This Much Is True (37 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Linc ~ Reacting badly

A
ll those plans for telling Tally how I feel come to an abrupt halt the night of the rehearsal dinner when I’m introduced to Rob Thorn, by of all people, Nika Vostrikova, who informs me that they both have been kept waiting for hours together as she put it for my return as well as Tally’s. I shook his hand and eyed him warily. It’s confirmed; he still has the Kurt Cobain thing going on but, unlike the photographs I’ve seen of him before, this guy in the flesh is now one self-assured jerk. Rob Thorn knows he’s already won. The only time I see his self-assuredness falter is when Nika walks in, right behind Tally, both of them arriving fashionably late to the rehearsal dinner. That’s when it all comes together for me. The guy’s in love with my girlfriend. Yet he’s engaged to the only girl I’ve ever loved. It may be for nothing more than to harbor and enjoy the satisfaction that he beat me to the one and only prize I’ve ever wanted—Tally Landon. Rob Thorn does have more money than God, and his self-assurance tells me that he knows I know this already, too. Misery settles in on me, intent on a long stay.

On the other side of this complex equation is Nika. I specifically asked her to stay away from this wedding; once I told her I was going to go to it. We’re on a break, one of several that we’ve had over this last particular off-season. Nobody supports me better than Nika when baseball season is in full swing. She comes to most of my games. It doesn’t matter to her where they are. We’ve traveled the country together to all of these out of-the-way cities and towns for baseball. During the season, Nika serves as almost a lifeline to me—more than a friend, not quite a girlfriend—but we’re both agreeable to all these unique benefits between us. We revel in them. We don’t ask for more from each other. It is enough—us, somewhat together—during baseball season. Our relationship didn’t start out that way; it evolved.

Nika has no problem spending my money, guarding my time, ensuring I get my sleep and enough to eat during baseball season. She’s like a veritable watch dog. It’s not the kindest analogy, but that’s what Nika’s like. She constantly deals with the fan girls in this diplomatic sort of way of hers and deftly handles the press in Kimberley’s stead. Nika ensures I get there on time and takes care of all the extraneous stuff in all these baseball towns after I arrive. She doesn’t get hung up on our future any more than I do, which is probably why we keep coming back to each other.

Feeling guilty at times, I’ve tried to explain to her that there isn’t a future for us and every time she just casually shrugs and tells me she understands.
We have an understanding.
She knows about Tally. Hell, she keeps tabs on Tally for me.

Nika doesn’t even ask why I still need her to do this. Nika just understands. She’s sexy and fun and carefree, and she spends all her free time with me. It’s a turn-on in its own unique way. She tells me that she doesn’t need anything from me, and she takes care of just about everything. For me.

Am I selfish that way? Yes.
But she’s willing and, at least during baseball season; I’m her singular focus and I like that. She makes me feel less alone. Nika keeps me focused on the game. She makes me feel like a winner in the way she effectively takes care of things and the things she says about me and the things she’s willing to do for me.

It’s during the off-season that we end up fighting. We always end up taking a break from each other during the off-season.

Charlie thinks Nika is some kind of an addiction to me—a drug that’s probably bad for me, calling forth all kinds of hidden side-effects that I can’t even fathom yet. He might be right.

It’s still the off-season
barely
, but we’re on a break. She knows this. And yet, she’s here at Charlie and Marla’s wedding. Part of me is pissed at her for showing up, unannounced; and the other part of me is fortified by her very presence.

Even tonight, Nika proves to be exactly what I need as I numbly watched Charlie and Marla exchange vows and say
‘I do’
and proceed to get dragged into watching all these manufactured social performances going on here at their reception. I watch Rob Thorn look longingly over at our table while he nuzzles his fiancée Tally in the next breath. I drink my way through it on the other side of the room and just blatantly watch this sham unfold.

Now Nika whispers into my ear that I’ve had enough, and that we should go. I numbly turn to her and silently nod.
Nika gets me.
Right now, I need someone to understand the worst parts of me; in particular, my unrequited love for Tally Landon that still has a vice-like grip upon my fucking soul even though she’s virtually ignored me the entire evening and last because Rob Thorn is here.
I don’t exist. I don’t like it.

