8. Just Don’t Be Shy
Chapter 8
Just Don’t Be Shy
I spend the next couple of hours repeatedly answering the same questions.
“What have you been up to?” Working.
“Are you going to go back to school?” Haven’t thought about it.
“How’s the leg?” Fine.
“If you’re not going back to school, what are you going to do?” I… I…
I seem to be the only person in the room who didn’t finish college. The only person who didn’t end up in the field they’d planned to. The only person who hasn’t achieved, or isn’t actively working towards, their dream. Maybe coming back was a mistake.
I take advantage of the turned heads when Sam cuts his hand, and escape the interrogation. As I’m pouring whiskey into a clear plastic cup, I hear a familiar, dangerous voice behind me.
“Nick.” I turn to see my ex-girlfriend, Kenna, her lips as red as her dyed hair. She stands close enough that I see right down her dress, and her sweet perfume takes me back to all the nights we spent entwined.
“Kenna.”
“How are you doing?” She puts her hand on my forearm and rubs circles on my skin with her thumb.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “I’m doing good. You?”
“I’ve been better. I got laid off from the job I started just a few months ago.”
“Sorry to hear that.” I take a long drink and savor the burn.
She cocks her head to the side. “Are you?”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” I need to get away before she sinks her teeth into me.
“We didn’t exactly end things on good terms.”
“Well, you cheated on me,” I state, matter of factly.
“Look, neither of us was in a good place then. Now we are.” She bats her eyelashes at me, a flirty gleam sparkling in her brown eyes.
“Okay…” I draw the word out, unsure of where she’s going with this.
She runs her long, black fingernails down my arm before wrapping her hand around my wrist. “So… let's talk.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Her tongue drips with venom as she asks, “Why not?”
I want to say, ‘ Because I’ll always feel as if I’m holding you back. Because I’m still not in a good place. Because I still don’t know what I’m doing with my life after two years. Because I doubt I’ll ever trust you again. ’ But I don’t.
Instead, I say, “I don’t know. Maybe. I gotta go.” I pull my arm out of her grasp once again, my heart threatening to beat itself to death.
I need some fresh air, but we’re too close to Houston and the closest thing I’ll get is thick and murky. Stepping around her, I escape to the balcony, and stand off to the side where the stone wall hides me from view of the windows. I hold a deep breath of the cool night air in my lungs until it burns, then exhale my frustrations.
I need to learn how to be around them all. How to keep myself in check and not let my jealousy of people like Sam consume me. How to be around people who got to keep their scholarships even though they had money to pay for tuition. People who could have made it to the NFL, but threw it away for a job with daddy . People who continued their lives at school and went on to graduate after my world was flipped upside down. People who have a plan for their life.
I need to learn how to deal with hearing news like, “Coach Resinski signed with the Dolphins.” The coach who kicked me off the ladder before setting the ladder on fire. I know he was simply doing his job. But doing his job is how he rose to the top while I lay writhing at the bottom.
I haven’t thought about my future since my injury, and even then, I couldn’t consider a future without football. I was going to heal and train, get myself back in shape and back on the field before the next football season. When that didn’t happen, I succumbed to my heartbreak, and like someone who writes off relationships to protect his heart, forced myself to work jobs I couldn’t care less about. Before life could throw me around again, I’d leave and work somewhere else for a while. Get a change of scenery before the fear of commitment set in.
Now that I’m back here among all these teachers, accountants, and engineers, I want that. I want to be someone. I want to be excited about something again. I want to care again. Have a goal and accomplish milestones towards that goal.
But I don’t know how to make that happen.
When the door opens, I expect it’s Kenna, having followed me out here to invade my solitude. Instead, it’s Cori. I watch inquisitively as she steps up to the railing and closes her eyes, allowing the chill to soothe her red cheeks.
“So, who are you hiding from?”
Her head whips toward me and her hand goes to her heart. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was out here.” She talks around something in her mouth, a cough drop maybe, or piece of candy. “I’m not really hiding from anyone. Or, maybe I’m hiding from everyone.” She shakes her head and carefully rubs one of her eyes. “I just needed a moment.”
I nod in understanding, and we both turn our heads to the courtyard beyond the rail. The smell of rain from a drizzle lingers in the air, along with something floral that I think might be Cori. I take another deep, healing breath.
The rumble of thunder has us both looking at the sky, hoping the rain holds off until we’re ready to face the crowd inside on our own terms.
“Wait. Are you hiding from someone?” she asks, turning to face me.
“Originally, from my ex. But I guess my answer is kind of the same as yours.”
“Who is your ex?”
“Kenna Armstrong. She has red hair and a black dress on.”
Something flashes in her eyes. Disappointment maybe. “Oh. Yeah, I met her.”
My body tenses out of defensiveness, but not for Kenna. “What did she say to you?”
She crosses her arms and shoots an irritated look my way. “Nothing much different than what you said the other night. About me not talking much.”
“Why does that bother you? Like I said, it was just an observation.”
“I know.” Another simple answer, a dead end to the conversation. Until she closes her eyes again and breathes before adding, “It’s just that I hear it so often. ‘ You’re so shy, why are you so shy? You don’t talk, why don’t you talk?’” she says, tone lifted mockingly. “I have many insecurities. Being shy is my greatest one.”
“So, just don’t be shy. Fake it ’til you make it, or whatever. Do something crazy to get over the fear.”
