This Much Is True (23 page)

“Yes, I do. I want to. I need to. We both do.”

“You should try to work things out with Charlie.”

“If Charlie wants things to work out with us, he can come to New York and work them out. In the meantime, it’s me and you.” She gets this defiant look.

For a distraction, we split the rest of Marla’s half of the burger and ask for a second serving of fries. It’s an unheard of request from both of us. The pie remains untouched. We consume more calories in these first forty-five minutes than we’ve ever expended in a ballet class. I enjoy every single bite. The flavors of the burger and French fries and the ketchup are utterly fantastic. Marla teases me about my religious experience with food, and I just nod with my mouth still full, savoring every amazing morsel in the congenial silence. I’m reminded of Linc when he cooked for me. I stop chewing, swallow hard, and attempt to keep it together. My eyes water and I try to smile while Marla just stares at me from across the booth again.

“What are you going to do?” she finally asks.

“I don’t know, yet.”

I shrug my shoulders and sort of laugh and hand her one of the forks. We start from opposite ends of the coconut crème pie working our way to the center. Marla remains quiet, waiting me out. Usually she jabbers but today she seems to sense my inherent need for complete and utter silences—intervals where she seemingly recognizes my desire to be fully engulfed in enormity of it all for a good long while.

There is constant chaos all around us. New Yorkers come and go. Regulars clink their coffee cups, and waitresses crack jokes with the cooks, and the diner seems to take on a life all its own with the hustle and bustle of eating and drinking and just being. It soothes the two of us. We just sit there taking in the ambiance of the place. It’s a joint if ever there was one. Tourists and regulars coexist with a staff that probably serves as a quasi family for many of them. Eventually, I anoint the diner’s sounds for what they are: continuous motion
. Life.
It makes me smile. I glance over at Marla and acknowledge her insistent tap tap on the blue speckled Formica with her bright-red fingernails, which have become more prominent in last few months. Tremblay always had a problem with red nail polish and insisted we use demure colors on our nails, unless a performance calls for something more “colorful,” as she once put it.

Marla’s moved on. Why can’t I? Life. Continuous motion.
Life. Here it is.

I give Marla the
I’m-okay-just-don’t-ask-me-anything-hard
smile. She shakes her head side-to-side in quiet disbelief. My best friend groans in sympathy as she leans back on her elbows, while her long blond hair graces the back of the booth behind her. “Talk to me,” she says. “You never do anymore, not in a while anyway.”

I play with a cold French fry and silently count the number of times the bell dings at the restaurant’s front door as people come in and go out
. Eight.
Eight dings signal the diner’s customers going in or out.

“I didn’t pay much attention,” I say slowly. “I haven’t had a period in a long while before the accident. What with the Boxer’s Diet and stuff. I didn’t think anything of it. Then, with Benson teasing me that I’m heavier than usual, which is weird because…you know that I tend to track that stuff. Only I haven’t been. Not since Holly died. I mean I get on the scale on a regular basis, but it’s weird because when I do I’ve gained three pounds all of a sudden. And I’m thinking, why is that?” I exhale. “I haven’t been eating all that much, so I kept thinking why is that? I can’t quite believe it. I mean, you know I’m such a stickler about birth control but when Holly died, I took antibiotics for a while to ward off an infection from the gash in my leg, and I’m popping birth control pills more sporadically at times. My life was a mess, and I wasn’t paying attention.” I take a breath.

“Then I met Linc.” I try to smile, but the heartbreak over him remains with me, and it’s never far enough away. “He had it covered that night—with the best of Trojan—but there was this one extra time, and I thought it was okay. I told him it would be, but I did some research earlier tonight. Antibiotics can interfere with contraceptives, and I guess they did.”

“Holy shit.”

I move my head up and down so slowly as if it will make it untrue, but I already know it’s true. I just did five pregnancy tests five hours ago. And now that I know what it is, I can feel it.
I feel different. Fluttery. Weepy. Outside of myself.

“All those lectures about having it covered. Geez, the paper you wrote for Hennessey’s class about contraceptives leading to the ultimate freedom of women.”

“
Please.
Let’s not rehash my academic accomplishments, especially when the irony of it all is so, let’s face it, flipping ironic.”

Marla starts to laugh.

And truly? Levity is what I need at a time like this. I slowly smile.

“What do you want to do?” Marla leans in closer from across the table so our conversation isn’t overheard.

“I don’t know. I don’t want my parents to find out. It would kill them—their only daughter left—screwing things up this way. I don’t think they could handle it right now. My dad is still burying himself in work at hospital, but my mom seems to be doing so much better, at least that’s what they tell me when I call. I don’t want to upset them right now, until I know what I’m going to do.” I trace the pattern in the Formica table.

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” Marla soothes.

I glance up and find her busy downloading something on her iPhone. “What?”

“Pregnancy calculator,” she answers.

“They have an app for that?”

“May 22
nd
, right?”