Nika sees it. She gets it. She’s prepared to save me from myself and Tally Landon. Some distant part of me is grateful for this respite. Another part is longing to prove a point. That one wins out. I get up from the table where we’ve been nursing drinks all night and attempt to steady myself and find my balance as I start across the dance floor. Tally’s dancing with Rob. Charlie’s dancing with Marla. I surprise everyone when I cut in on Charlie. Rob gives me a stony look and squires Tally far away from me.

I grab on to Marla, slur a compliment about her dress and how beautiful she looks, while she gets this anxious look at my obvious hopeless state.

“Because let’s face it; Lincoln Presley is spinning out of control right in front of everybody here, and it’s all because of one girl,” I say summing this up for Marla now.

“Prez, not here,” she says gently. “Not now. Okay?”

“When then? When is it going to be okay to tell her how I feel?”

“You’re
with
someone.” Marla gestures wildly toward the far side of the dance floor where Nika closely watches the two of us dance while standing there in her lovely long gown. I shake my head. Only Nika would do her best to upstage the bride. She looks like a queen languishing there in this white slinky dress and glittery diamond earrings that probably set me back a cool twenty grand.

“I want to be with someone else. I want to be with Tally. It’s always been Tally.”

“You’re drunk. You need to pull it together. It isn’t going to happen like this, not in this way, Linc. She’s in New York. You’re in L.A. or every baseball town in between. How can you possibly be together? And frankly, where have you been for her?” Marla’s voice goes up a few octaves and gets louder. “You
chose
this!

“I know,” I say. “But I want something different. I want things to change.”

“You want something different? You want things to change? With Tally?” Marla scans my face.

I nod while saying, “Yes.”

She glares at me. “Then, do something about it or the outcome is going to be the same every single fucking time.
You did this.
I blamed her for so long, but
you
did this to her in the first place. You
broke
her when you chose baseball. You did that.
Own it.
You’ve got to start showing her that to even have a chance of winning her back. But right now? Go back to your girlfriend or whatever she is to you; or better yet,
go to bed
and sleep it off. This isn’t going to resolve itself tonight.
Leave
, Prez. You’re too drunk to do anything about it right now.”

The music has stopped.

The entire wedding party stares at the two of us.

I look over and discover Tally standing a few feet away from us with her mouth open. Rob holds onto her like he owns her, while he openly stares at Nika with this inexplicable pain that’s hard to even look at. Nika, who has walked up to this little party of five, and tells me, “We need to go.” She doesn’t even glance at Rob, and this seems to incite him even more.

I react badly.

“What the hell, dude?” I say to Rob. “You’ve
won
her. Tally’s yours. And yet, you’re staring at Nika, like she’s the only one in the world that matters to you. Get your head on straight.”

I don’t even see his right hook coming until it connects with my face. No, I just stagger back at the unexpected force of his fist directly against my jaw line. In the next few seconds, I register incalculable pain, lose my balance, and then fall back hard to the floor.

The release feels good. After that, it’s black.

* * * *

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Tally ~ I have this

L
incoln Presley sleeps. It’s a sight to behold. I take these first few precious moments of solitude to gaze at him in unguarded wonder and trace my fingertips along his unconscious form. The ER doctor said he was going to be fine, but I have my doubts—my uncontrollable fears—and I just want a few minutes with him alone to be sure. I demand a few minutes alone with him from everyone—the doctors, the nurses, the family, his friends, his publicist Kimberley Powers, and his closest friend with benefits Nika Vostrikova.

Quick thinking by Charlie in performing CPR after quickly realizing his best man had stopped breathing saved Linc’s life. The doctor informed all of us in the waiting room that Linc has a mild concussion; but added that the reason he stopped breathing remains a mystery.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief that the star baseball player was okay.
Everyone, but me.

I don’t quite believe it. Equal doses of fear and wrath battle for my living soul. Seeing Linc not breathing brings it all back for me. It’s like losing my sister all over again. Another loved one. Me. Loss. Love. I shudder remembering Linc’s long prostrate form laid out on the dance floor. Charlie’s frantic efforts to get him to breathe. Linc not breathing. The fears rise again with their all-too-familiar drumbeat—failing, falling, losing, Linc. They reverberate through me at an accelerated rate finding fresh life inside of me once more.

