All In

12. June 2001

Chapter twelve

June 2001

The Shed

Sam

M aria didn’t show.

Over a year has passed, and the memory of that day still lingers, haunting me. April 2nd, 2000. I waited in Bistro 1845 for three hours. The hardest thing was deciding to leave, fully aware she wouldn’t be coming. I lost her again, and the ache in my chest became unbearable.

As soon as I walked through my front door, I felt an overwhelming urge to write her a letter, and so I did. I knew there had to be some sort of reasonable explanation for why she stood me up. Her letters sounded so hopeful and full of excitement at the idea of seeing me again. I mailed that letter and a letter every week for two months … with no reply.

I have no clue what happened. Time has passed, but the ache remains fresh, more than a year later. Thousands of questions plague me.

Why did she change her mind?

Did Nate find out about our writing to each other?

Has she finally moved on?

I eventually decided that I had to stop torturing myself, and it took me the entire summer and fall to clear my head of what happened. To let her go … a third time. In the new year, Cara and I reconnected and started dating again, until she took a job in California. I can’t blame her for leaving the area. Saying goodbye to her was difficult, and the allure she holds over me will always be there. She was a pleasant distraction from the hurt.

But now I understand I need to concentrate on my future. Move forward. Which is what I’m doing. I recently got my master’s in science, which gets me one step closer to becoming a psychologist. I have also applied to doctorate programs. Amazingly enough, three accepted me. Ohio State, University of Michigan, and Georgia State. Who would have thought that I would go from a grocery store manager to a PhD student? Certainly not me.

Big C’s excitement about Georgia is over the top, and he is really pushing for me to accept there. Who knows where I will end up? More than anything, I wanted Maria to be the first to hear this news. The letters I sent to her never made their way back to me. Which means her mom must still live in the same house.

So many times, after she stood me up, I thought about driving over there to fight for her.

But I didn’t.

The desire to see her faded and morphed into a need to talk to her and share with her things about my life. Nighttime was the worst. That’s when she would only exist in my occasional thoughts and linger in my dreams.

Gradually, I sensed the door to my heart closing. But not completely. Maria will always be able to open that door. Also, I kept the same promise to myself.

I haven’t shed a tear for her.

And I won’t.

“So, when can I get your room ready at my place?” Big C asks me as he saddles up next to Ricky. He’s in town visiting. I’m at Dexter’s with both of them, blowing off some steam on a Friday night. Just like old times, except Big C is on our side of the bar.

Before I can answer, Miles, the bar manager, races over to say hi. “Big C! Nice to see you, man!” They grab hands and lean into each other for a semi-bro-hug above the slick, lacquered bar. “We are slammed tonight. I could use you! ”

Big C lets out a hearty laugh. “No way, man. My days of slinging pints are over. I just want to hang with these two losers tonight,” he says as he waves his finger between Ricky and me.

Miles shrugs. “Suit yourself. Nice to see you again, though.” He points to us. “If you fellas need anything, let me know. In the meantime, the first shot is on me.” Before I know it, three shot glasses filled with whiskey materialize in front of us. As we raise the glasses, the scent of alcohol wafts into the air. “To new beginnings,” I say and down the amber-colored liquid as the burn coats my throat.

Ricky’s eyes lock on mine, filled with excitement. He turns to Big C. “Cool! So you told him.” Big C winces and lowers his head. Ricky turns back to me, his inquisitive eyes searching for answers. “I’m impressed! You’re taking it better than I thought you would.”

I look at my two friends with their two different reactions to what Ricky said. I pause, taken aback. “Told … uh … told me what?”

“You know, about Maria”—just hearing her name stirs my curiosity—“ and tomorrow,” Ricky retorts as if I should know what he’s talking about.

As I sit here, my bewildered expression must be apparent because Ricky mirrors my confusion, realizing finally we aren’t on the same page. I peer past Ricky and catch a glimpse of Big C, his eyes fixed straight ahead, his jaw clenched. “Dude, what’s going on? Is Maria okay?”

