It Was Me (16 page)

THIRTY THREE

“What are you telling me, West?” Coach Child's voice was calm.

I drummed my fingers on the kitchen table. “What I'm saying is that I need a couple more days.”

“Look, I understand you're sort of in flux right now. Waiting on Ms. Sellers.”

He'd called and left another voice mail, letting me know he'd spoken with my probation officer and that he'd gotten the all-clear he'd needed. I'd been up front with the scout from the U about my record and all they'd needed was confirmation from my probation officer that my record was clean. Now they needed the paperwork from me to start the scholarship process. And I hadn't mailed it in.

I'd told him some bullshit story, that Abby was still working out the financial aspects of the transfer and that I wanted to be sure she could get it straightened out before signing off.  I hated lying to him but I wasn't about to tell him the truth.

“But here's the deal,” he said. “We need to move on this. The money is there for you—guaranteed. But the financial side has to be taken care of. We've got you scheduled to be out here in less than a month. We might be working our asses off here in the athletic department but I'm pretty sure snails are in charge over in finance and admissions. I don't want anything screwing up your eligibility. Not only to play and attend classes but to get the money we promised you.”

“I appreciate that, sir.” My knee bounced liked a jack hammer. “Can I let you know by Friday?”

It was Monday. Two days after I'd seen Abby on her doorstep and two days after my conversation with Tana. Two days where my phone had stayed silent and I'd racked my brain, trying to think of what might be going on with the girl I loved and how I could figure it all out. Two days of feeling frustrated and angry and lonely. Two days of trying to figure out just what the fuck I was going to do if Tana was all wrong about how Abby felt. If I was all wrong.

“Friday?” he snorted. “Sorry, son. We're gonna need to know sooner than that.”

I swallowed. “Okay. I'll see what I can do. I'll be in touch.”

“Wednesday,” he said. “Preferably tomorrow. But if she doesn't know by then, you're going to need to make some tough decisions.” The phone went dead.

I tossed my new cell phone on the table and it clattered against the wood.

“Hey. Don't go breaking that one, too.” Griffin stepped out of his room. He wore board shorts and no shirt, tufts of blond hair sticking out from his head like little horns.

He eased himself into the chair next to me. “Any news?”

“Yeah. I've got two days.”

“Two days?”

“Two days to decide what the fuck I'm gonna do.”

“About Abby? She give you a deadline or something?”

“No, dipshit. About school. Arizona.”

He nodded. “Ah. That. What's there to decide, man?”

“Whether or not I'm going to go.”

He rolled his eyes. “You're going.”

“I dunno.” I reached for the phone and spun it.

“What don't you know?” Griffin rubbed at his hair, finding the horns and patting them down. “You got a full ride, dude. A chance to play ball. It's a no-brainer.”

I hated hearing those words. They were the exact words Abby had spoken to me in the casita when I'd told her about my meeting with Coach Childs.

But it hadn't been a no-brainer. Not then, when I worried about what would happen to us if she was in San Diego and I moved to Arizona. And it wasn't one now, when I didn't know what was going on with her or where I stood.

“You gonna be around today?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. Going in to work.” I glanced at the clock. “Shit. In an hour.” I hadn't showered in days.

He didn't say anything so I asked, “Why?”

“No big deal,” he said. “I have a couple guys coming by to check out the place. Roommate kind of thing.”

My knee bounced a little faster. “Right. Okay.”

“I'm not gonna cancel them,” Griffin said.

“I'm not asking you to.”

“Because you're going. To Arizona. Even if I have to drag your ass across the state line. You're going. I'm not gonna let you fuck this up.”

I rolled my eyes but I didn't say anything. Regardless of how I was feeling, I knew he was right. I didn't want to go without Abby but, if I was being honest with myself, I knew this was the chance of a lifetime. It was the second chance I'd wanted after losing the scholarship to Stanford. That particular fiasco had been out of my control—I only had dear old fucking dad to thank for that. I felt the muscles in my jaw begin to twitch. I hadn't spoken to him in almost two years. Not after he'd emptied my savings account and not after he'd been accused and later convicted of embezzling even more money from the investment firm he worked for. And I'd never forgiven him.