I haven’t outrun any of them.

Not one.

Not him.

I can’t do this.

I. Cant. Do. This.

I told the doctor I wanted to be with him.
Alone.
I demanded it. I sent that bitch Nika on her way. I sent Rob back to New York and told him I was moving out, and we were through. Tremendous relief comes with that truth, alone. I’m able to breathe now and being told Lincoln Presley was going to be fine allowed me my heart to beat once again. In a daze and with a remarkable sense of control, I encourage an anxious Marla and Charlie to go and catch their flight, because ‘
I have this.’

I. Have. This.

This.

Whatever this is.

I have it.

I have to make this right because I’ve made it so damn wrong for far too long. I think seeing Cara yesterday gives me the strength—the fortitude—to move forward now, instead of looking back toward the past and remaining engulfed in all the lies. I think that’s it.

I have this.

I can do this.

I can let him go.

I have to let him go.

The words fly through my head at an alarming rate. I clasp my hands tightly together in order to keep myself from falling apart. I focus on breathing. I close my eyes. I wait.

Eventually, I hear him stir. The sheets rustle and I look over at him, just as he opens his eyes.

A few minutes go by where we just stare at each other. His face creases with pain. I put a glass of water with a straw near his lips and help him sit up.

“Drink this.” I sound pissed.

He groans. I spy pain and remorse in his handsome face. I decide that’s okay.

“I’m a jerk,” he says.

“Yes.”

“Where’s everyone at?” Linc asks as he weakly leans back against the pillow and sighs deep.

I put down the glass with a sharp rap. It startles him, and I check myself and my temper for a few minutes. I can’t even breathe right away. After a few seconds, I sigh. “I sent Marla and Charlie on their way. Their flight leaves SFI at midnight for the Caribbean. The doctors say you’re going to be fine. It’s just a mild concussion and one hell of a headache. Already, huh?” I don’t wait for his answer. “They want to keep you here overnight for observation, but you’re going to be fine. The wedding reception ended about the time you hit the floor. Charlie did CPR. He saved your fucking life. You might want to thank him for that. Good thing they do CPR training early in med school; right? You. Almost. Died. You’re weren’t breathing. They can’t explain why. You hit your head when you hit the floor.”

“After Rob swung at me,” he says, managing to look helpless and adorable at the same time.

I clench my fists at my side to keep myself from reaching out to him.
End it. End this.

“We’re done with Rob.”

“I wasn’t fucking him. I wasn’t engaged to him,” Linc says.

I cover my face with one arm and inadvertently wipe at my eyes. My breathing gets jagged. I feel like I’m going to have a panic attack right in front of him. I lower my arm and gasp for air only to find him looking properly chastised when he hears me.

“Tally.”

“No. Don’t say anything.”

We stare at each other for a long time.

“You scared the hell out of me. This is me…
scared
.” I hold up my hand in front of him, and it shakes uncontrollably. Tears come. “I can’t do this anymore.” I turn away, wipe at my face and attempt to summon the earlier anger for him again.

“Tally,” he says bleakly. “Look at me.”

“Rob Thorn has been dealt with
by me
. Nika went back to Seattle. Her purpose has been served. Right, Linc?” I whip my hand through the air for emphasis about that one. “I called Kimberley and she’s handling the press as we speak.” I pause with a sudden need for air and space from him. “Yes, you’re a jerk.” I brush at my face again and step further back away from him.

The dress gets in the way.
The damn dress.
It swishes between my legs and I almost trip with my sudden need to get as far as away from him as his private hospital room will allow. I begin to pace. The dress is this red chiffon thing that Marla had us all spend a small fortune on. Mine is off the rack because I was so late to the party in even being a part of this event. It’s a size too big and there wasn’t time to take it in. So now, it’s practically falling off of me—what with all the frantic antics from earlier—when I raced to Linc’s side and managed to push Rob off of me at about the same time. It’s torn on one side because Rob had been holding on to me so tight that when I dropped down to the floor to rescue Linc, it ripped at the seams at the right shoulder.

