The Late Bloomer

Chapter 18

At the time Beau broke up with me, I was devastated. He was everything to me. Everyone on social media was posting “If there is ever a friend who listens and understands, never let that friend go.” Well, in this case, letting go hadn’t been my choice.

Could you really love someone who didn’t love you? Was I just in love with the idea of being in love? I thought our friendship would last for forever. It’s not like we fought. I made sure of that. I was agreeable and said yes to anything he wanted.

He was my best friend. I had given up all my other friends to hang out with him and make sure I agreed to any activity he wanted to do. I wasn’t a doormat, but I wanted to be with him. I sacrificed personal time and hobbies to hang with him. For a long time, I couldn’t get over it or him. I poured myself out for him. I gave him the best I had. It wasn’t enough.

Cross-legged, I sat with the book in my lap and read a chapter on relationship etiquette. I wasn’t sure I was ready to know what I did wrong. I wasn’t sure I could even correct it.

Late bloomers had a lot of baggage. I struggled letting friends go, especially guy friends. Why was that?

In the painful recesses of my heart was a story so sensitive, that if I could see through my rib cage, I would see a dark stain, a mushy spot on my heart, like bruised apple—puckered, sickly, and festering. I didn’t want to think about how the bruise got there, or if I could heal it. If it were up to me, I’d take a small paring knife and cut it away. Who needed a whole heart anyway?

I tried to not think about it, pretend it wasn’t there, but after Beau’s behavior at each meeting of the service club, I realized I needed to face it. I needed to get it all out, to lance a festering wound.

Junior high. I’d just discovered boys. Like any other girl, I wanted to be loved. To feel like someone wanted to be around me, hold my books for me, wait for me after class. I wanted to be able to express those feelings deep down inside me that were just longing to come out: love and admiration.

Kaleb Morrisey was the hottest guy in my grade. Taller than the rest of the boys, he stood out. He projected a confidence that was rare in eighth grade, maybe it was because he was good at sports or because he dated a cheerleader. Other girls liked him, too. I know because I heard them whispering about him in the girls’ bathroom and saw how they talked about him, calling him the Makeout King.

I just knew he was a good kisser. I’d daydream about him kissing me. Taking me in his arms and stroking my hair like they did in the movies before pressing his lips on me and kissing me until I passed out from lack of oxygen.

He knew who I was. At least I think he did, I sat behind him in English and stared at his perfect hair.

I wrote about my obsession in my journal, stupid entries of my wanting, desire based totally on myself, what I wanted, what I yearned for. I let my feeling flow in free writing. It was just a spiral bound notebook, like many of the others I had in school, and I accidentally grabbed it and brought it to school in my backpack. Which would’ve been fine except my used-to-be best friend, Carrie, grabbed it and started reading it and then blabbed to the whole class about it. It wasn’t long until everyone in eighth grade knew I wanted Kaleb to kiss me.

Even Kaleb found out. And I’m guessing that’s why he changed schedules because he no longer sat in front of me in English. I remember in Health class talking about the difference between flirting and harassment.

He told the teacher he felt harassed. She said I was lucky I wasn’t taken to court over the journal entries. I went home in shame and tears and threw my notebook into the fireplace and lit a couple of matches and let it burn until the whole day was branded into my heart. It was easier not to feel, to ignore all the whispers and the sideways glances, the snickers. And the loss of a friend. And the loss of a dream. And the loss of emotion. It was easier to feel nothing than to feel loss, shame, hurt. Whatever was lurking in that rotten part of my heart. High school was a way to start fresh.

Everyone forgot about my journal over the summer, more important things were going on, summer camps, sports, vacations. I was lucky that no one remembered my journal or me. Especially not Kaleb who moved over the summer. They said his dad got a job in Houston, but no one was sure if it was a requested transfer or not.

But a part of my innocence died. I kept my heart well guarded, but those feelings were still in there somewhere. Just not acknowledged. To anyone on the outside, it looked like I was over it. The embarrassing blip in middle school. It was a part of life. Part of growing up. Part of becoming who you are. I wanted to forget it by ignoring it.

