Deepest Scars Page 9

  “No, not even a text. I’m flying to Chicago next week, going to look for an apartment, get a car. I’m telling my boss today.”

  “Doug, I don’t know. That’s a big move for a relationship that may never happen.” I cut my eyes to Liz and back to the road. Her eyes are trained on her window, and I wonder what she’s thinking.

  “All my friends are in the States. It’s almost impossible to form real relationships here. Even if she doesn’t take me back, I’m ready to be home.”

  “Okay, but I don’t want you deluding yourself.” Like I did for two years, I think.

  “I thought about this, and I know what I’m doing.”

  “How long did you think about this?”

  “A week, but—”

  “Doug, I know you. I get it. Let me know if you’re coming through Phoenix.” Ready to be done with the conversation, I tap the steering wheel.

  “Okay, well, I hope we can meet up soon.”

  “Yep, that’d be great.”

  “I’ll call you next week.”

  “Okay, bye.” I tap the end call button and glance at Liz. “So, that was Doug.”

  “Friend from college?”

  I nod. “Best friends since freshman year.” I think about how I tried to steal Amanda from him. He wasn’t happy with me. Then, she dumped him, and Doug and I had something to bond over. Our friendship is getting back to normal, and it almost feels like a repeat of when his first girlfriend dumped him. Zoey 2.0, I wonder? But Amanda’s not crazy, so he’s got that going for him.

  “And the girl?”

  “Amanda.”

  “Were they together a long time? Are you friends with her?” Her eyes catch mine for a second. “Sorry, I’m being nosy.”

  “It’s okay. Not really any big secrets. They were together for two and half years.”

  “And he messed up?”

  “It’s complicated. It was more of an error of omission.”

  “Can I ask if you’re friends with her?”

  “Sure.” I exhale, thinking I might as well come clean now. If I didn’t like her, I wouldn’t bother. But if we’re going to be involved, and I hope we are, it’s something I would tell her anyway. “You know half the story, you might as well know the rest.”

  “Would she take him back?”

  “We don’t talk. I have no clue.”

  “Not friends at all? I mean it seems like you’d have to be—”

  “Like I said, complicated.”

  She spins to face me. “You liked her.”

  “How did you get there?”

  “You’re not going to deny it?”

  “I’m not going to lie to you.”

  “Okay, that was gutsy.” Her legs jut out straight. “Well, now you have to spill the rest.”

  “It’s a long story,” I warn her.

  “We have over an hour left, and I love stories.”

  I tell her how Amanda and I dated first, that she chose Doug when he tried to steal her from me.

  She narrows her eyes. “But you stayed friends with Doug?”

  “After I decked him.”

  “That was warranted. What about Amanda?”

  “We went back to being friends.”

  Liz releases her bun and shakes out her hair. “And when was this?”

  “Three years ago.”

  “This is so interesting. I didn’t realize guys had drama.”

  “You’re really nerdy if you don’t have drama.”

  I backtrack to how Amanda almost died on the volleyball court and then jump to the whole Zoey pregnancy thing. Next, I tell her about the attack at Northwestern and how Amanda spiraled, becoming anorexic. “With Doug in Japan, I became one of her closest friends.”

  “And you loved her all along?”

  Starting to feel self-conscious, I squeeze the steering wheel. “I don’t know. It felt like it.”

  “So, what did Doug do, or not do, to get dumped?”

  “He didn’t believe she was better. He couldn’t trust her.”

  “I can see how that could be hard.” She nods. “How long has it been since you talked to her?”

  “Seven months, save for once right after they broke up in March.”

  The cab is silent for a few minutes. As we pass a sign for an exit, Liz’s head turns to face out the window and then back to me. “Are you hungry? I’m starving, and I owe you dinner.”

  “For what?”

  “Loaning me all the gear.”

  “I’m hungry, but you don’t have to treat.” I turn off the highway onto the exit ramp.

  We decide on a steak burger place since Mexican is too close to the beans we’d been eating in the canyon.

  “I think I’m going to be eating a lot the next few days,” Liz comments as she pops a fry in her mouth.

  “Are you working tomorrow?”

  “No, I used up all my vacation time for six months, but I don’t have to work till Friday.”

