Other Broken Things (22 page)

“My choice is for you to go back to your room this instant and forget about this dinner,” Dad says.

“That wasn't an option for you. That's out of your control.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ. Enough with all the AA platitudes. I'll control what I want. You are
my
daughter. This is
my
house. I paid for the car you're about to leave in.”

I pull my key ring out and slide the car key off of it. “Actually, Joe's coming to get me. You can have the car back.”

His mouth drops open. “I'll call the police if he steps one foot on my property.”

“And say what? That's he's taking your completely legal daughter out for dinner? Good luck with that, Dad.”

Before he can argue more, say anything more hurtful, I push past him and walk out the door. He screams my name but thankfully doesn't come after me. When I glance back, I see Mom's hand on his arm, tugging him inside. I walk to the end of our driveway and take deep breaths as I wait for Joe.

It's been way too long since I've seen him. I know I look a little different. I've been working hard at the gym and my old body is almost back. I've earned myself a place in the sparring ring twice a week; the other days I'm building muscle, speed, power. I wore a dress even though my legs are freezing because I wanted Joe to see me at my best.

By the time he pulls up, my heart is dancing in my chest.

“Nice legs,” he says as he pops out and comes around my side to open the door for me.

“Thanks,” I say, and actually blush, like an idiot. There's a small gift on my seat and I shake it when he slips back into the truck. “Too small for cigarettes.”

He nods. “Yeah. I heard you were off those with the training. Good for you.”

“Yep. My lungs are super grateful. And I'm almost at a six-minute mile.”

“Impressive.”

He smiles and a lump forms in my throat. “I've missed you, Joe.”

“Happy birthday, Natalie.”

I tear open the packaging and pull out a box. “This looks an awful lot like jewelry.”

He glances forward and raises a shoulder. “Yeah. Well. It's something like that.”

My breath is coming in shallow bursts, and it feels like I'm in round two of a pretty intense fight. My hands shake as I open the box. It's a necklace with a three-month AA coin on it.

“I know you're still a few days away. But I got this one early. I'm proud of you.”

I fasten the necklace on and touch the lettering on the coin with my thumb.
To thine own self be true.
I lean to kiss him and he turns so I just get his cheek. “Thanks,” I whisper, and sit back.

He pulls his truck onto the road and heads toward town. “Where are we going?” he asks after a too-long, too-awkward silence.

“Where do you think?” I grin when he looks at me. “Red Lobster.”

He laughs and all the strangeness of a few moments ago disappears. And I think maybe we can be us again. I reach for his hand and he lets me take it. He squeezes and I squeeze back.

“I got a job offer,” he says after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“Oh yeah? Another contract? Around here?”

“No. To go work for someone else.”

I drop his hand because his voice sounds funny and a big warning gong is going off in my head. “That doesn't seem like it's your style.”

“It might be a good change.”

He pulls off the highway ramp and a million questions are bouncing around my head. But I force myself to ask the most important one. “Is it around here then?”

He turns into the Red Lobster lot and parks before he answers me. He clenches the wheel and finally says, “No, Natalie. It's in the Philippines. They're rebuilding a lot of houses out there after the typhoon. Lots of aid money has been poured into the country and they want to do more eco-friendly building.”

My mouth drops open. “The Philippines? For real?”

He nods.

“For how long?”

“A year, maybe more. It depends.”

“But you didn't give me a chance. You didn't give us a chance.”

He gets out of the truck and comes around to my side. “There can't be an us.”

I shake my head. “Yes. There can. I'm three months sober. And you're sober. And I'm boxing and I'm going to graduate because my mom and Jerry rode my ass until I made everything up to Mrs. Hunt, and I swear to God we can be a real thing. We can.”

“You're eighteen,” he says.

“Exactly.”

“You've got your whole life—”

“No. Don't say I've got my whole life ahead of me. Don't pretend you're a fucking old man. That is
not
how this is supposed to go. I want this. I want you. And I'm fighting for it. Now man the fuck up and tell me what you want.”