Beau’s parents had split in high school, and his dad had come to the city and was quite successful. He used to work at the used car lot in Honeyvale but now owned the BMW shop in north Tucson.

I tried to figure out why Beau disliked me so much. Why he was so mean to me. While Marie and I readied to go to the gala at his dad’s showroom, we talked about it.

I blow-dried my hair. “I can’t believe I’m paying fifty bucks to see someone else win Beau’s car.”

“You’re paying fifty bucks to support charity. And to get a free meal,” Marie said. “Catered dinner.”

I snorted.

It wasn’t a real dress-up deal. I just had black slacks and a sparkly top. I mean, how dressed up should one get for a car showroom?

“I wish there was a section in the book on dealing with ex-boyfriends or other undesirables.”

Marie finished her lip stain and capped it. “Well, let’s check and see if there is. We haven’t gone through all the chapters for communication yet.”

She flipped through while I nervously twittered in front of the mirror, shifting my weight on my feet. This would be my first time out in high heels. I wasn’t feeling very confident.

“Ah-ha! Here. Communication chapter never lets me down. Section three, Chapter Ten: Persuasion and Argumentation: How to deal with people who don’t agree with you.”

“It’s not that he disagrees with me…” To me it was more like he had a chip on his shoulder. Like even though he dumped me, he still had to keep me from liking myself. As if he wanted to retain in power in our fractured relationship somehow.

Marie shrugged her shoulders. “You’re awesome. He disagrees.”

I flipped down the toilet lid and listened while she sat on the edge of the tub and read to me.

“‘Conflict often arises when two people want the same goal but have different means to get there, or when two people have a differing point of view.’”

“Okay,” I said, still unconvinced that Beau and I had a differing point of view. He was acting like a jerk, and I ignored him. We read silently until my bum was sore from sitting on the lid.

“What are we going to practice tonight?” I asked.

“Good conflict resolution skills.”

“Great.” I flashed a thumbs-up and a tight smile.

“Do not let Beau provoke you in any way.”

“I’ll try.”

I was hoping to catch a ride with Marie since Lisa and Larry were spending more time together, and he was picking her up. Kat said she was hiking Antelope Canyon this weekend.

“Brett coming?”

“He’s picking me up.” A shy smile crossed her pink lips. “And Gable?”

Turning away, I shrugged. “There’s a concert tonight. I didn’t want to have to make him choose.” Though we still texted regularly, we hadn’t been out together or seen each other for a while. Maybe I was just a NCMO.

“I wish I didn’t have to go and witness his moment of triumph. You don’t mind if I catch a ride with you and Brett?”

“No problem.”

The BMW showroom was up north, set up on a hill somewhere. The new building with tall windows all around showed off the impressive inventory. Multicolored lights lit up the showroom. Balloons littered the floor and clung to the ceiling, like a giant bottle of colored cupcake sprinkles. Music thundered in our ears before reaching the glass doors.

Along the back wall were long tables filled with lunch meats and rolls. A sinking feeling hit my gut. Why did I think I could win the competition and raise more money than these people? They were so well connected. They started out with money from their parents and other supporters. My throat constricted. We stood in a long line waiting to get in.

I only bought one ticket. “How many tickets did they sell?” I whispered to Marie.

“Let’s ask.”

Tia, Beau’s girlfriend, was checking tickets as people came in. “How many did you sell?”

“Over five hundred,” she said, her smile huge.

“That’s over twenty-five grand,” Larry shouted behind me. “We’re going to lose.”

“You’ll jinx us,” Marie said. “We could still win.”

“With a great big miracle,” Lisa said.

“Okay, so it’s a little bit harder to win when the competition is good, but not impossible,” I said. “Don’t lose hope. They have to subtract the costs.”

But I didn’t feel so optimistic. Beau in his deep purple shirt and tie was talking to the news crew. Showing them where the raffle tickets would be called out.

Electronics and jewelry filled one whole table. “Looks like they’re going to build the excitement with smaller drawings.”

