28. Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
I find myself feeling jealous of Lana and Mateo more than once over the next couple of weeks. While I’m grateful to be dating Brooks now, after we’ve had years to grow and mature into adulthood, Lana had some definite perks dating Mateo in college. Like getting to see each other multiple times a week at Arrow events, soccer games, and official dates.
Adulting is for the birds. What I’d really like to do is hang out with Brooks all day every day. Too bad he has to spend his days teaching and evenings studying. Not to mention almost every single one of my evenings is taken up with Arrow events and Bible studies. A fact that has never really bothered me before now, considering my extreme extroversion and night owl tendencies.
But now, it means I barely get to see Brooks outside of small group on Wednesdays. Well, okay, and on our weekend date nights. And sitting by each other at church. Maybe lunch after church. And video calling occasionally.
But it’s not enough!
Every second I spend with him only makes me crave more seconds, every second.
Then again, I recognize this as one of the early symptoms of how I let my identity get so wrapped up in him back in high school. And I swore to Logan that I was mature enough not to repeat that behavior.
So, I’m making a concerted effort to deny at least some of the times I impulsively want to text him. And not create extra reasons to see him. Instead, I make time to get coffee with Joy and grab lunch with the other girls from small group. I even initiate an evening to relax at home with Gina instead of going our separate ways to campus.
Another idea pops into my head.
I haven’t seen you in a while! Would you want to come to the Arrow meeting tonight for old time’s sake?
BAILEY
omg, that would be so fun. I’ve thought about coming some Thursday but didn’t want to be the awkward old person crashing the meeting.
Whatever! You should come any time you want to! You still fit right in with the college crowd wink emoji
BAILEY
Ok, I’ll meet you there!
The rest of the day is a blur, as Thursdays always are, but I find myself legitimately looking forward to seeing Bailey tonight. It’s such an evolution from our college days.
I’m in the lobby of the student union greeting people as they arrive when Bailey walks in. I wave her over, and she gives me a hug and a sincere smile.
“Talk about a blast from the past. I feel like I’m back in college again!” she exclaims. “Does it ever feel like you never left?”
“It kinda does sometimes,” I admit. “Which is fun some days and slightly weird others. How’s your week been?”
“Good! I really feel like I’m getting a handle on the job,” Bailey says. “Of course, I was finally in the swing of things with the soccer team just in time for their season to end. But now we’re neck-deep in basketball season, and I’ll feel more prepared for the women’s soccer team this spring. It’s a fun challenge to tailor nutrition based on the athletes’ specific needs.”
“Bailey? Is that you?” Rachel’s voice gets louder as she walks toward us. “It’s so great to see you!” she says as she gives Bailey a hug.
“You too!” Bailey replies. “I’m back in town working with the athletic department, and Teegan invited me to come to the old stomping grounds tonight!”
Rachel gives me a surprised but encouraging look. I guess she was not as oblivious to the tension between Bailey and the Beefs as we thought she was.
“I’m so glad she did! I should stick you up on stage to emcee announcements for old time’s sake,” Rachel teases.
“Goodness, no!” Bailey laughs. “Where’s the After Party tonight?”
“Heading to Mom’s Diner for late-night breakfast food,” I reply.
“A classic,” Bailey says with a smile.
“Teegan is still the queen of After Party planning,” Rachel says. “I seriously don’t know what we would do without her.”
There’s a meaningful tone to her statement that cuts like a knife. And not a painless scalpel. A very dull knife, where you feel every excruciating millisecond of the cut.
My skin starts to feel itchy, my breath too tight.
“Oh, anyone could do it!” I say. I gesture with too-large hand movements. “I love planning social events, but it’s not an exclusive talent.”
Bailey gives me a weird look. Because I’m acting weird.
“Why don’t we go in and find a seat? We can grab a place close to the TriAlphas, if you want,” I redirect, pulling Bailey into the meeting room. Away from Rachel and the awkward undercurrents that will drag me under if I don’t escape now.
“What was that about?” Bailey asks under her breath.
“What was what? Not sure what you mean!” I whisper as we take seats.
“Uh-huh. Sure,” Bailey replies, one eyebrow raised.
I’m saved from responding by the worship band inviting everyone to stand, the loud music canceling out any opportunity to continue the conversation.
My mind wanders throughout the meeting. I know I should tell Kent and Rachel that I’m considering other options for next year. That I’m possibly leaning toward not returning to Arrow staff. Strongly leaning.
But they’ll be so disappointed in me! They’ll think I’m a quitter, that I’m giving up on such an amazing opportunity to have a spiritual impact on students. I don’t want them to think less of me. Or to think I’m just getting bored. This isn’t a boring job! I don’t want them to take it personally, to think I don’t like working with them.
Ugh. There are so many potential adverse outcomes to this conversation.
I’m not sure what Kent is sharing in his message because I’m too busy feeling trapped by catastrophic what-ifs. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to take full breaths as my thoughts churn around worst-case scenarios.
I close my eyes, letting my body sprout wings and climb above the clouds. I’m flying away, over the ocean, heading toward a beautiful sunset. Drifting away from the discomfort.
How long can I keep flying away?
When the meeting ends, I introduce Bailey to several girls, although she already knows the TriAlphas. I can tell that Bailey’s emotional tank is filling up by being here and reliving her college days, and I realize how happy it makes me to see Bailey happy.
