

  I tried not to grimace. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I do live with my grandfather. He raised me, so I figure now that I can help him out, I should. Plus, he’s a great guy, so it works out well for both of us.” I signaled the bartender, who responded with a one moment finger.

  “God, you really are adorable.” The bartender paused in front of us, and Lana ordered a glass of red wine, while I asked for a bottle of water.

  “Hey, you played an amazing game today. You sure you don’t want a beer?” She gazed up at me through a fringe of dark lashes.

  “No, thanks. I’m driving home, and I want to keep a clear head.” I smiled at the bartender and thanked her before turning back to my companion. “Are you from around here?”

  “Yeah, actually I am. Well, South Jersey, if that counts as local.”

  “I say it does, because that’s where I’m from, too.” I hooked a thumb at my chest. “Gatbury.”

  “Seriously? My cousin went to school at Birch, and she and her husband live in Gatbury now. Small world.” She sipped her wine. “I’m from a tiny town down the shore. All of our family lives there . . . my aunt and uncle run a big Italian restaurant, and all the DiMartinos work for them at one point or another.”

  “That sounds fun.” When I thought of Italian food, I thought about taking Gia to Amico’s, both the first night we’d met and the night she’d kissed me for the first time. I wondered if my memories of our time together would someday lose their bittersweet edge.

  “It is. Mostly. And kind of a pain in the ass sometimes, too. But enough about me. Tell me all about Tate Durham, the newest Philadelphia football hunk.”

  I gritted my teeth. “I’m just here to do a job, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to do it. This team has tremendous promise. I’m excited to see what the season brings.”

  Lana smirked. “You spout the company line to perfection. But I’d like to know something a little more . . . personal.”

  Danger sirens rang in my head. “Uh, okay. Like what? There’s really not much to tell. I live with my grandfather, I train, I eat and I sleep. On Sundays or Mondays or the occasional Thursday night, I play football. That’s it.”

  “So there’s no Mrs. Tate Durham?”

  “Nope.” I took a swig of my water. “Not yet.”

  “Is there a likely candidate for the role?” She quirked one eyebrow. “In other words, are you dating someone seriously?”

  I took a deep breath. “It’s . . . complicated. I guess I’m single, but I’m not looking for a relationship.”

  “Are you gay?”

  I shot her a glance of bemusement. “No, I’m not.”

  “Because you know, it’s okay to come out now. You don’t have to pretend and hide.”

  “I’m not, I promise you.” I shook my head. “But if I were, that would be my business. Just like what’s going on in my personal life is my business. I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll be happy to discuss football in general or the prospects for the team, but anything beyond that is off-limits.”

  “All right. Fine.” Lana lifted one slim shoulder. “Then my next question is this.” She swiveled her stool so that her knees were pressed up against the side of my thigh. “Do you feel your performance on the field would be enhanced by participation in a night of no-strings sex with a random admirer?”

  Before I could digest the outrageousness of her words, Lana followed up the question with action, leaning up and grasping my chin, turning my face toward hers and kissing me solidly on the lips.

  For the first few seconds, I was astounded into paralysis. And then for a moment after that, I didn’t pull back, because . . . I wondered. All the time I’d been focused on Gia, waiting for her to be available and ready for me, I’d never been tempted by another woman. Not really. But Gia had made it clear that she didn’t want me, and although I knew I’d never love anyone the way I did her, maybe I owed it to myself to at least find out if I could be attracted to someone else.

  So I let Lana kiss me for the space of several heartbeats. Her lips were soft and insistent, and she kissed with skill and persuasion, but I didn’t feel anything, not even a mild spark of attraction. As a matter of fact, I had a pounding sense of something being very wrong.

  “Lana.” I pushed her away as gently as I could. “Hey, look. I’m flattered. Really, I am. But I’m committed to someone else.” I smiled wryly. “Even if she isn’t ready to belong to me yet, I still belong to her. I appreciate your offer, but it’s not going to happen.”

  I wasn’t sure how she was going to respond. I knew for a fact that women could be unpredictable, and if she took offense at a perceived rejection, she could slap my face or knee me in the balls. Anything was possible.

  But she didn’t. Instead, she gave a little huff of laughter and leaned back. “Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying. And just so you know, this isn’t my normal MO. I don’t set out to seduce all the new players. As a rule, I don’t mess with anyone on the team at all.”

  “I should feel special, then?” I winked at her, just to show I didn’t harbor hard feelings.

  “Oh, absolutely. Consider yourself unique.” She leaned back, studying me. “This girl who you’re so hung up on . . . is she something special?”

  I nodded. “She is. She’s the most beautiful, most amazing women I’ve ever known. She makes me happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”

  “If she’s so amazing, why are you here in a bar by yourself after your home opener? Why isn’t she with you, celebrating your victory?”