  We talk about our schedules for the next week and finish the meal. Back on the road, it’s only a half hour till we near the Phoenix area.

  “So, I can clean the gear and return it next week,” Liz tells me.

  “That’s not necessary. I have to wash my stuff anyway.”

  “Well, I can help, at least.”

  “That’d be cool. I’d like to see you again.” I take a deep breath, glance at her, and then back to the road.

  “Yeah, that’d be nice,” she says.

  Mentally, I cheer. We arrive at her place and sort out the gear.

  “Want me to help you up?” I ask as she shoulders her bag.

  “No, this is light.”

  “Okay.” I roll on my feet. “This was fun. I’m glad we got to spend more time together.”

  “Yeah, I bet that memory road thing was really fun.”

  “Hey, life is life, right? Everyone’s got one. Hey, should I get your number?”

  She looks at me sideways. “Do you want my number?”

  I smile. “I would like to get your number.”

  “Okay.” She takes my number and sends me a text. “Maybe after the hike Saturday we can clean the gear.”

  “That sounds like a plan.” I nod and close my back gate.

  Driving home, I realize we live under five minutes from each other. I unload the gear and set it inside the door on a tarp. I’m wound up from the trip. It’s not late, barely dark, so I pull out my camera and download the pictures to my computer. I’d love to have a set of prints for Liz by Saturday when she comes over. I weed out the bad ones and crop others. There are several good ones of her, and I resist messaging them to her phone. Instead, I upload them to a store nearby. They develop in twenty-four hours, so I’ll be able to get them by Friday.

  My phone dings, and I pick it up.

  THIS TURNED OUT GOOD, Liz messages with the photo of us in front of the fire.

  IT DID. I message back. THANKS.

  YOU’RE WELCOME. GOODNIGHT, she returns.

  GOODNIGHT.

  I find it ironic that the one day in weeks my shift is at Mayo Liz is not here. Crossing the parking lot, I type a message to her, GUESS WHERE I AM? and snap a shot of the front entrance.

  GUESS WHERE I AM? She writes back with a picture of a coffee mug sitting on concrete.

  PATIO? I text.

  NEED FURNITURE.

  I think for a minute and then type: WE COULD GO THIS WEEKEND IF YOU NEED MY TRUCK.

  THAT WOULD BE MORE FURNITURE THAN I CAN AFFORD. I MAY GO TODAY.

  OKAY, HAVE A GOOD ONE.

  U2. SAY HI TO LYDIA AND ROSE FOR ME.

  REALLY?

  NO, NEVER MIND. She adds a winky face.

  I smile and pick up my pace.

  “Someone’s happy today,” Mitchell calls as I enter the PT room. “How was the canyon?”

  “Amazing.” I stow my backpack and log in to the computer, checking my schedule.

  “Anything notable?”

  “Nope.” I lie.

  “Well
, nothing’s different here. You up for some basketball this weekend? Maybe Saturday.”

  “I’ll have to see,” I tell him even though I’ve blocked off the day for Liz in my mind.

  Work is work. I finish my eight-hour shift at three and head to the baseball field, taking an hour for a workout before I need to be in the locker room.

  “Look who’s back.” Carlos greets me with a hug. “My man, I missed you. How are you?”

  “Good.” I nod. “The trip was amazing.”

  “Yeah? So, the redhead? Anything new with her?”

  “Maybe, I got her number.” I take out the tape for his knee and start wrapping.

  “Good for you.” He slaps me on the back. “Now maybe you will ask her out.”

  “I think probably.”

  “Good. You already seem in a better mood.”

  I cut a piece of tape and wait for him to push his sleeve up. “I haven’t been in a bad mood.”

  “Well, you haven’t been happy, that’s for sure.”

  Rolling my eyes, I push my chair back. “That’s not true.”

  “Never mind, I’m not arguing with you. We’ll have to plan something soon so Eva can meet her.”

  “I think that’s a little premature.”

  “We’ll see.” He chuckles and jumps off the table.

  The game goes smoothly, and the D-backs win. I wonder if Liz is watching the game and check my phone, but there aren’t any messages from her. It’s after ten when I head to my car, and I figure it’s too late to text. I know she has an early shift tomorrow. If she’s like me, the phone is on silent mode from ten to five.