He reaches for my face and cups my cheek and I think I've got him. I think he understands and that he's there with me and he thinks it'll be worth it. But then he says, “I want you to stay here while I go to the Philippines. I want you to box. I want you to go to college. I want you to be sober. I want you to have everything.”

My heart pounds too fast, anger searing through me. “Everything but you, you fucking coward.”

I push away from him and march into the restaurant. He doesn't follow and I'm actually glad of it. I pull out my phone and call my mom.

“Natalie. Are you okay?” Her voice sounds weird, sort of sad and frantic all at once.

“Yeah. I'm fine. I'm at the Red Lobster. Can you come get me?”

“Where's Joe?”

“The fucking Philippines.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I'll explain when you get here. Just please come.”

“I'll be there in fifteen minutes.”

I hang up and go into the bathroom. My perfectly done hair that took me forever to do, my cute dress, my makeup applied so careful so Joe wouldn't see the bruises on my face from fighting. It was all for nothing. I feel like my heart has been ripped out and stomped on. He never even fucking gave us a chance. The only other time I've felt remotely like this was when I showed up last year to the gym drunk and Jerry told me I was a waste of space and talent.

When I go back out to the parking lot, Joe is gone but Mom's car is pulling up. I see her anxious face and I burst into tears. She bolts out of her door as soon as the car stops and comes to wrap her arms around me. I'm a wreck, sobbing so hard, babbling and not making any sense. She smoothes her hand up and down my back, then leads me to the passenger seat.

By the time she gets in on her side, I've composed myself enough to say, “He didn't want me.”

“Nonsense,” she answers. “He wants you to be happy. That's why he let you go.”

I shake my head, but I can't answer. I can only look out the window and feel myself shatter into a million pieces. We're almost home before Mom says anything else.

“I've asked your father to move out.”

My head whips around. “What?”

She nods and now I see the tearstains on her cheeks, but also a spark of fire in her eyes. “It was time, Natalie. Way past time.”

I mirror her nod. “Was it because of me?”

She shakes her head and I know she's telling the truth. “No. It was because of me. Because of what I want. We're not on the same road anymore, he and I. You're going a different path and he thinks I'm going to follow him on his. But I won't. I'm done following. It's time to make my own path.”

“I'm impressed,” I say, and I mean it. “Do you have a game plan?”

She grins and it's like something very real has happened to her and I've sort of missed it over the past few months. Like I've been so focused on training and staying sober and catching up at school and wishing for Joe that I didn't see how Mom grew a spine. “Of course I do. I've been asked to run the holiday events for the village.”

“What?” I almost choke on my laughter because of course, of course she has, and it's fucking perfect.

“Well, the village doesn't just do the Holiday Walk. They have summer events, a fall festival, and several sidewalk sales and art fairs. It's a big responsibility.”

“Oh my God, Mom. I know. That's huge. I mean, really huge. I'm so proud of you.”

She nods and beams. “It's a lot of work. I talked to your father about it and he was completely against it. But I think I'm ready to take it on. I'll have other staff at the Village Chamber of Commerce to help me, but I'll be in charge of it.”

I squeeze her shoulder. “I'm really proud of you.”

She nods and looks at the coin on my neck. “I'm really proud of you too, Natalie.”

It's my first real fight
since I've started boxing again and I'm nervous as hell. It doesn't mean anything, from a technical perspective, but it could get me noticed when they're looking at up-and-comers to profile in the amateur women's boxing league press. Which could mean a whole shitload of good things for Jerry and me and the gym. I've got a new passbook from USA Boxing, so I'm official, which suddenly feels like a way bigger deal than I ever imagined.

And I want that for me. I can say that now and kind of own it. Kathy's helped a lot. Helped me figure out that it's okay to have a dream, to believe in yourself, to expect more than a shit sandwich. In the same way that she's helped me realize it's okay to be disappointed when shitty things happen.

