It Was Me (18 page)

FORTY

There was a knock on the door the next morning. Griffin and I had battled over the bathroom, with me beating him to the shower.

“Are you getting the door?” I yelled from inside the bathroom.

“I'm not dressed.”

“Yeah, me, either,” I said. I tugged on a pair of boxer briefs, then grabbed the pair of shorts folded up on the sink.

The knocking got louder.

He had two roommate appointments that morning but I didn't know what time.

I opened the bathroom door, my hair still dripping and saw a half-naked Griffin pulling the front door open.

Tana's mouth dropped open.

I hurried down the hallway, zipping and buttoning my shorts.

“Hey,” I said, pushing Griffin out of the way. He wore a threadbare pair of white boxers that hid nothing. And there was a shitload he should have had tucked away that morning.

Tana lifted her eyes from his raging hard-on.

“Uh. Hi.”

“You're the best friend,” Griffin said, smiling. “Right? Tanya?”

“Tana,” she said. “And you're the best friend, too.”

They'd only met once, I realized. She'd spent most of the year in San Luis at school.

“Dude, go get dressed,” I said.

“I was waiting for the shower.”

I leaned close to him, my voice low. “Watching porn while you were waiting?” I nodded toward the flagpole in his shorts.

He grinned. “Just my way of saying good morning.”

Tana bit back a smile.

I shoved him. Hard. “Go.”

“I wasn't done talking,” he complained. “Or looking. Have you always been this hot?” he asked Tana.

“Yep.”

He burst out laughing. “I think I like you. We should go out.”

“In your dreams.”

“I'm your wildest dream come true,” he told her, his smile electric.

“He's actually a total fucking nightmare,” I said. I shoved him again. “Go shower before I kick your ass.”

“Whatever,” he said good-naturedly. “You think about it, Tana. 'Cuz I'll be thinking about you in the shower.” He strolled down the hallway and closed the bathroom door.

I turned back to look at her. “I'm sorry. He can be an overbearing ass sometimes but he's harmless.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Harmless? Seems like a sexist pig to me.”

“Well, he is,” I admitted. “But he's also a pretty decent friend. Most days.” I looked at her. “Don't take this the wrong way...but why are you here?”

She hooked her thumb under the strap on her shoulder and adjusted her purse. “I went over to Abby's last night. She told me she talked to you.”

“Okay.” I waited a minute. “You wanna come in and talk? I have to leave for work but I have a few minutes.”

“Sure.”

She stepped inside and her eyes scanned the living room. I looked at it through a stranger's eyes—the empty beer bottles on the coffee table, my dirty socks still on the floor. The sink was piled with dirty dishes and crumbs littered the dining room table. I couldn't remember the last time we'd vacuumed.

“It's kind of a mess.” I wondered if Griffin had any plans to clean up before the potential roommates came over.

“Duh. Two guys live here.” She brushed the crumbs to the floor and took a seat at the table.

“You want some orange juice or something?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Okay.” I sat down next to her. “So you saw Abby last night?”

“I saw all of the Sellers, actually.” She set her purse on the table. “Her mom goes in for her first round of chemo today. I brought over some cookies. She loves chocolate. I know she won't be hungry but sometimes it helps to have foods you like.”

I nodded. It was a nice gesture, exactly something I would expect Tana to do.

“Except I'm not a great baker,” she said, smiling.

“No?”

“Not even good, actually.” She made a face. “I burned half of them.”

I smiled. “Half isn't too bad.”

“I guess.” She was quiet for a minute. “Anyway, I talked to Abby for a little bit. About...things.”

“You mean about us.”

She nodded.

“So she told you we saw each other.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Look, I'm not here to defend her or anything. I just want you to know where she's coming from.”

“We were together for almost a year, Tana,” I said. “I'm pretty sure I know where she's coming from. She told me.”

“I know, I know.” She stared at the table. “I just...I just wish there was a way to fix all this. She came back from Arizona and she was so happy. Like, everything was perfect. She couldn't stop talking about how excited she was. About you. Moving to Arizona. Transferring there. You made her happy, West. You did that.”

I leaned back in my chair and listened.

“And then she found out about her mom. Mrs. Sellers didn't want to tell her. She was actually going to delay treatment until Abby left. But her dad thought she should know before she left. He knew how upset she'd be if they kept it from her.” She played with the strap on her purse, winding it around her finger. “I don't think anyone expected her to do what she did. Her mom wanted her to go to Arizona. Stick with the plan. Her dad was more on board with her sticking around here.” She looked up at me. “But no one wanted her to break things off with you.”

“Well, she did.”

“I know,” she said, nodding. “I'm just saying no one expected that. Or wanted it.”

I shrugged. “I'm not sure it really matters.”

“It probably doesn't,” she said. “I just...” Her voice trailed off and she frowned.

“What?”

“I'm not sure what I'm trying to say,” she said, shaking her head. “I guess...I guess I just wanted you to know that she isn't doing this to hurt you.”

“Well that's a big fucking fail then.”