She turns on me so fast I jolt backward, but the fury in her eyes vanishes as she meets my gaze, and whatever words she wishes to hurl at me die on her tongue. She looks away.
“Say it. Whatever it was you wanted to say to me just now, say it.” I get the feeling I’m not the first person she’s wanted to hurl that anger at.
But she doesn’t. She stares off into the distance, guards up and defenses ready, quiet as the night around us.
The door opens then. Sam steps out, shaking his head at us both and crossing his arms.
“Are you hiding?” he asks Cori.
“Maybe.” She turns her back to him and he sighs before looking at me.
“And what are you doing?”
I decide to follow Cori’s example and give him partial honesty. “Maybe hiding too.”
“Why? It’s your birthday.” He points inside. “These are your friends.”
“At one point, yeah. I haven’t seen or talked to most of these people in two years. And why the hell would you invite Kenna?” But I forgot. He wouldn’t have known what happened between Kenna and me because I left town and moved my stuff out before I had a chance to explain anything.
“Why wouldn’t I? She was friends with all of us in college. And, I don’t know, I kind of figured you two could reconnect and get back together. You should be thanking me and begging her for her forgiveness.”
“She cheated on me,” I say quickly, not wanting the words to linger on my tongue. I want them out in the open as fast as possible so we can move on from this conversation.
His expression softens, his mouth opening and shutting a few times before a response comes to him. “Oh, shit. I thought you broke up because you left town without telling anyone.”
“I left town without telling anyone after I found out she had slept with someone else.” And I left for many reasons, the main one being that I needed space from everyone, like I did when I came out onto this patio. Space to breathe and get my mind off of what I’d lost.
Sam steps closer to me and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know.”
I run my hands down my face. “It’s not just her, though. Everyone treated me differently after Coach kicked me off the team. You included. Callum wouldn’t stop asking if I’d eaten or slept, Tyler could only give me advice about not letting it get me down. And you avoided me.”
When guilt and shame should soften his features, he turns it all back on me. “What the hell was I supposed to say to you? I didn’t know how to be around you without accidentally rubbing it in your face that I could still play.”
I turn towards the rail, bracing my hands on the black wood.
“What is this, I thought you were in a better place?”
I thought so, too. It’s easy to stand strong when the winds aren’t blowing. I guess, over the last two years, I forgot what the winds felt like.
I face him once again and dismissively shake my head. “I’m just tired. I let my emotions get to me.”
“Well, get some coffee. The night is still young.” He turns to Cori. “As for you, are you done overreacting?”
She remains with her back to us for so long, that I begin to wonder if she heard him. Finally, she looks over her shoulder and nods, and we all go back inside.
* * *
I t’s better the second time I make a round through the room. Tyler pulls me into a group with some old friends of ours and informs me that Kenna left. With her absence and the freedom to catch up without having to watch my back, I start to enjoy myself. The What are you doing with your life type questions transform into Remember when stories , and it’s as if the balcony never happened.
Cori still looks miserable being dragged around by Sam, but perks up when Tyler makes me recount the story of the hurricane that flooded the city our sophomore year. Everything was shut down because no one could get anywhere. Even our street had about three feet or so of water. So we got a trash can lid, tied it to the back of Sam’s truck, and water sled down the street. And we had a blast doing it until someone called the cops on us.
“Were you all drunk?” Cori asks.
All four of us, Tyler, Callum, Sam, and me, answer simultaneously, “No, why?”
“So, just stupid, then.”
Too soon, the party starts to thin and a woman with lavender hair walks up to Cori to ask if she’s staying or ready to order a ride.
“Are you Cori’s roommate?” I ask her.
“Yep. Her roommate, her twin, her coworker.” Twin? I look at Cori’s face, then back at her twin , apparently. I don’t see an ounce of resemblance among Cori’s round face and hooded eyes, and her sister’s pointy chin and cheerful demeanor.
“My name’s Sage. And we’re fraternal twins, no different from siblings other than we shared the womb at the same time,” she explains, noting the confusion on my face.
“I can drive you guys home if you want, so you don’t have to pay someone,” Callum offers.
Sam wraps his arms around Cori, practically begging her to stay the night and she relents, though she doesn’t look too happy at the idea.
Callum, appearing hesitant to be alone with Sage, bravely takes her home, and Sam goes to bed. Despite her protests, Tyler and I help Cori clean up.
“It’s your birthday, you shouldn’t be cleaning up after your own party,” she says.
“If I help, we’ll get it done faster,” I respond. Same thing I said about her tire.
After an hour of combined effort, the apartment is mostly back to normal and we all collapse on the couch.
Tyler puts his foot in Cori’s lap and says, “Foot massage, please.”
“Ew.” Her face scrunches in disgust as she pushes on his leg.
“Do y’all mind if I just crash here on the couch?” Tyler’s gaze flicks between me and her.
“No, but you’re using sheets this time. And a blanket,” Cori answers, sternly pointing her finger at him.
He sighs. “If I must.”
“Okay, I have to know, what’s the story with the sheets?” I ask.
“He takes his clothes off in his sleep. All of them. And I’d prefer if his bare ass didn’t touch the very couch I sit on. Or, other body parts.”
I look over at the shameless, almost proud, grin on his face. “How have I known you for as long as I have and didn’t know that about you? How did I live with you and not know this?”
“I always had my own room. Plus, I usually go to bed naked, since I wake up that way anyway.” He shrugs. “I’m a hot sleeper. The blanket probably won’t do any good.”
Cori groans.