Love's Learning Curve (13 page)

“I’m sorry, Morgan.  I know it’s all … well … different,” I try to tell her.  I’m just not really sure how to explain all that I’m feeling and how my clarity really came forth, but I have to try.  So I start at the beginning.  “This morning, when I woke up to the rants of my mother, I read the first text and panicked.  I turned off my phone and went for a run to clear my head so I could deal with it all.”

“But how did you find Tyler again?  I know you were experimenting last night and letting your hair down, but I’m not really sure Tyler Stone is the best way to test your boundaries.”  I know in my heart this is not just testing boundaries, but I don’t actually know what I am trying to accomplish yet. 
I just want to feel alive.

“I came home early last night.  I only stayed at the party for a couple of hours.  I tried to find you.  It was crowded and crazy.  I was overwhelmed.  Then …” I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit aloud that the panic attacks that plagued me for many years have returned.  They started when I was younger, when it felt like my parents were throwing me to wolves and I could never meet their expectations in our social settings.  I hadn’t had one in years until last night.  “I had a panic attack, and Tyler was there.  Thankfully, he got me out of there before anyone noticed and brought me back here.  He was nice to me.”

She shakes her head and moves toward me, closing the space between us and sitting in front of me on my bed.  “Oh, my God, Charlotte.  Why didn’t you call me?  You could have called me.  You SHOULD have called ME!”  Taking my hands into hers, she squeezes.  “Tyler Stone is not the kind of person you want HELP from.  I promise.  He’s not the helpful type guy.  He has a motive if you know what I mean.”

This statement seems inaccurate, and it sends my brain into a complete tailspin.  Tyler is helpful.  What he did for me not only last night, but also this morning, was priceless.  Without him, I’m positive I would have nothing to smile about today.  I don’t know what she knows about him that I don’t—which could be a lot since I know very little—but what I do know is that, at this point, he was a friend when I needed one, last night and today.  For me, that counts for something.

“How well do you know him?”  I ask, hoping she doesn’t know him intimately, but wanting more information.  The way she is covertly telling me that I should not have relied on him for help is odd.  “I mean, what do you know about him that has you warning me away from him?”

“So you really have no clue who he is, do you?”  Her question is not helping to resolve my concern.  The smirk on her face as she looks at me like I’m completely clueless is a true sign I’m about to be lectured, but before she does, I have things to say.

“I know that he’s been very nice to me.  I know he’s a baseball player.  I know he’s well liked by the Taylor family.  I know he has a truck and a motorcycle, and I’ve been in both.   I know that he values my safety, tries to learn things about me, and cared enough about my bad day to stop what he was doing to help fix it.  Most importantly, I know he cares about people.  He doesn’t like to see them hurt or struggle.  He has a kind heart.  That’s enough for me to think he’s a nice person right now.  If you have information to disclose that will negate what I’ve learned, then please clue me in, but I doubt you can.  Even if you know a different side of him, Morgan, this is the side of him that he showed me and I liked it all,” I quip, annoyed that instead of being supportive and giving me a chance to tell her everything, she judged the situation and left me on the defensive.  She’s trying to take this opportunity to prove once again how naïve I am, but I’m pretty sure she’s wrong this time.

I see the walls come down, and her sarcasm leave.  She knows I’m serious and that this open conversation will soon end.  I’ve had enough of people talking down to me because of my lack of experience, but I really don’t need it from Morgan as well right now.  She begins to speak, and I see that she’s carefully choosing her words.

“Tyler Stone is the star pitcher on the baseball team, not just a player.  Almost every Major League team out there is scouting him.  He’s also a guy who doesn’t do relationships”—she pauses, waiting for my eyes to meet her own—“EVER.  He’s not a bad person, but he’s not the kind of guy to be into a girl without getting a payout in the end.  I’m just worried that you’re not ready for the kind of ‘guy’ he is.”

Wow.  Maybe I’m more oblivious to the world around me than I thought.  I had no idea he was a superstar jock.  But I don’t see the other stuff.  He never made a move on me and never tried to take advantage of my weakness.  He didn’t have to take me for that ride to clear my head today, yet he did, and he’d didn’t try to get his ‘pay.’  We could have easily parted ways in the parking lot, and I wouldn’t have thought anything of it.  Maybe after our little chat, he knew that wouldn’t work or maybe my inexperience was a turn-off.  I don’t know, but obviously, he decided I’d be good enough as a friend.