She nodded. “I know. But you have to understand. She thinks she's doing what's best for you. She knows it's not the best thing for her. But she honestly thinks it's what's best for you.”

“She's wrong. Dead wrong.”

“Maybe. But in her head she thinks she's got it dead right. She doesn't want to be the girlfriend that keeps you from this great opportunity, you know? She doesn't want to be one of those girls because she's afraid you'll end up resenting her for it.”

“I wouldn't,” I said, leaning back in the chair. “I wouldn't.”

“Maybe,” she said, looking at me. “But you don't know that for sure.”

“Yeah. I do.”

She shook her head. “No. You don't. You might know it right now. But in a few years? Maybe you don't get another chance and maybe it starts to hurt a little more than you thought it would. And maybe you think about it more than you thought you would.” She shrugged. “You never know. But she doesn't want to be the one responsible for that.”

I looked away from her. I didn't think a word of what she was saying would ever come true. I didn't know if I'd get another chance, but I was pretty damn sure I'd never find another Abby. I wouldn't ever resent
that
.

“Tell her she's wrong,” I said.

“I did. I have. She won't listen.”

“Convince her.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I've tried. Because I know she's going to be absolutely miserable when you leave. I'm with you. This shouldn't be happening. But she's not listening. To me or anyone else.”

I rolled my eyes. So goddamned stubborn.

“You think she'd really refuse to see me if I stayed?” I asked.

Her mouth twisted for a moment and then she gave me a half smile. “I'm not sure. My first reaction is to say no, I think she'd cave.” The smile faded. “But she's serious about not wanting to be the albatross, the chick who kept you from baseball. And you know how stubborn she is. So it's certainly possible.”

I sighed. “This is such bullshit.”

“It really is,” she said. “I'm sorry. I wish I had an answer for you.” She stood. “But I just wanted you to know. It's killing her, but she really is doing it for you.”

I stood. “Thanks. I think.”

“Leaving so soon?” Griffin asked, emerging from the bathroom in nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist.

She looked him up and down. “If you were really thinking of me in the shower, I have to say I'm disappointed that you're done so quickly.”

He started to say something, then stopped. She'd done the impossible. She'd rendered him speechless.

She walked over and patted his damp, bare chest. “Maybe work on your stamina for awhile and then get back to me, 'kay?”

He opened his mouth again, but failed to find the words.

Tana looked at me as she opened the door. “If anything changes or I think of anything, West, I'll let you know. I promise.”

FORTY ONE

Spending the day at work convinced me of what I needed to do.

I'd left Griffin to work on his stamina after Tana said goodbye and I'd headed back to the academy for a full day of work. As much as I didn't feel like working, I knew that having a distraction was better than sitting around and stewing all day.

I led my group through stretching and warm-ups before we went through a series of fielding drills and then hit the cages to work on driving the ball to the opposite field. It was one of those subtle skills that young players rarely worked on, but could make a huge difference to coaches evaluating them for traveling and high school teams. I showed them how to shift their feet, how to sit back in the box and wait on the pitch and how to tweak their swing just enough to send the ball in the opposite direction. Most struggled at first, but slowly they began to pick it up and started swinging with confidence. By the end of the day, I was able to call out where I wanted them to drive the ball and most could do it without much warning. They were high-fiving and excited as they left for the day.

And I knew that any of them would kill for the offer I was waffling on.

If Abby wanted me to stay, I would. No questions asked. I would.

But if she didn't want me there? It was stupid to stay and waste the opportunity. A waste of my time and a waste of a chance that had fallen into my lap. I didn't want to be Patrick in a few years, scrambling to make ends meet, wondering if I could slide into some coaching job that might cover the bills for at least a few months. I'd do it if I had Abby by my side but without her? Not a chance.

So I knew I owed Coach Childs a phone call and I knew what I was going to tell him.

I got home and tossed my keys on the counter. I called out for Griffin, but didn't get an answer. I assumed he was out surfing or eating or doing something else Griffin-like. I grabbed my phone and sat down on the couch. I thumbed through the directory and found his number. I stared at it.

Once I called him, there was no going back. I wasn't going to tell him yes and then go back on my word again. I wasn't going to do that to him.

My finger hovered over the number.

But a knock on the door stopped me.

I set the phone down on the coffee table and went to answer it.

Annika frowned at me when I opened the door. “Took you long enough.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, sighing.

“That's not a very pleasant way to say hello.”

“Sue me.”

“Perhaps someday,” she asked. “Can I come in for a minute?”

“No. I think we covered that.”

“West, come on.”

“I'm serious.”

She pushed her sunglasses up on her head. “I'm serious, too. I want to talk to you and I don't want to stand in your doorway to do it.”

I flashed back to the only other time she'd been in my home. “No.”

She rolled her eyes. “Look, I'll stay like ten feet away, alright? I'll keep my hands where you can see them. Jesus. Come on.”

I didn't say anything.

A sly smile crept onto her lips. “Or maybe you don't trust yourself.”