We sit with a huge group of sorority girls at Mom’s Diner, regaling them with stories from our “good ol’ days” in AOPi and TriAlpha. I go out of my way to emphasize how great of a leader Bailey was because, when I set aside our petty, immature rivalry, it’s the honest truth. Bailey was a great leader in TriAlpha and in Townsend’s Greek system in general.
The crowd thins the later it gets, but Bailey and I linger there, sharing memories and a cinnamon roll. “So, why were you acting so weird earlier when Rachel talked about you being the After Party Queen? It’s not like that’s news to anyone,” Bailey says.
I take a quick mental inventory of my options. Play this off and bypass talking about my unknown future, or be honest about why it made me so uncomfortable.
Sighing, I settle on the honest option and speak in a low tone. “I haven’t really talked about this with anyone outside of Lana, Amaya, and Brooks, especially not Rachel or Kent. But I’m thinking about not coming back to Arrow staff next year.”
Bailey raises one eyebrow but gently nods. “What’s making you consider a change? ”
I blow out a breath. “It’s not that I don’t love the job. Because I do. And I know it fits within how God has wired and gifted me.” I chew my lip before continuing. “There’s this growing sense inside me that this might not be the only thing God gifted me for. A curiosity to explore something new. Well, kind of new, kind of old—to go back and give teaching a real chance. But I’m not sure how to make the decision.”
Bailey’s head is nodding with understanding, not skepticism, which feels encouraging. “You’re certainly suited to the full-time college ministry life, but that doesn’t mean it’s the end-all be-all. Clearly our situations are different, but choosing to make a change and move back to Brooklyn has been exactly what I needed in this season. Maybe it won’t be forever, but for right now, I’m enjoying my job. And I’ve loved connecting with you, Lana, and Amaya—even your other small group friends I met at your birthday party. Brooklyn feels a lot like home for now, and it’s been healing in ways I don’t think I would have found in Texas or California. So, don’t be afraid to make a change if you think that’s what God is leading you to do. I’m always here to be a sounding board if you need it.”
“Bailey, I’m really glad you came to Arrow tonight. And really glad you moved back to Brooklyn. I’m so grateful to have another chance to be your friend,” I tell her. “I can’t tell you how encouraging it’s been to have you as a listening ear to talk to about life and Arrow stuff. Especially since you understand everything but aren’t caught up in the middle of it.”
Bailey’s smile is warm when she responds. “I’m really glad too, Teegan. While I wish I would have acted differently in college so we could have been better friends then, I’m glad we have the opportunity now.”
Despite having an enjoyable time with Bailey at the meeting and After Party, my body is buzzing with anxious energy when I get home. The logic of knowing that I should just talk to Kent and Rachel is outweighed by my flight response .
Nope. Don’t want to do that.
I decide to text Brooks instead, unsure if he’ll be awake at this late hour.
Hey there! Sorry if I wake you up. Was wondering if I could see you tomorrow after school?
I set my phone down on the nightstand and change into pajamas, trying to keep my hopes of him texting me back appropriately low. Who am I kidding? Even graded on a curve, I’d be getting an “F” in “success at keeping my hopes down.” That is, if checking my phone every other second is any indicator.
The longer my phone stays stubbornly silent, the more my heart sinks. I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth and finish getting ready for bed. Tucking myself under my pink comforter, I blow out a long breath. I can feel the deep frown curling my lips down, sulking that Brooks isn’t available to break me out of my spiral.
Super mature, Teegan. Better hope Logan doesn’t find out.
My phone pings, and my heart lurches at the sound. Propping myself up on my elbows, I eagerly unlock it, expecting a “Yes!” text from Brooks.
brOOKS
Sorry, tomorrow won’t work for me
My lungs slowly deflate, and my heart shrivels.
ok
Setting the phone down, I plop back on my bed and fight off tears. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Just don’t think about it, Teegan. Remember the puppy we saw on campus today? Think about the cute little puppy.
I’m failing miserably (again) in my attempt to redirect my thoughts when the phone suddenly rings, causing me to jump.
It’s Brooks.
“Hello?” I ask.
“Teeg, I’m sorry,” Brooks says, voice strained. “That was totally rude, and I’m sorry. Of course I’d like to see you. I just . . . I won’t be here tomorrow. ”
“Oh,” I answer, one part reassured and one part perplexed. “What do you mean, you won’t be here tomorrow?”
“I, ah, I . . .” Brooks trails off. I’m tempted to interject and lighten the tension, but something tells me to stay quiet.
“I’m driving home to KC tomorrow,” Brooks finally says. “It’s, um, tomorrow is the anniversary of . . .”
Understanding sinks in, strangling my heart. “Of your mom?” I finish for him, voice quiet.
“Yeah.”
We’re both silent for a beat, listening only to the sound of each other breathing.
“Can I come with you?” I ask. My voice is small because, realistically, I do not want to willingly walk into such a sad situation. Into such a painful memory.
But more than that, I don’t want Brooks walking into it alone. Not if I can be there with him.
“You don’t have to do that, Sneaks,” Brooks says. His voice is tender, appreciative. “I’ll be with my dad, with Steven and his wife, Julie. You don’t need to be there.”
“Brooks, I want to be there. With you. For your family. For your mom,” I assert before my voice cracks on the last word. I do want to be there, not only for Brooks, but for all of them. For Angela. To show her that I’m back, even in some abstract way.
“Are you sure?” Brooks asks. I know he’s trying to give me a way out, a way to avoid the sorrow. But I also hear the hope in his voice.
“Brooks, I’m with you. I want to be there.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. His voice is tight when he murmurs, “Thank you.”