  I finished my water and crushed the bottle in one hand. “It’s—”

  “I know, I know. It’s complicated.” Lana grinned. “Well, don’t think of this as me coming onto you or making a pass or anything, but if you ever need a friend in the press, give me a call.” She fished a business card out of her purse and passed it to me.

  I took it from her and tucked it into my pocket. “I’ll keep that in mind. Oh, hey, maybe you could give me some info. Do you know if the Rebels won today? Leo Taylor’s an old friend of mine. We played together at Carolina.” I lifted my phone. “I forgot to check before I left the stadium, and my coverage in here is crap.”

  “That I can help you with.” Lana polished off her wine and signaled for another. “Richmond won today, and Leo the Lion was the talk of all the media. He introduced a girlfriend no one knew he had, and he basically proposed to her right there in the hallway outside the locker room. The video’s gone viral.”

  “No way!” My smile was broad. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. They’re both friends of mine, and they deserve all the happiness they can find.” I paused and then added, “You can quote me on that.”

  Lana threw back her head and laughed. “Thanks. I didn’t get mind-blowing sex, but I scored a quote on a story that didn’t even happen in the city I cover.”

  “You’re welcome.” I stood up and dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the bar. “This is to cover our drinks. Thanks for the conversation.”
>
  “Um, dude, maybe you haven’t drunk for a while, but this is way more than they’re going to charge for a bottle of water and two glasses of wine.” Lana tapped the bill.

  “Have an order of potato skins on me.” I patted her back. “See you around, Lana.”

  When I stepped out of the bar into the waning light of late afternoon, the sounds of the city seemed muted after the noise of the crowd inside. I’d just begun walking toward my car when I felt my phone buzz against my ass.

  “Guess reception’s better out here,” I muttered to myself as I pulled the phone out of my pocket. It was most likely Pops, texting to see if I’d be home for dinner . . . or maybe even Leo, with news about his reunion with Quinn.

  Of course, on second thought, if Leo was finally with the girl he’d loved forever, the last thing he’d be worried about was getting in touch with me.

  I squinted down at the screen, and at first, I assumed the glare from the last ray of sunlight was making me see things. Frowning, I stepped under a nearby awning and took off my sunglasses before I checked out the phone again. When I saw it clearly, my heart stopped.

  Gia: Hi, Tate. I saw your game today. You played so well—congratulations on the win. I was proud of you. I know this is out of the blue, but I wanted you to know I was thinking of you. I was wondering if maybe, someday, you’d want to get together and talk. If you don’t want to see me, I understand.

  I miss you.

  I read the message three times before I could digest it. Gia. She’d watched the game. And she wanted to see me.

  And she missed me.

  I wanted to run down the street and yell at the top of my lungs. I wanted to shout to the rooftops. I wanted to drop to my knees here on the sidewalk and weep with relief.

  My hands were shaking, but I managed to respond, even though I typed two messages before I decided on the right one to send.

  I love you, babe. I can come to you right now. Tell me where you are.

  No, too much. Gia’s text had been cautious, and I needed to follow her lead.

  Hey—sure, I can do that. Let me know when you’re ready and what might work for you.

  No. Too casual. It sounded like I was setting up a meeting to buy a used car. I didn’t want to spook her, but I also wanted her to understand how happy I was to hear from her.

  And so because honesty had always been the best bet with Gia, that was the way I went.

  Gia, getting this message meant more to me than winning the game. I don’t want to come on too strong and make you second-guess contacting me, but I definitely want to see you. Give me a time and a place, and I’ll be there.

  I miss you, too. So very much.

  I hit send and prayed for the best.

  Now

  “Good morning, Gia. How’re you doing today?” Darla leaned back in her ratty old recliner rocker and smiled serenely at me.

  This was how my therapist always began our sessions, and if I tried to gloss over it with a pat answer like, “I’m fine, thanks, how are you?” then she’d skewer me with a stare, following it up with, “If you’re fine, then I suppose today will be a very short session.”

  Consequently, I tried to keep it real. Today, I drew in a deep breath first and took inventory. “I’m not bad. I feel about fifty percent positive about the future. And . . . I’m restless.”

  “Are you, now?” Darla smiled. “Why do you think that is?”

  I knew better than to blurt out what I always thought when she asked this kind of question: that’s why I’m here, so you can help me figure it out! I’d learned early that Darla didn’t give me answers; she helped me to find them myself.

  “I’m not sure,” I hedged. “But I haven’t felt this way for a long time. I can’t remember the last time, actually.”

  “I wonder . . .” Darla began, and I braced myself. When she used those words, it meant some suggested insight was coming behind it. “I wonder if perhaps this kind of restlessness isn’t like the itching of a scab on a wound. Did your mother ever tell you that if something was itching, it meant that it was healing?”

  That rang a bell. “Maybe. So you think I could be restless because I’m getting better?”

  “Do you think that could be it?”

  I twisted my mouth. “I’m afraid to even hope for that.”