“You're right,” I said. “I don't trust myself to keep my hands off your throat and choke the shit out of you.”

“Kinky.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you gonna let me in or are we gonna keep doing the witty repartee thing here?” she asked, frowning.

I sighed again and stepped to the side so she could come in.

She stood in the middle of the living room, her hands on her hips. “You need a maid.”

I shut the door. “What do you want, Annika?”

She turned to face me. “I need to give you something.”

“The last time you were here and gave me something, it nearly cost me your sister.”

She winced. “I'm aware. And now I'm trying to make sure you don't lose her.”

I didn't want to be curious, but I was and I couldn't hide it. “How's that?”

She reached in the big leather bag over her shoulder, fished inside of it and pulled out a piece of paper. “With this.”

“What is it?”

She held it out to me and wiggled it in the air. Reluctantly, I reached out and took it from her.

“A phone number?” I asked, confused. “What the hell is this?”

“There's also a name, genius.”

I looked at the sheet. Scrawled under the number was the name John Winfield.

“Some guy give this to you last night at a bar or what?” I asked, still not understanding.

She sat down on the coffee table, crossing her legs and folding her arms across her chest. “Have you ever tried not being a wiseass?”

“I did but it didn't take.”

“No shit,” she said, shaking her head. “Look, Abby is a mess.”

“Well, that's her choice. It's not mine.”

“I know that,” she said. “So I'm trying to fix it.”

“That'd be a first.”

“Right?” She smiled at me. “I'm trying to see what a good deed feels like.”

“Foreign. I'd guess it would feel foreign.”

“Ha. Well, I'm tired of her mopey ass around the house and honestly, so are my parents.”

A small part of me was happy that Abby was moping and miserable. It at least confirmed to me that she did actually love me.

“And she's not going to be any help with Mom when...you know,” she said, looking away. “If she's like this, she's not going to be able to help anyone.”

I didn't say anything.

“So I'm trying to fix it,” she said.

I held up the paper. “With some random dude's phone number.”

“Honest to God, you are dumber than concrete,” she said, rolling her eyes. She pointed at the sheet. “Do you know him?”

I looked at the number and name again. “No.”

“He's a baseball coach. At USD.”

“Good for him.”

“You need to call him.”

“Why?”

“Uh, because he's a baseball coach and you're supposedly a baseball player.”

I held the sheet out to her. “No thanks.”

She refused to take it and looked at me, as pissed as I'd ever seen her. “What do you mean no thanks?”

“I mean I'm not gonna cold call some baseball coach,” I said. “I see where you're going here and that's not how it works. You don't just call up coaches and say 'Hey, can I come play at your school?'” I shook the sheet. “So no thanks.”

She stared at me for a moment. “How the hell did anyone so dumb get into Stanford? Did you fuck the admissions chick?”

“Go to hell.”

She pointed at the sheet. “He's
expecting
you to call, dumbass!”

I looked at her, then at the sheet, then back at her again.

“What?” she asked. “Nothing witty to say now?”

“I don't understand.”

She sighed and it was as if she was having to explain the alphabet to me. “There's a guy that I know that plays for USD. Corey Arnold. I got the name from him. I got him to talk to his coach about you. I believe they may have looked up your statistics or some shit like that that would absolutely bore me to death. All I know is that after I fucked Corey's brains out, he went and talked to his coach about you and apparently the coach knows who you are and wants to talk to you.” She leaned forward. “About playing baseball, West. Here. In San Diego.”

I blinked several times, my eyes moving back and forth between her and the paper. “Why?”

“Well, I guess it's because they think you're good or something,” she said, holding up her hands in bewilderment. “I have no idea. I mean, I'm sure I had a little something to do with it because Corey certainly enjoyed when I...”

“No,” I said. “I mean why are you doing this?”

She suddenly became fascinated with one of her fingernails, staring at it intently. Finally, she lifted her head and offered a small smile. “Because my sister is a wreck,” she said. “An absolute wreck. And no matter what's gone on between us, I don't like seeing her like this.” She shrugged. “So I thought I'd try to fix it.”

I didn't know what to say or what to think. It was the last thing I was expecting.

She stood and adjusted the massive purse on her arm. “Do you remember when I told you in Tucson that sometimes...sometimes I'm not really sure how to be?” She bit her bottom lip, then shook her head. “This is one of those moments, I guess. This is new territory for me. I'm trying to do the right thing. So I'm not really sure if it is. I just thought you might want to talk to the guy.”

We stood there awkwardly for a moment, then she shrugged and walked past me to the door. I heard her open it and I finally managed to turn around.

“Annika,” I said.

She stopped, but didn't turn around.

“Thank you,” I said. “I...thank you.”

“There's no promises,” she said, still staring at the street. “I don't know what he'll tell you. But maybe it's something.”

“I know,” I said. “But...thank you.”

She turned around and I was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

“You're welcome,” she said. “You giant dumbass.”

I smiled. “Bitch.”

She smiled back at me and dropped her sunglasses over her eyes. “That's more like it.”