“Let me think.” My mind is not cooperating the way it normally does. I can’t think or do simple math. Marla passes me the phone, and we look at the month of May together. “May 22
nd
, then.” I groan.

She keys in the date and gets this dazed look. “February 14
th
,” she says slowly.

“Valentine’s Day.” The irony isn’t lost on either one of us.

* * * *

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Linc ~ Off-season

“M
ore money than God,” Charlie likes to say about my contract with the Angels. The promise of money is there. I have to deliver first.

Early December finds me settled back in at the guest house at Uncle Chad and Aunt Gina’s after a long season in which the Angels placed second in the AL West. I played a small part in the short-lived victory of my third outing in Major League Baseball, pitching for the Angels. We finished with a just below five-hundred season, which still isn’t good enough. “Well, done for a rookie,” I was told by just about everyone. I should be happy. I should still be riding that high from late September when all my dreams and achievements for baseball essentially came true, but I harbor these uneasy feelings. Fears. Fear of failing, falling, and losing, just like Tally and I talked about once. And I still pine away for the girl I lost because of baseball. The fact that she is clear across the country doesn’t help me in any discernible way. Granted, for the majority of the year, I was either in Salt Lake City or traveling up and down the West Coast with the Angels’ triple A team, the Salt Lake Bees, until they brought me up to Major Leagues with the Angels in early September when one of their starting pitchers suffered a shoulder injury that put him out for the season. It felt good to ascend to the Major Leagues. I did well.

Now, I’m just glad to be back home in Palo Alto for a while. However, with all this free time on my hands; it inevitably leads to continual thoughts of Tally Landon.

I’ve begun to question Kimberley’s edict that I have to stay away from her. Tally is over eighteen now. What’s the big deal? Intent on resolving this, once and for all, I dial Kimberley’s number. Her regular insertion into my life with these weekly
check-ins
as she fondly refers to them are a requirement for working with her, especially since she’s in New York more often than L.A. these days.

“Powers,” Kimberley says on the second ring. I can never understand how she picks up her phone so fast, but have decided it’s because it is never more than two inches away from her face.

“It’s your favorite baseball player,” I say. “Checking in, as always and forever.”

“Charmer,” she says with a laugh. “What gives? I thought we weren’t scheduled for another week? And, it’s almost Christmas or haven’t you heard?”

“Is it?” I pause, formulating a plan on the fly. “I’m at loose ends. I was thinking of taking a trip to New York and just wanted to—”

She cuts me off before I have a chance to even launch into all the reasons I need to see Tally. “That’s a bad idea. Linc, you can’t see her. I’m not kidding around. Where before you had potential for the big contract, you now have one. You can’t allow anything or anyone to interfere with that right now. We have to be squeaky clean. Can’t you like take up a cause or something? Go out and have some fun. Date someone else who is actually your age.”

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“I know but it doesn’t work that way. She’s still too young for you. You’re twenty-three; she’s just turned eighteen.”

“Her birthday was in August. Ages ago,” I say.

“Like I’ve said at least a million times before, all the papers would speculate, and then the questions would start. How did you first meet? And then someone would remember seeing you two of you together early last summer. Some Starbucks barista that needs the cash and is willing to sell you out for ten grand or some damn idiotic reason like that. It wouldn’t even have to be
true
. Listen to me. Trust me on this. I know what I’m talking about. Please hear me. Move on. Go date some older twenty-five-something-year-old that is preferably blond and way different than Tally Landon. Do it for me?” She sighs. “What about the Russian girl you’ve mentioned? The girl from your Stats class.”

“Nika.”

“Yes,” she says with a laugh. “Nika would be perfect. You like her. She’s your age, right? You told me she was smart, beautiful, and Russian. She’s the complete opposite of your girlfriend. Go out with Nika. You’ll have fun.”

“I don’t want to go out with Nika.”

“Do it anyway.
Please
. For me. She’d be entertaining enough and occupy your mind, body, and soul, at least for a couple of days. What does she do anyway?”

“She’s into computers. She freelances. The last time I talked to her; she was moving to Seattle.”

“Seattle’s not that far away. Same coast. She sounds like fun.”

“She’s a hacker,” I say, hoping to put Kimberley off.

“So she’s brilliant, besides. I’m sure she’d blow your mind.
Literally.
She’s sounds perfect for you, just what you need right now, Mr. Presley.”

Kimberley seems preoccupied. She’s talking about her new job in Paris and meeting some new guy. Even though she’s thousands of miles away from me in New York, I hang on to every last word she utters because of something she’s just said, “I checked in on Tally a few months ago. She’s doing great.”

“How did you do that?” I ask in perceptible wonder.

“I have my ways.” Kimberley laughs. “I’m here in New York over Christmas and I may see her or call her again,” she says using the somewhat flippant tone I’ve come to expect from her. “I thought I’d catch one of the New York City Ballet performances. Sasha Belmont’s a friend of mine. They’re enthralled with their latest intern. Apparently, they’re talking about a European tour this coming spring and Tally’s being considered for it. She already had a solo part in Sleeping Beauty this past fall. She’s doing exceptionally well. A star on the rise already according to Sasha and the press.”