“Maria’s great,” he replies, without bothering to make eye contact. “She’s getting married.” As he turns his attention to me, I notice a slight crease forming on his forehead. “Tomorrow.”

The blood drains from my face. Heat rises to my head, and the usual Dexter’s commotion fades to black. My unanswered questions from the past year are now getting resolved with those three words. ‘She’s getting married.’ It explains everything. Why she didn’t show. Why she stopped writing. Why she never answered any of my letters.

More than likely, Nate proposed that night at the Cavs’ game. What other explanation could there be?

“Dude, you look pale,” Ricky says.

I stare down at the bar, my throat tightening as I struggle to find the words. “How … um … how do you know?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse Big C reaching into his back pocket and retrieving a folded-up newspaper clipping. He tosses it my way, and I watch as it glides effortlessly down the bar, slipping past Ricky. I quickly halt it with a firm hand. I hold it, feeling the weight of curiosity with what I know lies inside. A thick tension hangs in the air. With Big C’s and Ricky’s unwavering focus, they wait for me to make a move.

“We were going to tell you tonight,” Big C starts. “The plan was to get a few beers in you first, you know, to soften the blow. Maybe make it hurt less.”

We remain silent, creating a palpable tension in the atmosphere. My head pounds against my skull, the thumping rhythm blending with the boisterous bar noise.

Finally, after a few minutes, Ricky speaks. “Are you going to read it?”

I nod, but before I open it, I turn to my two closest friends and a surge of gratitude for their unwavering support. However, I need to be by myself. “I think I need to read it alone.”

They both nod and turn on their bar stools. I don’t feel Ricky’s presence anymore, more than likely disappearing into the crowd. Big C’s imposing figure stands only a few feet away, allowing me the space I asked for, yet watching.

The newspaper clipping crinkles as I unfold it. My fingers graze over the raised lettering on the paper that has started to yellow. It’s only half of a full sheet, the edges uneven from this portion being ripped from the rest. As soon as I look at it, my eyes lock onto the clearly displayed date at the top. It’s from two weeks ago.

How long has Big C hung onto this?

I shake the thought from my mind because it doesn’t matter.

I turn it over and staring back at me is still, to this day, the most beautiful woman.

My Maria.

But in this black and white newspaper photo, she isn’t mine. She belongs to Nate. Both of them are smiling ear to ear, leaning into one another. Maria’s left hand is resting on Nate’s chest, and on her third finger rests the biggest diamond ring I have ever seen.

They look perfect. The All-American couple. Pristine, polished … and engaged.

Before I read the announcement, I flag down Miles. He sets a beer in front of me. I take a long swig and begin to read.

Bryant - Connelly

Lily and John Bryant of Youngstown, Ohio, are pleased to announce the engagement of their daughter, Maria Lynn Bryant, to Nathanial James Connelly, son of local businessman Roger Connelly and his wife, Rosemary Connelly.

Maria is a student at Ohio Northeastern, where she is studying exercise science. She is currently employed as an EKG technician at St. Augustine’s Hospital.

Nathaniel received his bachelor’s degree in engineering from Ohio Northeastern and is currently employed at his father’s manufacturing firm, R&R Conn.

The wedding will take place on June 9th at Riverside Garden in Madison Creek Park, with an invitation-only reception to be held at Avon Grand Pavilion.

I lower the article as I hang my head. The loneliness I felt, first when she left me for Chad and then when she didn’t show at Bistro 1845, is back with a vengeance. The sea of unanswered questions I have seems to stretch out endlessly .

I will not let her take the easy way out again.

Hell, at least I got a letter last time .

She doesn’t get to shut me out without at least an explanation. I ball the newspaper up in my hand and slam it down on the bar. With determination, I yank my wallet out of my back pocket, fish out a ten-dollar bill, and toss it on the bar as I stand. Big C must be able to read minds because he stomps over to me, knowing what I’m about to do.