“Yay!” I said. Five hundred people. Were they all going to be here tonight? “Do you have to be present to win?”

“No,” a voice behind us said. Tia grinned, jangling her bracelets around her skinny arms. “He’s filming it, and he’s recording live because some people won’t be able to make it. A lot more tickets were sold online. Plus people want to hear who the winner is.”

I barely raised my brows. “Seems like a lot of hoopla!”

“It’s a big deal,” Tia said, a hint of something other than admiration in her voice. “Beau has been working so hard on this.”

“What did the rest of the committee do?”

“This was Beau’s brain-child, he wanted to control of every aspect of this.” Tia turned away to help other people.

“Nice,” Brett said under his breath when we were away from Tia. “He’s all about helping people, but he doesn’t let anyone else help out.”

I shook my head, watching the scores of people pour into the showroom. “So he can take all the credit. I’ve known Beau most of my life. He’s not a nice person. He shouldn’t be the one who wins this. I hope we can pull off something better.”

Brett raised his brows. “We’ll see, won’t we.”

“And people are still buying tickets at the door,” Marie said glancing at the doorway where people were filling out names on the cards provided, dropping in cash, running credit cards through readers.

Larry smoothed his sweater vest. “We won’t be able to win.”

“Let’s be optimistic.” I squinted through the crowd, trying to locate my nemesis.

Beau stood at the top of a flight of metal stairs. Behind him a huge screen nearly filled the wall. A camera trained on his face. Beau’s features plastered a ten by seven-foot screen, all smiles at his venture.

I wanted to puke.

He clapped his hands. “Before we begin tonight’s adventure, I hope you were all able to see the car.”

In the middle of the room, surrounded by crowds of people holding drinks and wearing mini skirts, was the BMW series F9 M50.

I didn’t even want to go near the thing. Marie took a little peek, but was loyal to our cause. I was beginning to think I’d wasted my money, listening to Beau talk about the needs of the program while a video played behind him. Yawn, eye roll. I scanned the crowd.

Lincoln stood near Beau’s dad, speaking with him, his arm around McKenna’s waist. He had to come to all of these things since he was the president.

McKenna wore a resplendent mini skirt with red sequins. Her long silky hair draped over her naked shoulders in gentle curls. She looked a lot better than the last time I’d seen her.

Lincoln caught me staring at them and raised his eyebrows to me in greeting.

I blushed for some reason and tilted my chin upwards in acknowledgement.

He mouthed something to me.

I furrowed my brows to indicate I’d missed it.

“Where’s Gable?” He mouthed more exaggerated this time.

I finally caught it. I shrugged, shaking my head dismissively. Gable was at a concert with his music friends. I was sure he didn’t want to pay fifty bucks to go to a hoity-toity event like this.

Lincoln mimicked my shrug, and then went back to listening to whatever Beau’s dad was saying. Feeling the loss of the security of having someone by my side, I searched for Marie, who along with Brett, ducked to get a view inside the car.

I had no hopes of winning the car. I wandered around the milling people who ate the sumptuous display of catered food until Beau announced the entertainment for the night. Then I heard the laughter.

I glanced up to the big screen and there, in full HD-glory was a picture of me with Gertie—a picture taken from the Future Farmers of America yearbook page my sixth-grade year.

Gabby the Goat Girl filled the screen.

The horror of the moment numbed me as I stared in shock. There I was with a big grin, in my awkward stage when I had funky hair and teeth too large for my mouth. Several pimples poked through my skin, but my eyes were bright and happy.

The ground opened beneath me. Not only did my stomach drop, the whole room disappeared from view. All I could see was my tween self with Gertie.

“Oops, not sure how that got in there. It’s supposed to be this.” Animation of a car someone jumping up and down, winning while colorful enveloped the screen. Confetti flew everywhere. Flashing lights covered the floor.

But the damage was done. Everything I’d worked hard to build, ruined in a flash of a picture. Around me, the film crews relayed the image all over the Internet on all the live channels Beau posted.

I glanced at Lincoln. His mouth was open. Surely he now thought I was an idiot. He had seen my true self.