But if I walked away from this opportunity? If I called Coach Childs back and told him I wasn't coming?

I'd only have myself to blame.

THIRTY FOUR

I'd missed work.

“You feeling better?” Patrick asked. He was another one of the coaches at the academy. Late-twenties, probably, with thinning hair and the beginnings of a beer belly visible under his academy-issued polo.

“Yeah,” I said, feeling a little bad about faking being sick the last few days.

He nodded. “Good. The kids missed you.”

I believed him. After spending a week on vacation and then missing another week by calling out sick, it had been ages since I'd seen them. They bombarded me with questions and tripped over themselves to show me how much they'd improved since I'd last been there.

“Vacation was good?” he asked. We were in one of the indoor batting cages, collecting balls.

“Yep. Hot but good.” I hadn't said a word about the open try-outs. And I hadn't said a word about the U.

“And Abby?” He'd met her a couple of times, if we'd decided to carpool and she'd pick me up or drop me off at work. It hadn't happened often but there had been enough times where their paths had crossed enough to say hello and make small conversation.

“She's fine.” It was another thing I hadn't said a word about.

He picked up a full bucket and hauled it to the side of the cage. “Anything new with you guys?”

I almost laughed. “Nope. Same old, same old.”

He grinned. “Welcome to married life, man. Sarah and I are going on five years now. Nothing ever happens. Changes.”

I'd never met his wife; she was some executive at the Union Tribune and worked ungodly hours. Patrick and I weren't close but he shared a little about his personal life. He was an assistant coach at a local high school, making peanuts during the school year. This was his second summer at the academy and he was hoping to go full-time, make his way into management. So far, it wasn't looking good, as there wasn't much turnover. I knew he wanted kids, wanted to start a family, but Sarah had him permanently on hold, it seemed.

I started tossing more balls into the empty bucket he brought over. “She still busy with work?”

“When is she not?” He shook his head. “Lives and breathes it, man.”

I nodded. That was how my dad had been with work. Always gone. Never around. Of course, we hadn't known that his late nights at work were really nights spent at the casino in Lakeside.

He moved to another batting cage and I followed.

“You and Abby planning on getting married?” he asked. He was bent over, picking up balls. “Not right now. I know you guys are still young. But you thinking about it?”

“No.” My tone was abrupt.

“Good,” he said. “Not that she isn't a nice girl,” he said, quickly. “But you guys are young. Don't want to see you doing what I did. Settling.”

I wouldn't have been settling with Abby. She was everything I wanted.

He straightened, pulling his cargo shorts higher on his hips. “Alright, man. Think we got 'em all.”

He picked up one bucket and I grabbed the other. We set them behind the netting and then grabbed the bats that were strewn around and racked those. I grabbed a few loose gloves that were left behind and tossed them in a box next to the ball buckets. We unplugged all of the ball machines and wheeled them to the corner. I checked to make sure the radar guns were off and followed Patrick down the hall toward the tiny room that housed the coaches lockers. I grabbed my keys from my mini-locker and shoved my wallet into the back pocket of my shorts. Patrick had done the same and he hit the lights before closing the staff room door.

“So,” he said. “Wanna grab something to eat? Or you have plans with your woman?”

“Nah, no plans,” I said. I wasn't terribly hungry but I felt bad for Patrick. I knew what would be waiting for him at home. An empty house. And it wasn't like I was heading home to anyone, either.

He pushed the door open and the sunshine was blinding. I immediately covered my eyes with my hands, shielding them.

“Huh,” Patrick said. He pointed toward the sidewalk. “Looks like maybe you do have plans.”

I turned my head. To him, it looked like Abby standing there, waiting for me. Dark hair pulled into a pony tail, white cami and short black shorts, sunglasses hiding her eyes.

He was right about one thing. The girl was definitely waiting for me.

But it wasn't Abby.

THIRTY FIVE

“What the hell do you want?”

Annika's red lips pouted. “Is that any way to greet me?”

I could think of a dozen better ways, all of them including violence, but I kept my mouth shut.

“What do you want?” I repeated.

