Nothing Else Matters (8 page)

"Are you sure you don't want to go to a doctor or something?" Stu asked, dragging me out of my thoughts. He leaned on the wall across from my bed with his hands jammed in his black pants and just stared at me.

"Doctor? Why?"

 "I don't know. You seem ... different lately. Maybe you should get a physical or something."

"Thanks for looking out for me, little buddy, but I'm fine."

I could feel him staring at me while I texted Amber. I told her we needed to talk and asked if she wanted to do dinner. Maybe by then I could figure out what I could say that wouldn’t break her heart.

"Okay," he said finally, walking to the door. Before leaving he said, "You don't have to be superman, you know. No matter what Sam expects of you."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're my hero either way."

Stu could be so sullen and sentimental sometimes. He always read more into situations than was really there. I think wearing black all the time made him subconsciously depressed.

"Stu, maybe you're the one that should see a doctor," I said while shuffling through my closet for a T-shirt and fresh khakis.

He shook his head and sighed. "I'm off to Oliver's house for band practice. Call me if you need anything."

I hopped in the shower and tried to think of a way to get out of training with Sam. I really needed to talk to Reyna. If I let too much time pass she would convince herself to never see me again. She'd stick to it too. She was that stubborn sometimes. All I could come up with for an excuse was to tell Sam I needed to finish my application to Cal State Fullerton. They were my first choice for a baseball school. Fortunately, Sam was okay with this. She would let nothing get in the way of me getting into the best school.

It wasn't too hard to find Reyna. She'd spent every Sunday for the past three months volunteering for the Obama campaign who'd set up headquarters in the Lewis' Remount Ave. Community center.

"What are you doing here?" she asked not taking her eyes off of the computer screen in front of her.

"I think we should talk." I pulled up a chair, sat down next to her and had to resist the urge to caress her mocha colored face.

"I'm
kinda
busy right now, Scottie. I'm answering email and debunking voting myths. Can you believe people actually think that you're allowed to vote on the fifth if you can't get off work on the fourth?"

"Reyna, don't do this," I whispered so the volunteer at the next terminal wouldn't hear me.

"Do what?" she said cheerily, continuing to focus on her computer screen.

"Don't avoid this. Something very special happened between us and we need to talk about it. I can't stop thinking about you."

She stopped typing and looked at me. "Scottie, we just got caught up in the moment. It was a mistake. I'm willing to let it go and forget about it so you can go back to your girlfriend," she said in a forced whisper.

"I don't want to go back to my girlfriend. She means nothing to me."

Reyna shook her head. "You have no idea who you're dealing with do you?" She typed a few buttons quickly then turned to look at me. "You're dating Amber Freaking Sullivan. That's exactly what everyone calls her. Amber Freaking Sullivan. I would say she was the most insane person in the world, but I've met your mother. Do you know how she stole you away from your last girlfriend?"

I shook my head. What was she talking about?

"Emily got drunk at a party, passed out and Amber Freaking Sullivan shaved her head. Emily was so embarrassed she transferred to Charleston Collegiate."

I closed my eyes and thought back to the beginning of the school year. I think I did remember something like that happening, but I couldn't be sure. I was probably drunk too.

"So what, are you saying you're afraid of Amber?"

Reyna rolled her eyes then went back to typing on the computer. "No I'm not afraid of Amber." She said this as if I had asked her to stand on her head and whistle Dixie. Nothing could be more ridiculous. "I'm just saying Amber's not going to let you go easily and I don't want a whole bunch of drama in my life when you're just going to forget about me in a month anyway."

"Reyna, that's not how it is with you. You're different."

She turned to me and said, "Look Scottie, you're an awesome best friend. I love joking around with you and talking to you on the phone all hours of the night. I love going to clubs with you and watching you do your pathetic white boy moves. But we will not work as boyfriend and girlfriend. I know your M.O. You've had fourteen different girlfriends since we've been in high school. Fourteen."

I leaned so close to her I could smell a cherry cough drop on her breath and said, "But none of them have been you." I gave her a peck on the cheek then stormed out of the community center. I had to prove to her that I was serious. And the first step in that meant getting rid of Amber Freaking Sullivan.