“Sam, don’t do it,” he says. He grabs my arm as I try to walk past him.

“Let me go, C.”

“I can’t do that.” His grip tightens.

We stand face to face, and I know I’m no match for his massive frame and strength. So, I appeal to his humanity. “What if it was Jasmine?” I ask. He doesn’t answer right away. Without warning, his expression softens to one of understanding and his grip loosens.

“Fine, but I’m going with you and driving.” He lets go of the vice grip he had on my arm. “Where’s Ricky?” We glance around the bar, he's saddled up against the back wall, chalking up a pool cue, talking to a beautiful woman.

“RICKY!” Big C’s booming voice pulsates through the loud bar, and Ricky looks in our direction. He salutes us and nods.

He knows where I’m going and what I need to do.

With that, I make my way out of Dexter’s and into the night.

On my way to Maria.

I obviously haven’t thought this through because I have no clue where Maria could be. I’m assuming since it’s the night before her wedding, there must have been a rehearsal dinner. But where … no idea. I also don’t know where she is living since my letters went to her mom’s house. Is she living with Nate or on her own, maybe?

God, what am I doing?

So, I direct Big C to the only likely place she can be .

Her mother’s.

Big C pulls up alongside the curb in front of the house. Through the windows, the soft glow of lights is visible, and a row of cars sits parked in the driveway. But is she here? I scan the cars and another realization floods my brain … I don’t know what she drives. It dawns on me how little I know about her current life, yet no one knows her better.

I’m in a really weird head space right now.

Big C and I both sit and stare at the split level for longer than we need to. He glances at me, waiting for me to do or say something. “Her old bedroom window is at the back of the house,” I start. “Maybe I should go check it out?” I look to C for validation—or permission—I’m not sure honestly.

“If they call the cops on you for trespassing, then I am out of here, and you are on your own. Got it?”

I nod in acknowledgement. “Otherwise, good luck. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

I open the car door as it creaks on its hinges. The warm night air hits me in the face as I race up the walkway, crouching down like a thief, looking around to make sure no one is watching. I make it to the shrubs that line the side of the house and round the corner to the backyard. I look up to find her window and, sure enough, the light is on. YES!

The craziest thought pops into my head, and I can’t believe I am about to do this. As I search the ground for a pebble, I shake my head in disbelief at what my life has become.

Because I am actually going to throw pebbles at her window. Like I’m in a freaking movie.

It’s my only option because I am not about to knock on the front door.

With a handful of pebbles in my hand, I position myself so that I’m not too far away. I was in baseball in high school, so my aim is decent enough. As I stare up at the window, the white sheer curtain that always hung there is a cruel reminder of the past.

Alright, here goes nothing. I throw my arm back and heave a pebble at the glass .

Tink.

I wait. Nothing.

I toss another one.

Tink.

Nothing.

I try again.

Tink.

This time, I decide to wait and see if anything happens. I look around to the darkened back yards that surround me, making sure none of the neighbors are watching. My breaths are heavy with adrenaline. I look down at my palm and stare at the two pebbles I have left, turning them as I think.

If she doesn’t answer after these two, I will walk away. Forever.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I throw my arm back and toss the next pebble with a little more force this time.

TINK.

Finally, the curtain shifts, and my stomach erupts with nerves. A silhouette comes into view, so I take a few steps backward. The curtains open, followed by the window, and it’s her.

She balances herself with her hands on the window seal. “Sam?”

I can’t help but smile because, my God, this actually worked. And she looks stunning. I haven’t seen her since Dexter’s. She never changes.

“What in the world are you doing?” she yells down in a whisper.

“Maria, please come outside so we can talk.”

“Sam, I can’t,” she looks at her ring. “I’m getting married tomorrow.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here. Please,” I plead, “you owe me an explanation.”