She crossed her arms over her chest. She looked so much like Abby and yet so different. The mannerisms were the same but hers were more pronounced, filled with haughtiness, oozing with attitude. “I want to talk.”

“You didn't have much to say when I came by last week,” I reminded her.

“I know,” she admitted.

I stared at her for a minute, waiting. I couldn't see her eyes but I was pretty sure she was looking everywhere except at me. I sighed in disgust and turned away, back toward my truck. I didn't want to waste any more time on her.

“Wait.”

“Nope. Done waiting.”

“I came to tell you what's wrong with Abby.”

I stopped walking but I didn't turn around. No one had offered me that. Not Abby, not her dad, not even her best friend.

“You want to know, don't you?” she asked.

I pivoted so I was facing her. The breeze played with her ponytail, loose strands whipping across her cheeks.

“Why?” I asked.

“Why what?”

“Why are you going to tell me?” I asked. “Why now?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Because I think you deserve to know.”

“And why should I believe anything you tell me?” I took a step closer to her. “Why the fuck should I listen to you about anything?”

I could see her stiffen but she didn't back away. “Because no one else is talking to you,” she said evenly.

She had me there.

She lifted her sunglasses and that look was there, the same look I'd seen in her eyes when I'd stopped by with the brownies. Worry. Fear.

“Tell me.”

She looked around. “Really? On some sidewalk in Clairemont?” She shook her head. “No. It's gonna take more time than that.”

“Fine. Where?”

“We could go to your apartment
—”

I cut her off. “No. Not now. Not ever.” The memory of her coming to my apartment nearly a year ago, pretending to be Abby, was still seared in my mind. I never wanted her there again.

Her cheeks flushed a little and she shuffled her feet, clearly uneasy. “Okay. Fine. Zanzibar? We can grab a cup of coffee.”

Zanzibar was a coffee shop on Garnet. Abby and I had spent countless mornings and afternoons there. Drinking coffee. Studying. It was our go-to place when we needed to get things done. There were no distractions like showers or beds to tumble into. It was the second to last place I wanted to go with her twin sister.

But I didn't want to say no because, like it or not, I wanted to hear what she had to say. I needed to hear it.

I nodded. “I'll meet you down there.” I turned back around, fishing my keys out of my pocket as I made my way toward the parking lot.

“Hey, West?” she called after me.

I looked at her over my shoulder.

“It's not good news. Just so you know.”

THIRTY SIX

I circled the block a couple of times, looking for a place to park on Garnet. I slid into a spot a block away and made my way back up the street towards the coffee shop. The sidewalks were filled with tourists sporting sunburned noses, bogged down with bags from all the local shops. I'd spent years anticipating the end of summer, when the tourists would leave and PB would go back to some semblance of normal.

I pulled open the doors to Zanzibar and the coffee aroma hit me like a freight train. Most of the tables were full, the ones by the window housing a couple of familiar faces. I nodded at them before heading toward the back of the shop.

Annika was already seated at a table, a tumbler of iced coffee in front of her.

And Abby was with her.

I felt my heart trip a little as I stared at them. Abby was oblivious to me, staring at the steaming mug of coffee in front of her, slowly stirring the red plastic coffee stirrer. She only drank hot coffee, never iced, not even on the hottest of summer days.

It had only been a few days since I'd seen her but it felt like forever. A mix of emotions battered me, anger and hope and love all colliding inside of me. I took a steadying breath and moved toward the table.

Annika caught my eye and smiled. I watched, almost as if in slow-motion, as Abby's head lifted and her eyes followed Annika's gaze. She froze when she saw me.

“Hey,” I said as I approached the table.

She flushed a deep red. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” I said, sliding into one of the empty chairs. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I'm with my sister,” she said, her voice condescending. “She asked me to meet her here.”

“Huh,” I said. “Weird. Because she asked me to do the same thing.”

Abby's eyes shot daggers at her sister but Annika just smiled.

“Look, someone has to cut through the shit and get the two of you talking,” she said. She sipped her coffee. “And I know I haven't exactly been the biggest Abby and West cheerleader, but you're driving me crazy.” She stared at her sister so there was no doubt who she was talking about.

Abby muttered something under her breath.

“You can cuss me out all you want,” Annika said. “You already hate me.”