Now, I’m enraged at the improper functions of the fucking dress. I slip it off my left shoulder and tear it in two strips and re-tie it tighter so it will stay on. Linc watches this sudden dress-making ingenuity from me in utter amazement, but I think he’s afraid to say anything more now.

As well, he should be.

I take a deep breath. “Of course, this isn’t going as planned. The only time things come together like they’re supposed to is when I’m on stage. But life isn’t a stage; now, is it, Linc? Unless, of course, what you were discussing with Marla was meant for public consumption just for the drama alone.”

He dips his head and looks away from me. “I just wanted…”

“To be with me?” I ask sharply.

“Yes.”

“It cuts both ways,
baby
. You don’t get to push me out of your life and then expect me to come back into it.
You chose baseball.
Live with that. And quit interfering in my life. I had a nice chat with Nika. Really, Linc? You’ve been spying on me. And you keep a list of who I fuck? Why? So you can reference it later?”

“Tally, I wanted this all to go so differently—”

“With this?” I slam down the black velvet ring box they found in the pocket of his tuxedo jacket onto the feeding tray next to his hospital bed. He turns a little white. “What? Were you going to ask me between the rehearsal dinner and the wedding? Thinking you had it all worked out?
Really
? You’re not even
done
with Nika. She goes to all your games now. She knows all your stats. She works out for you during the season but not so much during the off-season. Is that it? She’s a great fuck when she’s recording your stats on your personal clip board and the way she follows you around to every damn town in America like a devoted fan girl. Yeah, she’s great at keeping you warm at night and fucking your brains out when you need it on the road, but not so much when she’s not doing all those things for you in the off-season.
Right, Linc?”

I’ve hit a nerve.
Some of it was stuff I was only guessing at, but now he won’t even look at me.

“Tally, it’s not like that.”

“Don’t
lie
to me.”

“What are you most afraid of now?” he asks.

“The same things I’ve always been afraid of. They’re still out there, Linc. Falling. Failing. Losing. And now, you. I’m afraid of you—maybe,
you
—most of all.”

“You can’t outrun the fears. You have to face them. You have to face
me
,” he says.

“No. I don’t.”

There’s a tipping point with rage. It’s an all-consuming flame. It doesn’t discern what’s in its path nor determine what’s worth saving. I’m blinded by fury, and I go too far in the next instant.

“I don’t want this. You shouldn’t want this. Marla’s right. You did this. You chose baseball and the life you wanted for yourself a long time ago. You finished us…a long time ago. I want to be free of you, to make my own life. We’re done, Linc. Don’t call me. Don’t think about me. Don’t love me anymore. I don’t love you anymore. You’ve killed it. There’s nothing left of us. It’s time to move on. We both need to…move on. We both knew that a long time ago.”

Now, I can’t even look at him. In the next fifteen seconds, I’ve made it through the door. Part of my mind registers that he hasn’t said anything, which should really tell me all I need to know. It’s possible that he doesn’t love me. Maybe he never did. If he knew about Cara and what I did, he’d hate me for sure. There’s no future for us. I guess we both made sure of that in our own selfish ways a long time ago.

I had this.

I did this.

I have to let him go.

I don’t stop long enough to examine why it hurts so much to finally let him go.

* * *

The flight back to New York is uneventful. I watch Rob go off to work and class from the safety of the Starbucks across the street from our building. I move out in a matter of hours, leave his ring on the kitchen counter, and put everything of mine in storage. Sasha Belmont accommodates my urgent request to leave early for Milan and within seventy-two hours, I’m on a plane to Italy.

I text Marla with my new cell number and ask her not to share it with anyone, especially Lincoln Presley or Rob Thorn. The only other person, besides my family, that knows how to remain in touch with me is Allaire Tremblay. It’s not that I expect to hear from her, but it feels like the right thing to do after seeing her doing so well with Cara.

I won’t return to the States until after Moscow. I think by then I won’t be as pissed as I am now.

The anger fuels me.

The critics love me.

And that’s all that matters to me now.

After a long while, I realize that I’ve become more like Lincoln Presley because all I really do care about now is ballet. Nothing else matters to me anymore.

I let them go. I let them all go.

What I didn’t expect to discover is how much it hurts when I do this.

* * * *