“Wow. She got the internship?” I sound pathetic. I clear my throat in a weak attempt to correct my over-enthusiasm just in case Kimberley starts to read too much into it. “How do you know all of this about Tally?” I suddenly feel a little uneasy over what her answer will be and invariably start to spin out of control in the next few seconds at just the idea of getting to see Tally perform. I hold my breath awaiting Kimberley’s answer.
Why can’t I just move on from this girl?

“You pay me the big bucks to ensure that I know what I know. You care about her. I care about what’s going on with you. It is part of my modus operandi to know what’s going on with all of my clients and every aspect of their lives, as unseemly as that might seem.” She laughs but then her voice catches. “Besides, we’re friends.”

“Right.”

“I have to admit I’ve been a little remiss,” she says with a little sigh. “I should have checked up on her again, but she’s been a little harder to track down. Sasha mentioned the internship and the solo part in September or October, but I haven’t heard anymore about that, or Tally, or who she might be she seeing, for example. It’s always good to keep tabs on your competition.”

I wince on my end of the line at the jealous thought that Tally is seeing anyone. I have no right to dictate who Tally might be seeing at this point.

“I just want to know what she’s been doing,” Kimberley says. “And I know
you
want to know how she’s doing. From what I’ve heard, she’s had a very quiet year. I realize you’re relieved, but it’s a little strange that our little Paly high school grad isn’t making a bigger splash on the NYC social scene. I’ve put it down to her being busy with her ballet career just like you’re busy with baseball, but I just want to ensure that everything is copacetic on Ms. Landon’s end of things. I feel…somewhat responsible for how messy things got between you two, and I just want to ensure she’s doing okay.”

“Right,” I say and openly sigh taking a much-needed breath. There’s instant relief on my end that Tally Landon led a very quiet year. “I really want to go to New York and check in with Tally myself and ensure she’s doing okay and not seeing anybody.”

“I know,” Kimberley consoles. “
You can’t.
I’m here in New York for a while. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll be in touch. Now, go do something fun for yourself;
call Nika
.”

I groan openly at her maniacal laugh as she ends the call seconds later after wishing me a Merry Christmas. I barely hear her. I’m consumed with thoughts of Tally because all I want to do is go to New York and see her for myself.

* * *

As a distraction, ten minutes later, I’m dialing Nika’s number because I’ve decided there may be a way she can help me. I want to find out more about Tally and her life and what she’s really been doing for the past six months. What better way than asking someone who has awesome hacking skills to help me out.

Nika cell phone rings four times. I’m just about to hang up when I hear her sexy voice. “Lincoln Presley. It’s been…a while.”

“Has it?”

“So, how’s the off-season?”

The way she’s said
off-season
makes it sound dirty. I laugh despite my best efforts to resist her charm. We’re just friends now, but the longer I talk to her, the more I realize how lonely I am. Nika is entertaining. She’s giving me the rundown on life in Seattle. One thing holds true; Nika knows how to find fun wherever she lands, while my life consists of attending practice, throwing a baseball, and preparing for next spring even in the off-season. I haven’t had any fun in a long time.

“How’s the hacking business?” I ask after a few minutes when there’s a lull in the conversation.

She laughs.

“I’m always looking for legitimate work.”

“I have something for you to work on.” I spend the next ten minutes giving her the lowdown on what all I know about Tally Landon.

“So what am I looking for exactly?” Nika asks, sounding somewhat impatient after my long spiel about Tally.

I take a breath and try to focus because in just talking about Tally Landon again all this turmoil over her resurfaces. When I’m solely focused on baseball, as I should be, I rarely think about Tally. It’s more about the next game. How fast is my fast ball? How good was my pitching in the seventh inning? When is the next game and will I be in the rotation? Nothing else. But here in the late December when my world has finally slowed down, all I do is think about is Tally. I sigh.

“She was important to me. I just want to know how she’s spending her time. What’s she’s been up to in the last year and who she’s been spending time with. I’ll pay you triple your going rate.”

Nika laughs again. “You don’t even know what my rate is.” She pauses for a few seconds and her breath catches. “I’m expensive.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“Okay,” she says slowly breathing into the phone as part of her answer. “Okay. I’ll see what I can find out about her. I’ll be in touch.
Soon
…Lincoln Presley.”

After hanging up with Nika, I sigh deep with relief because I’m doing something, at least, in hiring Nika to find out everything there is to know about Tally. That’s what I tell myself, although another part of me starts thinking through the ramifications of having invited Nika back in my world. That part concludes it might not be a good thing, but I ignore the deep-seated fear beginning to surface in knowing Nika could invariably wreak more havoc on my life in all these unpredictable ways even more than Tally has. No. I ignore that wayward thought. I’m just focused on learning more about everything that Tally has been doing for the past several months. Yes. I’m less concerned about meeting up with Nika again than I should be, even though a small part of me knows that could prove to my undoing.

* * * *