Mom's next to me, awkwardly trying to massage my shoulders before Jerry shoos her away. Dad has been in his own apartment for a few weeks. He asked me to dinner last week, which was fucking excruciating and more a lecture than anything else, but I went and stood up for myself and told him I wouldn't see him again if it was going to be the same old crap. I owned up to the things I screwed up and waited for him to own up to his shit, but he didn't. Typical. I don't have a lot of hope for us, but it's Tenth Step stuff and I'm trying to believe it'll get better.

I'm legit at the Eleventh Step now, and I guess I'm proud of myself. In the same way I'm proud of my boxing. I'm cut, lean, and solid, and I don't even give a shit who at school says something about it. Even Mrs. Hunt is being nice—well, niceish. She paired me up for a class project with a basketball player named Troy who actually did half the work for our oral report. So now I either have lunch with Camille and her friends or I sit with the basketball players, and even though they sometimes make pricky comments about girls, they think it's cool that I fight and don't give me crap about it. Yesterday, for the first time, I let Brent sit with us too. He mostly talked to the guys, but I got it and was grateful for it because we're probably going to be okay.

My basketball friends are in the audience tonight; so are Camille and two of her friends, along with Kathy, and my mom, and Kara from the pancake breakfasts. My community service hours finished two weeks ago, but I'm still helping because Kara can't fucking figure out syrup to save her life.

The ref signals me and this Hispanic girl named Silvia to the center of the ring and gives us a spiel about a clean fight and how long the rounds last. I bump gloves with her and then I'm in my corner waiting for the bell and it's like everything I've been working so hard for comes down to this moment.

The bell rings and it's a shot to the heart. I feel like I don't weigh anything, and I'm out in the ring dancing on my feet and it's amazing. My fists are moving so fast Silvia can't land a solid punch because I'm lighter than air and she can't touch me.

Every punch hits its mark and she is crunched up and her guard is down and within three rounds it's over. Jerry is pounding me on my back and my mom is screaming in the best kind of way because it's not fear, it's total excitement. And even Kara is on her feet applauding me, though she looks totally confused, and I wave at everyone, then look for Kathy, who is farther down the bench. But my breath freezes in my lungs because next to her is Joe. A sob bursts from me and I want to claw through the crowd to get to him. He's smiling and I'm smiling. And Jesus, there is no better moment in the world than this one.

*  *  *

After I shower and hug my mom and thank everyone for coming, I go outside to find Joe. God, please let him fucking be here. I scan the parking lot and he's standing by his truck. I race over to him and leap into his arms. He oomphs when he catches me because, I've forgotten, I'm solid now. Strong and packed with muscles, so I'm heavier than I look.

“You came,” I breathe, and hug him tight.

He laughs and hugs me back, then puts me down. “I did. Kathy told me about it. You were amazing. You are amazing.”

I grin. “I can't believe you came.”

He smiles. “I wanted to see you.”

My heart is a hummingbird. I'm almost light-headed with how good it feels to be like this, here with him. How good his voice sounds and his face looks. How much I want to slide into him and fit the two of us together all over again.

My grin breaks into a high-beam version. “I hope you aren't repelled by my fighting. I mean, not every guy would be into a girl who could kick his ass.”

He nods. “True. But I'm not sure you could kick my ass.”

I unzip my hoodie and show him my arms. “Have you seen these pipes? Did you see what I did to that girl in there?”

“Point taken.”

The space between us shifts and he's staring so hard at my face I want to drop my gaze. I'm sure I have cuts and bruises. Not from Silvia, but from the sparring I did this week in preparation for this. But I keep my head high and let him drink me in the same way I'm doing to him. I count to ten in my mind and relax my breathing.

“So,” I start. “You're here. And before I get too excited about what this means, I'm going to ask why you aren't in the Philippines.”