It’s possible I suck at reading people, and he has a not-so-great side.  As much as I want to trust that Morgan is right and resolve myself to go with her expertise and move on with my life, I can’t help but feel she may have misjudged him.

“Morgan, he had every chance to take advantage of me, but he didn’t.  He may very well be the type of person you are describing, but I don’t think so.  He’s my friend, nothing more.”  For once in my life, I want to figure things out on my own.  Even if I later discover it was a mistake, it’ll be my own mistake to make.  I’ve made a new friend in Tyler Stone, and I can certainly afford a friend like him in my life.  Knowing that she may not support me nurturing this new friendship hurts a bit, but I don’t need it.  I know that.   Her acceptance to allow me the space to learn and experience life is important, but I won’t shut down if she doesn’t.

“I need this.  Look around me.  I’m ready to experience more out of life.  I can’t live in a bubble forever.  I’m trying to build bridges here.  Please … I just want to live my life a little. Be supportive.”

The emotions I’ve fought back since the panic attack the night before are finally coming out and leaking down my cheeks.  I can’t hold them back anymore.  Morgan wraps me in her arms.  Her embrace is a warm blanket of comfort through my tears as the pent-up fear from the anxiety session, the ache in my heart from the words of my mother, and the unknowns of Tyler’s intentions for me finally release.

I’m a mess.  I was so confident for those moments on the motorcycle and enjoyed lunch.  Now, I’m not really sure what I’m doing, but I know that I can’t let it all go.  I have to move forward in my pursuit, and I need to start by responding to my mother.  Then I’ll go on this adventure with Tyler tonight and see for myself what this new friendship holds.  If he’s not the person I believe him to be and more like the man Morgan described, then I will cut my losses and move on, but I won’t stop attempting to make new friends.

This isn’t about Tyler.  This is about me, Charlotte Maryland Baker.  I deserve more out of life than being a political pawn for my parents to use and abuse.  I am an adult.

I have absolutely no reason to hide in this bubble forever.  The only thing that promises is a life alone.  Eventually, Morgan will move on with her life.  We’ll graduate from college and have careers.  She’ll probably get married and have her own family.  I can’t say that the same life is in store for me, but I’m hopeful.

When the emotions of the situation dissipate, Morgan, of course, with her ever-perfect timing tells me to get dressed; we’re going shopping.  I know I should decline and stay here to work on my paper that’s due soon, and it wouldn’t hurt to do some studying, but I can’t help but think shopping may be just what we need.

Before I jump up to start getting ready, I know I need to address the enormous elephant sitting on my chest and return a message to my mother.  I can’t leave this wound open.  Placating my mother is impossible, so there’s no use in attempting that.  I know that no matter what she sees, she’ll always assume the absolute worse of me.  I can’t overcome that, so the only thing I can do is respond honestly with my feelings and hope that it somehow sparks a flame of maternal instinct.  Maybe she’ll accept what I have to say.

While Morgan is busy primping and I have a minute to myself, I open the text messages my mother sent me in the early hours of the morning and cringe at her words all over again.

Sabotaging your father’s reputation …

Giving you a perfect life …

Ashamed to be your mother …

Disgusted with you …

It should hurt more than it does that I’m disposable to her.  I’m not now nor have I ever been a troublemaker.  At twenty-one years old, I’m not sure I can recall even one occasion when I’ve blatantly skirted the rules intending to cause problems for either of my parents.  Her accusations are unfounded.

Opening the box to start my reply, my fingers hover over the letters not knowing exactly how to word my response.  I want to tell her that I deserve better.  I want to remind her that I’ve worked tirelessly to match the image of a perfect daughter for them.  I want to scream it all from the rooftops and pray that she hears it.

She treats me unfairly.  She’s sacrificed my quality of life to benefit them.  I want to defend myself.  But in spite of the inner turmoil boiling, I know not to ‘handle’ Sandra Jacqueline Baker that way, so I carefully prepare my response, tiptoeing around my true feelings and attempting to smooth things over, knowing I’ll fail anyway.

