This Much Is True (20 page)

“I was there.” I hang my head suddenly unable to look her in the eye. “Remember?” I told Kimberley this story. Part of it. She’ll put it together.

“What?” Kimberley gets this dazed look and starts shaking her head.

“I was there. At the accident on Valentine’s Day.”

“The accident. On Valentine’s Day. The girl you rescued? This is unbelievable. Now, you
look
like you’ve been stalking her…Oh Christ,
Prez
. It doesn’t look good. You
can’t
pursue this girl. It’s stalker material no matter how innocent your hook-up.” I flush at her harsh words. “She’s too young. She’s got her whole future ahead of her, and you have yours. She’s going to be a star ballerina. You’ve just been signed by a major-league baseball team. You can’t do this.”

“But Kimberley, I—”

“Don’t say
it
! Don’t. Even. Say It. Your baseball career is
on the line
. You cannot get involved with this girl. Your contract is done. The money is on its way. You’re a
brand
, baby. You have a
reputation
and a
baseball career
and a
future
with
Major League Baseball
. All of it is going just the way we thought it would. You’re going to be on the road six months or more out of the year for the next five; and she’s too young for you right now. Frankly, you need to stay away from Palo Alto and this girl for a long time
.
Thank God, you’ll be in Salt Lake and then L.A., and she’ll be in New York.” She gives me the
do-not-fuck-with-my-plans
unyielding look. “Listen to me. You’re going to be a star pitcher in the major leagues inside of a year or two or
sooner,
but
this story
would have legs because the good-looking baseball player screwed up or rather
screwed
the ballerina. You might get a pass. You might not. Public opinion could exalt you or crucify you, but it’s a huge risk either way. It’s your career we’re talking about here. It’s what you’ve worked for all these years. It’s what your dad worked for and wanted
for you
. It’s what you’ve wanted. You can’t throw it all away for this girl, Linc. You can’t.”

She takes a much-needed breath.

We both do.

“Go end it,” she says gently while she checks her watch. “I’m sorry. Her flight leaves in thirty-five minutes. You’ve got twelve.”

At that exact moment, Kimberley stops at a side door on the second floor off of SFI’s main terminal where an older, wizened security guard stands. She quickly flashes him her ID as well as her best, red-lipsticked smile and the guy lets her pass through within seconds. “Ms. Powers. Mr. Presley,” he says with a wide grin. “This way. She’s waiting.”

Tally stands at the far window gazing out at the runway. She turns when we enter the room.
God, she is so beautiful.
She has this expectant look on her face as soon as she sees me. She looks so happy and she smiles wide, but it quickly fades when she spies Kimberley, who judiciously goes over to her as if they’re old friends and re-introduces herself from last night’s engagement party celebration. Kimberley even hugs her tight for a moment or two before letting go.

I’m reeling by now. My mind races with the possibilities of what I should say and how I should say it.
This is fucked up. This whole thing.
I’m not sure I could even say what needs to said but then my dad’s disappointed face flashes through my mind and spurs me on in the next few precious seconds.

As Kimberley promised, she leaves the room within thirty seconds of re-introducing herself to Tally, but not before she says to me with true meaning, “Ten and half minutes, Prez. That’s it.”

Tally waits until the door clicks shut before she says anything else. “Who
was
that again?”

“That’s Kimberley Powers. She’s a good friend of mine.” I wince at the look on Tally’s face at the friend reference. “She was Elliott’s fiancée…She’s my publicist. She’s my dad’s publicist. And now she’s mine, too. She was my brother’s fiancée. Remember? I told you? She was Elliott’s…fiancée.”

“Elliott. Your brother. His fiancée.”

Tally seems to struggle with making the connection. I haven’t really told her very much about Elliott or my mom, but I can’t say anymore about it because the hazy threat of my own of panic attack—that used to happen years ago—starts to surface. I focus on breathing even as my throat goes dry. I can’t even swallow as all these competing emotions still try to take over. This feels all wrong on so many levels.

I sigh deep and run my hands through my hair and then shove my hands into the pockets of my pants as if that will somehow make this breakup thing with her any easier. This is impossibly hard and time ticks by at an alarming rate. I keep thinking about the utter feeling of loss in not being able to see her anymore or touch her or kiss her. Those are the only things I want to do now. Yet even now, I can’t do it. I shouldn’t do it. I shouldn’t
want
to do it, but I still do.

I take a deep breath and start again. “She’s my dad’s publicist. She’s mine, too, now. And, she’s right about—”

“Linc, what’s going on? They called my name over the loudspeaker, and that security guard escorted me
here
. Marla’s probably freaking out just about now because our flight leaves in less than a half hour. My parents and hers and even Charlie already left. And, you’re late.”

“Hey. I’m sorry. The photo session took forever and there were a few of the Angels’ coaches there to watch me pitch...”

“Oh,” Tally says and gets this sheepish look. “How’d that go?”

“Not as good as it should have. I didn’t throw my best pitches. I was worried about getting here on time. To see you off. To say…good-bye. ”

“You were worrying about me during your interviews and photo session? Huh.” She gets this vexed look. “And Kimberley
knows
about us.”

I nod. I’m stalled out and take another deep breath and pray for courage or bravado or something that would provide me a little backbone to say what needs to be said and just cut her loose.
Six minutes.
I try in vain to recall Kimberley’s exact words because they are the only ones that seem to make any sense to me. “Tally.”

Her head whips up at my serious tone. Her beautiful green eyes zero in on my face.

We are five feet apart, but it can be measured in miles in that instant because I feel the separation from her so severely. I’m pretty sure she’s feeling it, too.