Looking down at me, her eyebrows pinch together. “You’re right. I do. Give me five minutes and meet me in the shed. It’s unlocked.” With that, she shuts the window and disappears.

I turn around and make my way to the shed that rests at the back of the yard. With a shaking hand, I grab the handle to the door, and it creaks open. On heavy feet, I step in, and the smell of grass and mildew assaults my nose. I know exactly where the light is, so I look ahead and the string hangs from the light bulb on the ceiling. I tug it, and light fills the space. It looks the exact same from what I remember. And it’s the memories that are making me unsteady on my feet. This used to be Maria’s and my make-out spot. We would sneak in here sometimes … okay, a lot of times … and with roaming hormonal teenage hands, we would get lost in each other.

The sound of her approaching pulls me from my thoughts. She steps in and closes the door behind her, immediately filling the small space with a thick humidity. I watch her every movement and try to memorize it all since I don’t know if this will be the last time I see her. Her hair is in a high ponytail, she’s wearing a white t-shirt and navy-blue pajama shorts, no make-up. She’s never looked more beautiful.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been in here.” It comes out rough and husky. I know she is thinking about the past just as much as me.

A sly smile creeps on her face, and her cheeks turn pink. “Those were some good times.”

We both stand there glancing around the space, trying not to look at one another. Neither of us sure where to start. Since I’m the one that showed up at her window, I guess I should say something.

“What happened, Maria?” I ask, the question coming out in a whisper. “Please tell me the truth.”

She looks down at the steel floor, not wanting to make eye contact.

She shakes her head and turns on her heels. “I can’t do this.” But before she walks away, I grab her wrist and pull her to me. Under my grasp is the watch I gave her.

She still wears it.

I wipe the thought from my head as my hands land on her arms, and I hold her tightly, but not too tight. Inches separate us, tears begin rolling down her cheeks.

“Fine. You don’t have to tell me because I think I already know. But I have a few things to say.” She nods, and I let go of my grasp. With a sniff, she uses her hand to hastily brush away her tears. “Don’t do this, Maria. Please don’t. I love you and I know you love me.” She sucks in a breath as her eyes pierce me, full of pain, her brows furrowed.

“Sam, please don’t,” she begs. Her hands betray her request and land on my arms. Her grip tightens, not letting go, even though she knows she should.

“Don’t what? Tell the truth?” Memories of us in this shed flood my mind, and I want to recreate every one of those moments. This is only the second time I have held her since The Chad letter. All I want to do is kiss her within an inch of her life and show her how much I love her.

But I won’t. That doesn’t stop our foreheads from coming together like magnets. Our breathing is getting heavier.

“Don’t marry him,” I whisper. “Marry me.” I do not know where that came from, but it’s how I feel. It’s what I want. Her head whips back, and I find myself under the scrutiny of her piercing eyes.

“Sam, I can’t—”

“Yes, you—”

“No. I can’t.” With determination, she shoves me away and steps backward toward the door. My arms suddenly feel empty. I put my hands in my pockets to stop myself from reaching out to her again. “My parents are finally in a good place, Sam. Financially.” She swallows hard, taking her time to gather up with the right words.

This is excruciating.

“Plus, Nate’s dad just gave my dad a huge promotion and a raise to help, in spite of his disability.” She pauses again. “Nate loves me, Sam.”

“Not as much as me.” My body rises from confidence in my statement.

“But he does. And I can’t hurt him.”

What did she just say?

My jaw is on the floor.

I huff out a breath and turn my eyes toward the ceiling. “So, you can’t hurt him, but you had no problem hurting me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she retorts as she reaches out to me, sensing her statement hurt me. I step back, hitting my legs on a bicycle behind me .

Neither of us speak for a few minutes. She takes this as her cue to leave and turns, grabbing the handle to the door. “Do you love him?” I blurt out, not ready for this reunion to end.

She pauses, not answering me, so I continue. “You said he loves you, but you didn’t mention if you love him.”