Marie reached out to me, but I blew her off and pivoted out of there. I hit the glass doors, opening them so fast, I feared they would break. I tore off toward the parking lot, not seeing, not caring where I was going.

A few paces outside, I heard my name. At first I thought it was Marie running after me, but I heard footsteps and the voice closer—a man’s voice.

“Gabby, wait.”

I didn’t stop until he snatched my elbow, halting me.

I whirled to stand face to face with Lincoln. Tears stung my eyes, blurring his face. I glanced down, too embarrassed to face him.

“Why is Beau out to get you?”

Instead of glancing up, I stared at the weeds growing in the cracks of the pavement. “We went to the same high school.”

“What is he afraid of?”

I glanced up. “What?”

“I’ve never seen a man so insecure before.”

“Insecure?” All these years, I’d thought Beau the most secure person. His dad worked at the right company, he wore the right clothes, but this was no longer high school.

“He must be afraid of losing. Why else would he go through all the trouble to annoy you?”

I couldn’t confess we’d dated. It was too humiliating to admit he’d dumped me. But I needed to tell Lincoln something. Anything but the truth.

“He totally made up the whole goat thing.” I never wanted him to know about how I’d gone to elementary school wearing light-colored clothes because if I wore dark colors, all the goat hairs were visible. People wouldn’t sit with me at lunch afraid to have goat hairs fall in their food. They said I smelled like goat.

“That was a rotten thing to do.” Lincoln paced in front of me.

“I know, right? Beau is delusional. He will do anything to win. Even make up stuff about my background.” My gut twisted at my lie. It was only a small one. And completely necessary. Lincoln couldn’t know about my past.

“He’ll get what he deserves.”

“I’m sure.” My mind still whirred with my lie. What if Lincoln ever found out?

“I hate it when people lie. It’s so fake, and I cannot stand fakes. That’s what I like about you. You’re genuine.”

“Thank you.” But really I wanted to change the subject or puke, whichever would get me out of this awkward conversation faster.

He chuckled, looking behind him to the tall building. “You know when I was a kid, I had the crazy nickname of ‘Lincoln Logs.’”

“No way.”

He faced me. “When I was in grade school, we lived in a small shack while my dad got his MBA in Boston. My mom worked as a schoolteacher, and we lived off of loans. We may be well-off now, but we were poor then.”

“I had no idea.” I collapsed onto the cement parking curb.

“People assume how we are now is how we will always be and how we’ve always been, but it’s just not so.”

“That strangely makes me feel better. I mean Beau makes things up, but at least I didn’t have a terrible nickname.” The lie burned on my tongue.

He sat next to me, his shoulders touching mine.

Now to change the subject. “So, if your family is from back East, why did you come to UA?”

Lincoln stretched out his long legs, crossing them casually across his ankles. “Dad always wanted me to take over the business when I graduated with an MBA, but I didn’t want to.”

“What do you want to do? Teach women how to cook?”

“Yeah, sort of. I want to take my non-profit national. But to do that takes money. Money my dad won’t give me.”

“Why not? He has plenty doesn’t he?”

“Oh, yes, but he wants me to learn how to do it myself.” He squinted in the setting sun.

“Makes sense, I guess. It’s harder.”

He plucked at a weed growing between the cracked blacktop. “Yes, he believes it’s the path which makes us stronger. Not the destination. But what he has given me is an opportunity to meet lots of people who do have money.”

“Oh yeah?”

“My parents host a charity ball. All of my dad’s friends will be there. If I could tell them what I’m doing, show them my program is making a difference, I might be able to have them sponsor me and my ideas.”

I turned toward him, grabbing his shoulder. “Wait, not the charity ball. THE charity ball? Your dad runs the national charity?”

“Yes.” Lincoln looked a little embarrassed. “I didn’t want to tell you. Now you know how connected my family is.”

“So, what’s holding you back? You don’t have to win a contest to talk to your dad.”

“No. I could call him anytime, but I’m not like you, Gabby.”

“Me?” I literally choked on that.