“No.” That single word sounds like it whooshed from the deepest part of her soul.

“Kimberley thinks.” I stop. “It would look...” I take another breath. “We can’t be together. You’re seventeen. I’m twenty-two—almost twenty-three. It’s not good. I could lose everything if anyone were to find out about us.” I hang my head. “Besides your parents, me, Charlie, Marla, and now, Kimberley that we…were together.” I look over at her. “That we’ve been together. That we
were
together at all.”

She looks utterly stunned. Her throat moves slowly as if she’s attempting to swallow. It sounds like she’s having trouble getting air into her lungs. I am half-prepared for another panic attack. It has become our thing after all, but she gets this resigned look instead. She nods slowly as if the world has suddenly begun to make sense to her again. Her eyes glint with tears, but her voice is strangely steady and unemotional when she says, “Baseball’s your focus.”

It sounds rehearsed—almost rote—the way she says it. The moment is surreal as if it’s all happening in slow motion and not really taking place right in front of us at all.

“Yes. It always has been. Until now.”

She seems to weigh my answer after a moment. She cocks her head to one side and studies me for a few seconds. I almost thought she might laugh, but then she gets this steely look of resolve. “Sounds like it still is. Wow.” Her words sound hollow. Her hands tremble as she brings them up to her face and absently runs it through her long hair all the way to the ends of it. She’s worn it down because, at one point, I told her I liked it that way.

“Tally—”

“This. Is. Wow. Unexpected. Well, not really.” She tries to smiles, and her throat convulses a little. “I gave it a month.” Her smile disappears and then this incredible sadness traverses across her beautiful face.

This is what heartbreak looks like. I feel it. She epitomizes it. Right there.

She seems to wither away right in front of me and then she shrugs with unexpected nonchalance, clearly summoning up bravado from some place deep inside. “I gave it a month.”

She stops and takes a step back from me and smiles even wider. I miss the warning then of her true intent for absolute fury.
She isn’t done, far from it.

“You,” she says quietly. “
You
? You couldn’t even give it twenty-four hours. Yet
you
extorted a promise from me. And now?
You’ve
…stomped all over it with all this hand-wringing angst about your precious career and your fucking loyalty to
baseball
.”

I reach out to her then, intent on trying to save what we have by holding on to her in some vital way because in the next moment, I know she’s intent on destroying it, but she steps back from me.

We’re wasting precious time with anger and fury and hate. All three.
A part of me knows it’s the end of what we have. Yet I want to try to save it in any way I know how. Preserve the memory of us. I glance at my watch. We have four minutes left.

“I love you,” I say into the vast emptiness that threatens to engulf both of us, even as I grab for her hand. My words sound trivial, meaningless, and definitely arrive too late for these final moments.
This is what desperation feels like.

She shakes my hand off and laughs bitterly even as tears begin to stream down her face, and she steps farther back from me. Then she latches onto the hatred for me and essentially saves herself, even as it swiftly envelops and pierces my soul with her next words. “Go fuck yourself, Elvis.
Please
. Save it for someone older and wiser than
me
. Save it for
Nika
.”

She walks out the door before I have a chance to say anything else.

She’s gone. Gone forever, it seems.

I did this.

I made the choice for baseball instead of her.

And somehow, I’ll have to live with that truth if that’s at all possible.

“Well,” Kimberley says as soon as she sees me. “It appears that didn’t go any better than what went down on the baseball field today.”

Words desert me. I can’t think of a great comeback because she is absolutely right about everything. And, I did this. I made this choice. “You were—”

“Save it, Romeo. I just saved your career. Someday? You’ll thank me.”

“I was going to say you were right,” I say with a grimace. “I
should
thank you but I can’t, not today.”

“Cheer up, Linc. You’ll have a press conference with the Angels a few hours after we land in L.A., where you’ll announce your newly signed long-term deal, and your life will begin. Such as it is.” She searches my face.

Remorse. Regret. Guilt. It’s all here.

She gets this weird, little smile. “Get over it, Romeo.”

No sympathy from Kimberley Powers.

“You’re about to ascend to the big time,” she says. “Enjoy the ride. Our flight is in thirty minutes. Let’s get on board and get back to L.A. because soon enough you’ll be pitching a baseball and spending all that signing-bonus money on an apartment and a new life even if it is on the road. Oh.”She pauses for a long moment and stops in the middle of the stairwell that leads back to the main terminal and grins mischievously. “I
like
her. She’s awesome.
Sorry,”
Kimberley says upon spying the heartbreak that inadvertently travels across my face at what she’s said.
“Like I said in a couple of years,
maybe.”

“She hates me now.”

“Well, that’ll fade.” She looks me up and down. “I’d say you’re pretty much impossible for her to hate. You guys have quite the chemistry going. My God, I felt it between the two of you as soon as I walked into the room.”

One part of me wants to dislike Kimberley intensely for her cruel thoughtlessness in saying that aloud, but another part is weirdly cheered up at her candid assessment of my relationship with Tally---my
now non-existent
relationship with Tally.

“We are good together. Tally and I.”

“Hey, Prez. You
can’t
even say her name or even
breathe it
for
two years
. I thought I made myself clear on that point.”

“We’re clear,” I say with a little smile. “We’re clear.”

I will have to take these small little moments of happiness where I can find them. Somehow, I already know they will be few and far between because all I have left is baseball, while the only thing I truly care about just walked out of my life. I’ll be the first one to admit that I have no right to say or even think this after what just transpired with Tally; but I love her, as in always, even if I can’t be with her. I love her all the same.