Me: Mother, I’m very sorry that you received word that I was acting inappropriately.  I assure you, that’s not the case.  I’m unsure of the photographs you refer to.  However, no matter what, you need to know that I was at the college party for a very short amount of time.

I have no clue how my mother was able to acquire photographs, but she’s a resourceful woman, so I have no doubt they exist.  I hate that I have to defend myself against the unknowns, but I know that no matter what story the photos paint, I’ve done nothing wrong, so I type out another message before she can reply.

Me: I was back in my room studying until the wee hours.  I apologize for missing your messages this morning.  I went for a run.  I’m very sorry you were upset by my actions.  I assure you that was never my intention.

When my alerts chime, I don’t want to look.  I don’t want to ruin my mood, and the short amount of time I’ve spent addressing this with her is stealing my bright light and sunshine leaving only a gloomy cloud in its place.  I need to clear my gray skies and renew my earlier resolution to stop allowing the world to pass me by.

Mother: Charlotte, then please explain being on the back of a boy’s motorcycle all morning gallivanting around town.  This is insane.  Are you on drugs?  You are so disrespectful.  You have no regard for our values and fully intend to do what you want even if it ruins the image we’ve worked so hard to create.  To say I’m disgusted would be putting it mildly, young lady. 

Oh.  My.  God.  So she is definitely having me watched, but I never once saw anyone watching, and I looked continuously.  I’m angry that my reputation is being called into question for something innocent.  I’ve done NOTHING to ever warrant this.

Me: Mother, your information is flawed.  You’re missing some major pieces.  No, I’m not on drugs, and I cannot believe you’d think that.  Here is the accurate information about the past 24 hours.  1.  YES, my friend did drive me home from the party last night.  I was not enjoying myself and wanted to leave quickly, and he helped me by bringing me home where I spent the evening in my room studying, as I said before, ALONE.  2.  I went for a run this morning.  I took a different route than normal and ended up tiring myself before I could get back.  The very same FRIEND from last night saw me sitting in the park taking a break and offered to give me a ride back AGAIN.  We stopped, had lunch, and now, I’m home.  I’m thankful to my friend.  He’s a very nice guy.

I want more than anything to throw this phone across the room and watch it shatter into a million pieces.  Anger seems to be the easiest emotion to withdraw from my treasury of unshed feelings lately.  Allowing the reflex to fuel me, I type vigorously into the keypad realizing I’m far from finished saying what needs to be said.  I rarely, if ever, challenge my mother to this level, but enough is enough.

Me: For once, I wish you could see and take into consideration all that I’ve sacrificed for you and my father.  It would be nice to have the tables turned and receive only a fraction of the concern that you so easily give to things pertaining to THE FAMILY’S public image.  I am 21 years old and have only ever lived for you. That time is over.  I will live life for myself now as well.  Accept it.  Embrace it, even.  If you’re unable, feel free to count me out of the campaign trail.  Do what you need to do.  I know I will.  I’ll be going out shopping with Morgan this afternoon.  I’m sorry you’re upset, but I hope this resolves your doubts, and you can move on in a more accepting and supportive way.  I’m positive that will be more peaceful for you in the end.

I wait for a response and when one doesn’t come, I know that either she’s understood my words or I’ve started a war.  I would guess the latter, unfortunately.  But what can she really do?  She needs me far more than I need her at this point.

Getting a job and supporting myself through my last year of college would not be ideal, but let’s face it, it wouldn’t be the worst thing ever not to be under my mother’s thumb.  Even if sacrifices needed to be made, it would all work out.

 Morgan walks into the room wrapped in her robe with her hair wrapped in a towel.  She’s smiling as she dances her way across the room to the closet to choose her clothing.  The anger that was seeping through me moments ago is easily shoved back into the vault.  I’m eager to start finding joy in this life of emptiness that my parents have built for me.  I’m ready to embrace life and truly experience it, and I’m starting now, even if it is just a silly afternoon outing with my best friend.  With a smile, I hop off the bed and take my turn in the bathroom getting ready for today.