  Just as I pocket my phone, it buzzes. HEY, SAW THE D-BACKS WON. NOT SURE IF YOU WERE DONE YET. HEADING TO BED, Liz messages.

  In my head, I do a mental hurrah that she’s texting me. JUST GETTING TO MY CAR. DID YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY?

  YEAH, SLEPT AND ATE A LOT. GOT SOME PATIO FURNITURE. HOW ABOUT YOU?

  COOL. LONG BUT GOOD DAY. I sit in my car to finish the conversation.

  OKAY, WELL, G’NIGHT.

  GOODNIGHT, I type feeling positive about the direction our relationship seems to be heading.

  I’m dragging in the morning. My phone dings as I stand in the coffee cart line at Banner University. I’m sure a big silly grin is plastered on my face as I read Liz’s text.

  BACK AT WORK. She texts me a picture of the sun over Mayo’s building.

  SAY HI TO LYDIA AND ROSE FOR ME. I add a winky face.

  DON’T THINK SO. HOPE YOUR DAY IS GOOD.

  U2. LOOKING FORWARD TO TOMORROW. I hold my breath for her response.

  ME 2. SEE YA!

  I wonder if I should offer to pick her up before the hike. It would make sense if she’s coming back to my place anyway. I worry that it may be too much, so I decide against it.

  After my shift, I pick up the prints. At the store, I wonder if I should organize them in an album. That is nerdy, I tell myself. Next, I need food. I’m in the drive-through line when my phone rings. Mentally slapping myself, I answer the call. “Hi, Mom. Sorry I haven’t called since I’ve been back. Work has been crazy.”

  “I haven’t talked to you in two weeks. I thought you’d died.”

  “Uh, Mom, you know I have an automatic system that will text you if I bite it.”

  “Don’t talk that way. How was your trip? I want to know everything.”

  “Wait a second, I’m getting food.” I put her on hold as I reach the window, pay, and open the chicken wrap before I pull forward. Resuming the call, I summarize the trip, omitting everything Liz.

  Mom seems to ignore everything I say. “Well, you know Rosh Hashanah is in a month. Have you decided what you’re doing?”

  “I haven’t really thought about it.” I roll my eyes, knowing she’s not going to let this go. I’m going to have to go to my aunt’s whether I want to or not.

  “Well, you should call your aunt Heather. She’s planning a big dinner.”

  “Okay, Mom, listen, I have to go. I’m almost at the field.”

  “Always working. When are we going to see you again?”

  I find a spot and kill my engine. “I don’t know. Tickets for Thanksgiving are expensive. I may only come for Chanukah.”

  “I’m not going to see you for six months?”

  “Mom, it’s four.” Grabbing my bag, I exit the truck. “Hey, I’ll video chat you over the weekend, okay?”

  “Okay, well send me some pictures from your trip.”

  “I will. Love you.”

  “Love you, too,” she says, and I end the call as I enter the building.

  I get right to work, and my banter with Carlos and the guys follows its normal routine. Sitting watching the game with the rest of the crew, I receive a text. Waiting till the inning break, I see the message is from Liz and count it as a plus that she’s reaching out again.

  HI, HOPE YOU HAD A GOOD DAY. JUST CONFIRMING FOR TOMORROW. SEE YOU THEN.

  QUICK TEXT BETWEEN INNINGS. THANKS, AND U2! SEE YOU AT 6. I add a smiley face.

  I pull in the trail lot a few minutes before six and, seeing Liz’s car, park beside it. She’s positioned at the edge of the group talking to Beth Anne and Cody. I approach Jeff and Isabelle, and we exchange greetings. As Jeff calls the group to order, I take a couple side steps to Liz.

  “Morning,” I whisper to her, Beth Anne, and Cody.

  “What’s been up with you?” Cody asks as we start the hike.

  “Work, work, and more work,” I tell him.

  As Liz finishes her conversation with Beth Anne, she stops and waits for me.

  “Hi, how are you?” I ask.

  “Good. How was your night?”

  “Fine. That rain storm was crazy, right?”

  “It rained?” I look at her confused.