She turns, drawing her attention back to me. She’s picking at her nails. “It’s not about being in love with him.”

“Oh, really ? Because last I checked, people should be in love when they get married, Maria. How is that fair to him? How can you marry someone you aren’t in love with? Please, make it make sense.”

“It’s everything!” she shouts, causing me to flinch at her outburst. She paces in the little floor space she has beneath her feet. Four steps up. Four steps back, still going to town on her nails. “It’s my parents spending way too much money on this wedding when they are just getting back on track. It’s my dad working for his dad. Mr. Connelly would fire him, Sam. It’s about Nate and how this would look for him—”

I hold up my hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” She stops pacing and stares at me, motionless. I take a deep breath to steady myself and get my anger under control. “How would this look for him ? Did you seriously just say that? Is any of this about you, Maria, and what you want? Any of it?”

Her eyes drop again as she wraps her arms around herself, seeking a sense of security. “It’s complicated.”

“Famous last words.”

The silence returns to this humid box, neither of us knowing what to say or what will happen next. My brain is racing with a million thoughts. It’s obvious where her head is, but I need to know if I can reach her heart. I’m not ready to give up on us. Not here in our shed.

Without a second to think, I rush, grab her by the waist, and pull her toward me. She lets out a yelp but doesn’t resist. Her eyes immediately land on mine, and her arms wrap around me. “Maria, what do you want? Right here, right now, in our shed, in my arms.” We are both panting. “What. Do. You. Want?” She doesn’t answer, biting her lower lip in contemplation .

I decide to continue because she needs to know the truth. “Because I can tell you what I want. You. Every day, all day. You, in my life. You, with my ring on your finger. You, waking up next to me every morning. You, carrying my children.” She lets out a gasp, and the tears return, spilling over her lashes, landing on her cheek in a silent cry. “Only you.” I wipe away her tears with my thumb and cradle her face in my palm. Her skin is both cold from the tears and warm from the heat in this shed.

God, I want to kiss her so badly. But I won’t cross that line. She belongs to someone else. “Maria, this isn’t about me. This isn’t about Nate or your parents. Choose yourself. Choose us. ” I plead with her. I beg. “ Please. ”

Time seems to stand still as I wait for her answer.

Suddenly, though, her body answers for her as she goes rigid and stiff. Her hands slowly make their way to my chest, and with a gentle touch, she pushes. I uncoil my arms from her waist as the realization of her decision comes into clear focus, and we both take a step back. The heat is now replaced with a cold, chilly distance.

“I know you won’t understand, Sam. But I can’t be selfish with this. Too many people are involved. And I do love you, Sam. I do.” The tears are now pouring down her cheeks, unstoppable. “So much it hurts. What I want more than anything is to leave this shed with you and start the life we talked about years ago. But I can’t.” She pauses, trying to collect her thoughts. “I’ll always remember us. I’ll never forget.” She brings her hand to her mouth and sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

With that, she turns around and slams right into the shed door before stepping back, opening it, and running out into the night.

I fight it. I fight it harder than I have fought anything.

I swallow the tears.

My God. What kind of hold do these people have over her? Or is this Maria just being the people pleaser she is?

It’s clear that I won’t receive answers to these questions in the near future. Which sucks .

Stepping out of the shed, I roll my shoulders and try to get myself together as I retrace my steps back towards Big C’s car. He watches me approach. With each slow and heavy step, regret weighs down on my heart. As I reach for the door handle and before I get in, I turn to look at the house one last time.

I. Am. Done.

With a burst of energy, I yank open the car door and throw myself inside, slamming it shut as the vehicle rocks from the force.

“Didn’t go well?” Big C asks as he turns the ignition, the engine roaring to life. He pulls the gearshift into drive, and the car lurches forward. We drive down the road when I answer.

“You can get my room ready.” His head whips in my direction.

“I’m coming to Georgia.”