“I don't hate you,” Abby said.

Annika shrugged. “Maybe not. But you don't exactly like me. I figured I had the least to lose by forcing you two to see each other.” She picked up her tumbler and stood.

“Where are you going?” her sister asked.

“Home.”

Abby made a move to stand but Annika stared pointedly at her. “If you don't tell him, I will. And that's a promise.”

Abby paled and her sister smiled and left.

I drummed my fingers on the table and watched her. She looked nervous, like a deer caught in the headlights, ready to jump up and run. It broke my heart and pissed me off that she was acting that way with me.

“So,” I said.

She continued to stare into her coffee.

“Look, if you don't want to talk, that's fine,” I said. “I didn't come here for the silent treatment.”

“I know. You came here for my sister.” She looked up and glared at me. “Looking for a replacement already, huh?”

“That's bullshit and you know it,” I said.

She didn't say anything.

“I came here because your sister said she would tell me what was going on with you. I don't give a flying fuck about her. You know that.”

Her cheeks reddened a little and I could see I was getting to her.

“I'm not here to try to win you back, Abs. The last thing I want is to be with someone who doesn't want to be with me. But I just wanna know what happened. That's it. Tell me and I'll go. I won't bother you again.”

They were the hardest words I'd ever had to say but I meant them. I missed her and I still loved her like crazy but I'd realized something during my conversation with Patrick. I didn't want to end up like him. I didn't want to be with someone who couldn't make time for me. Who couldn't make me a priority. I'd always thought Abby was it for me. But if she wasn't? I needed to grieve and be pissed off for a while, no doubt. But then I needed to lick my wounds and get back in the game. And I couldn't do that until I knew what the hell had gone wrong.

She sighed and brought the cup to her lips. She took a sip, holding it in her mouth before swallowing it down.

I leaned back in my chair and waited, my fingers still lightly tapping the surface of the wood table. It was a nervous habit and I tried to still my hand but I couldn't.

“My mom,” she finally said.

I frowned. “What about your mom?”

“It's my mom.” Her voice broke and she looked away.

I thought back to the time at the casita. Her mom had been one of my biggest cheerleaders. She'd been just as excited about the news from the university as Abby's dad had been. And, later, when we'd talked about Abby coming with me, she'd been the staunch supporter. Not Mr. Sellers.

Her voice was so soft, I almost didn't hear her. “She has cancer.”

My eyebrows shot up. “What?”

She nodded. “Breast cancer. They...they found a lump last month” She spoke rapidly now, the words tumbling out. “Annika and I... we didn't know. They didn't tell us. She had a lumpectomy. But it had spread. Stage 2.”

“Aw, shit,” I said. “I'm sorry, Abby.”

She nodded. “I know. Me, too.”

Her eyes filled with tears and I wanted nothing more than to slide my chair next to her and gather her in my arms. But I couldn't. Because I wasn't sure how she would react.

“So, what's the next step?” I asked.

“Radiation and chemo. She starts tomorrow.”

I nodded. “And...and the prognosis?”

“I don't know. The doctors are optimistic. But they always are, you know?”

I didn't know. No one close to me had ever been sick. I'd always been a unit of three. Me, my dad and my mom. And even though my dad was in prison and my mom had left shortly after, divorcing him and moving back to Austin, we'd always been healthy. Dysfunctional as hell, but healthy. None of my friends from school had dealt with sick parents. The closest I'd ever come to someone with a grave illness had been my 11
th
grade physics teacher who was diagnosed with ALS at the beginning of the school year. Nine months later, Mrs. Marcus was in a motorized scooter, her legs frozen from the disease that would eventually take her life one year later.

So cancer was a new thing for me. I didn't know anything about what Stage 2 cancer meant or how doctors would be. But I wanted to find out. For Abby.

“I'm sorry,” I said again, keeping my eyes on her. “How can I help? What can I do?”

It wasn't about me or us anymore. I didn't want to try to fix things between us right at that moment. I just wanted to help her.

“Nothing,” she said.

I frowned.

She shook her head. “Actually, I take that back. There is something you can do.”

I waited.

“You can go to Arizona. The sooner, the better.”