“You’re so good with people, you’re a communication expert. You know how to get people talking, and I wish I had those kinds of skills. Right now, if I went to that party, I’d make a fool of myself trying to tell my dad’s friends all about what I do.”

“That’s because the purpose of conversation is to entertain, not to instruct.”

Lincoln laughed. “See? You even know what I’m doing wrong. And I hope you can help me fix it. If we win, will you come with me? And teach me how to be so conversant? If you come with me and help me, I’m sure we can get donors.”

I was Gabby the Goat Girl. Beau just proved it couldn’t be shaken. “I’m sure McKenna would be a better fit.”

“McKenna.” Lincoln bowed his head. “Yeah, she’s a strong girl.”

I wished I hadn’t even brought her up. A long awkward pause ensued.

Lincoln tossed pebbles. “To answer your original question, I came to UA because it was a university far away from my parents. I thought if I could get away, I could be my own person. Dad wanted me to go to his alma mater back East, but I’m glad I came here. I met you. I would love to learn everything about you, see where you lived, where you grew up.”

“You wouldn’t want to see my house.” It was like a hundred-year-old muddy adobe house. Then, in the seventies, the previous owners built on to it with cinder blocks. It was horrid. There was no grass in the yard, just a patch of dirt with green weeds growing. The grass was for the goats. “We have some property in the country. A couple of acres.” For the goats. But I was pretty sure he would get a different image in his mind. It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the truth.

“Well, I hope you won’t be ashamed of how my family lives then. Just a half-acre lot east of the Potomac River.”

“Not at all.” I gulped.

“If your group wins, I’ll have to take you to my house, as long as you promise you won’t make fun of it.”

“I promise.” My heart raced.

“I hope you win.”

“Me, too.” I glanced up to the dealership. I didn’t have a ride home and couldn’t leave.

He glanced over his shoulder at the building, all lit up and now pulsing with music. “You don’t want to go back in, do you?”

“No.” Even though the pavement didn’t steam like usual, the sun still glared down on us, even in winter.

“I don’t blame you. Did you get anything to eat?”

“I wasn’t there long enough to even sample some of the catering I paid all that money for.”

“How ‘bout we run and grab some tacos, and then I can take you home.”

“What about McKenna?”

“I’ll come back for her.” He tilted his head.

We crossed the parking lot to his car. He unlocked the door, and I slid in, feeling way too comfortable. He had a girlfriend. A really hot, beautiful girlfriend. And I had an almost-boyfriend. But we were just friends.

We drove to a little mom-and-pop taco shop with a drive-thru that Lincoln promised had the best tacos in town and snarfed tacos.

“Best part about living in the southwest, real Mexican food.” He held up his taco. “Where I come from, people think Taco Yell is good.”

I nearly choked on my corn tortilla.

“Watch this.” He spread hot sauce over a taco and ate it in two bites.

I laughed, spilling cheese all over my lap. “I’m so sorry.” I plucked at the pieces, tossing them back in my wrapper/plate. “Thanks for the tacos and the pep talk.”

He shrugged. “That’s what friends are for.”

Oh, yes. Friends. He dropped me off at our apartment complex. I was about to close the door when he called, “We’ll have to get together to count up Beau’s receipts.”

“When?” I ducked down to see inside his car.

“Friday?”

“Friday works for me.” I flashed a thumbs-up.

He glanced distractedly through the windshield at the girls in bikinis at the pool. “You’re not going to be out with Gable, are you?”

Gable. I had forgotten about him. “No, we’ve kind of drifted apart.”

Lincoln’s face fell. He glanced at me, his eyes full of earnest. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

I shrugged. “We didn’t have anything in common.”

Lincoln nodded like he understood. “Are you seeing the other man from the shop?”

What other man? I nearly died! “Oh, that guy?” I shook my head. “I just gave him a cookie. I didn’t want to lose my train of thought talking to you.” The lies were stacking up.

“Uh-huh.” His shoulders relaxed. “Working on your super-secret project, then?”

“If I could tell you I would. See you Friday?”

“Friday.” He grinned and put his car into gear.