  Darla cocked an eyebrow at me. “Language, Gia.” There were certain words and phrases that Darla claimed spoke life into the negative rather than the positive. Being afraid to hope definitely fell into that category.

  “Okay. I hope that’s what this means. But hoping it makes me a little nervous, because I’m not sure I’m ready to be better.”

  “Hmmm.” She nodded. “Let’s put a pin in that for now. We’ll revisit it at the end of the session. I want to talk about the last time you saw Matt.”

  I flinched. I’d known this was probably coming at some point or another, but I hadn’t expected to talk about it today. Darla and I had dissected my relationship with Matt from lots of different angles. We’d discussed our sex life, our fights and even the fleeting good times. I’d haltingly and through tears told her about turning my body over to the football players at Birch and about Matt’s subsequent punishment. But as difficult as all of that had been, what she asked of me today might have been the most painful of all.

  “I planned it out for two weeks. I practiced what I needed to say—Zelda helped. I knew I had to stick to the script, because if I veered off course, Matt would manipulate me into changing my mind. I bought my plane ticket so that I only had a very short window of time to be with Matt—I had to be back at the airport four hours after I arrived. And I made sure Leo was there, because I didn’t feel safe alone with Matt anymore.

  “When I got there, he acted like nothing had changed, but I think he figured it out pretty quickly when I refused to sit down, let alone to have sex with him. I started to work my script, and he . . . cried. When he realized that I was serious and wasn’t backing down, he got down on his knees and begged me not to leave him. He said I was the only good thing in his life. I was the only one who’d never left him.” My throat swelled, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak, remembering.

  “But you were resolute.” Darla’s voice was soft and encouraging.

  “Yes.” I swallowed. “I was. I told him that I knew I couldn’t save him, that he had to save himself. I said that as long as I stayed with him, he wouldn’t have any incentive to get better, because I allowed him to stay in the dark place.”

  “What was his response?”

  “When he figured out that begging wasn’t working, he switched tactics and began screaming at me. He called me every name you can imagine, and he told me that I was nothing, that he could replace me with any, um . . .” I coughed. “Any cunt any day of the week. He said that he’d only let me stay out of pity, because I was pathetic and worthless. He struck out at every point of vulnerability he knew I had.

  “And I let it happen. I stayed there as long as I’d planned, because . . . well, I told myself it was because I’d set up my ride back to the airport at a specific time, but it was really because I felt like I owed it to him. In my mind, this was the last time I was going to see him, so I needed to let him have his say. But once the alarm on my phone went off, I told him I was leaving. He followed me out of the bedroom, still shouting, and then into the corridor outside his apartment, screaming at me.

  “I just about ran to the lobby and outside to where the car was waiting for me, and then I got on the plane and went home. I told myself that it was over, and that I’d done the only thing I could have.”

  “And do you still believe that?” Darla shifted in her chair.

  I considered for a few seconds. “Yes. I don’t think there was any other way I could have handled it. I tried to help Matt all along. I tried to talk him into getting into a program or counseling . . . and I wasn’t the only one who tried to do that.”

  “You keep using the word tried. I didn’t know Matt, of course, althou
gh I’ll admit that since you and I have begun our sessions, I’ve been fascinated with his story. I wish I could have had the opportunity to speak with him. However, that being said, my suspicion is that a lot of people attempted to save Matt. What’s sad is that the one person who could’ve convinced him to change his life never really believed it was possible.” She paused. “And that was Matt himself.”

  I nodded, but I couldn’t quite get out any words yet.

  Darla must have sensed that, because she took pity on me, shifting the focus of our conversation. “Two weeks later, Matt made the decision to end his life. We’ve talked about this a little—about how you felt guilty that your decision to break off the relationship may have led to his suicide. But what truth do you know now?”

  I exhaled. “I know that Matt is the one who made that choice. There was nothing I could have done to change what happened. I might have delayed it by sticking with him, but once he’d made up his mind, his death was inevitable. And it was the mental illness that forced him to think suicide was the only way out. No matter how much I loved him, that sickness always spoke louder than I did.”

  “Yes.” Darla smacked the arm of her chair. “Now, you’re saying the words, Gia, but do you believe them? Do you feel their truth?”

  I nodded. “I really do.”

  “Excellent. Then let’s discuss Tate and why you ended that relationship.”

  Frowning, I crossed my legs. “We’ve talked about that. A lot.”

  “We have. And what conclusion did you come to about your break up?”

  “I wasn’t ready.” I shrugged. “There wasn’t anything wrong with Tate, but I wasn’t emotionally able to handle commitment.”

  “Yet.” Darla held up one finger. “But you made the choice Matt didn’t, and you sought help, didn’t you? Which means that you’re getting better. When you went back to your old school and spoke about Matt, you told me that you weren’t ready to see Tate again yet. How do you feel about that now?”