  “Yeah, oh you were in the stadium. It was really bucketing down.”

  “Bucketing?”

  Her face turns blood red. “Irish for raining hard. I revert sometimes.”

  I venture a question about her past. “So, you lived in Ireland?”

  “Yeah.” She looks at the ground and then to the trail ahead. “For eight years, I was born there.”

  “You’re an Irish citizen? Cool. How was that?”

  “Good, I was young, so I don’t remember tons, but yeah.” She nods. “It was nice.” She talks about how you can have dual Irish-American citizenship.

  “I’m guessing polar opposite of the weather here.”

  “Yes, that’s true.” She looks the opposite way and then back to me. “So, you still have time for washing the gear?”

  “Yeah, I’m thinking my vehicle could use a bath too. It’s pretty muddy inside.”

  “There was dirt in the bottom of my washer when I finished my load.”

  We talk about her day at Mayo, Lydia and Rose, the hike, and weather as we continue on the trail. At the break, I catch up with Beth Anne and Cody and then follow Jeff and Isabelle as we make our way back to the parking lot.

  “So, Liz? You guys seem friendly.” Isabelle’s eyebrows raise.

  Jeff spins and faces Isabelle. “I think we meddled enough last time.”

  Isabelle looks at me and back to Jeff. She juts her bottom lip out. “I never get any good information.”

  As we near the trailhead, I try to be subtle as I make my way to Liz. Then, Jeff calls for suggestions for brunch locations. I sigh as I’d forgotten about that portion of the outing. I’m ready to be alone with Liz.

  She turns her head towards me and whispers, “It may be more obvious if we leave together from the restaurant.”

  “Ashamed to be seen with me already? Not such a great start to a friendship. But I could make us breakfast at my place if you want to bail on the brunch outing.”

  “That sounds good,” she replies.

  I mentally exhale and steel my face, hoping an automatic grin hadn’t plastered itself there. We bow out of the eating event and make our way to our vehicles.

  “So, you can follow me, b
ut I’ll text you the address in case we get separated.” I tap the keys on my phone and hit send.

  Her phone dings, and she views the screen. “Perfect.” A smile spreads across her face.

  I climb in my car, and she lets me back out first. On the highway, I try not to speed, but the norm is at least ten over, and I decide to go with the flow. Liz trails me well, and we pull into my parking lot twenty minutes later.

  “You live five minutes from me,” she exclaims as she gets out of the car.

  “I know.” I can’t help but grin. I’m so happy she’s at my apartment. “This works out well.” I point in the direction we need to head. “I have something for you.” At the top of the stairs, I lead her to my door, unlocking it and waiting for her to enter.

  Stepping through the doorway, she spins to face me. “I hope I’m not imposing. I was kind of done with the social thing.”

  “Not at all.”

  She surveys the room. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks. It’s kind of bland so far. I think I’m going to blow up some of the photos from the trip and have them framed. But it’s kind of expensive.” I cross to the coffee table and pick up the envelope of photos. “These are for you.”

  “What?” She takes the folder and opens it. Going through the prints, she moves to my side and looks up at me. “These are amazing. This is really nice of you.”

  “No problem. They turned out really good.” I motion to the kitchen. “Let’s get some food started. What do you like?”

  “Anything is fine.”

  I take the eggs from the fridge along with some veggies and bagels. “Omelet?”

  “Sure.” Her eyes trace around the room. They stop at the sliding glass door. “We could eat outside.”

  “See if it’s too hot yet. I should probably get an umbrella.” I get out a bowl and pan and start to crack the eggs.

  Opening the patio door, she sticks her head out. “Yeah, it’s hot already.” She crosses back to me and starts opening drawers. “Knife for the bagels?”

  “Middle one.” I half point.

  She slices the bread and pops it in the toaster while I cook the omelet. Opening cabinets, she brings out plates and silverware. “You weren’t lying about Ikea. This could be their model apartment.”

  “I only moved what fit in the truck, and I’m obsessed with my books.” I point to the shelves in the living room. Sliding omelets on the plates, I set them in front of the bar stools. “Haven’t quite managed a real table yet.” We both sit down. “Actually, you’re the first person to come to my apartment.”