I'd spent hours going over what I wanted to say to Amber. Nothing I came up with sounded right. I needed space, I needed to concentrate on my sports, and I needed time to think about our future. None of those was even remotely true. But I couldn't tell her the truth that I thought she was a psycho and I had in fallen in love with someone else.

I tried to think back to how I had ended my previous relationships. Either I used one of the previously mentioned trite lines or the relationship kind of died a peaceful death all its own.

This was different. I had to do this right if I wanted Reyna. But when Amber opened the door that evening when I went to pick her up, I knew this was going to be the hardest break of all time.

  "Do you like it?" she asked, patting her newly dyed hair. "I did it for you. I know you prefer blondes."

  "You dyed your hair for me?"

  "Oh, it wasn't that big of a deal. My hair wasn't that dark. It only took three hours."

  "You spent three hours dyeing your hair for me?"

  "Well, I want to make you happy. I want you to know that this is more than just some high school romance for me. I'm in love with you, Scottie. This is for keeps."

  "Whoa."

  Amber grabbed my hand and pulled me into her house.

  "And I know you're serious about me, too. We've been dating for sixty three days. That's five days longer than any of your previous girlfriends."

  "Whoa. You've counted?"

  "Of course. Every girl wants to get past the two month mark with you." She pulled me into the dining room where a veritable feast had been spread out.

  "What's this?"

  "Well, I thought about what you said on Friday night and I finally realized that you weren't trying to break up with me. You were trying to take our relationship to the next level. You wanted to meet my family. So tonight we're having dinner with my parents."

  "Parents?"

Amber's house was located just around the corner from the celebrated Rainbow Row in Charleston, South Carolina. From their living room you could see Fort Sumter where the initiating shots of the Civil War were blasted. I would've given anything to be able to jump into the frigid Atlantic and swim out to that island instead of sitting at the table across from Amber's stiff parents and her bratty little sister. I wasn't intimidated by the fact that her father was a judge or that the plates on the table were probably worth more than my car. What made my throat tighten and hands shake was the fact that Mr. Sullivan had asked me five different ways in about three minutes what my intentions were with his daughter. Meanwhile, Amber smiled at me like a lovesick mute who offered no assistance in the form of diverting her father's attention from me.

"So who are you voting for in the election?" was his first question that didn't directly pertain to his daughter. Instead of being relieved at the Amber reprieve, I was once again panic stricken as I realized I hadn't made a final decision. But judging from the McCain-Palin sign in his front yard, I was pretty sure he didn't want to hear that. Or else he'd spend the rest of the evening trying to sway me to his side.

"Peter, not at the dinner table." Mrs. Sullivan’s words were like a life preserver. I would have kissed her if I didn't think Amber would jump across the table and beat down her own mother in a jealous rage.

"What?" Mr. Sullivan asked innocently of his wife as he looked up from his soup appetizer. "I can't ask the boy his opinion? He sure better have an opinion by now. The election is in two days. You are eighteen aren't you?" he asked me.

"Yes, sir," I said, reaching for water to quench my suddenly parched throat.

"You registered?" he continued, dabbing his Yosemite Sam moustache with a napkin.

"Yes, sir."

"Peter, really? Can't you ask him a question that's a little less volatile?" said Mrs. Sullivan who was a dead ringer for
Vanna
White.

Meanwhile, six-year-old Crystal kicked me under the table then whispered, "You better vote for McCain. Obama is a Sofa list."

"Socialist, honey. Obama is a socialist,"
Vanna
, I mean, Mrs. Sullivan corrected her daughter.

"That's my girl," Mr. Sullivan said before hi-fiving Crystal.

"Why don't you ask him where's he's going to college? He has so many schools after him, he can go anywhere he wants," Amber said, gushing so much I half expected her soup to explode out of the top of her head.

"Where do you intend to matriculate?"

"Um, I'm leaning toward Cal State Fullerton. I'd love to play baseball there."

"California? I don't want my little girl living amongst all those liberals. You know they let gays get married there?"

"Excuse me … what?" I said nearly choking on the spoonful of soup I'd tried to get down. Who the hell invited Amber to California? Was she really planning on going to any school I went to?

"I know. It's ridiculous. Men marrying men. Women kissing on women. It just
ain't
right." He misunderstood my confusion.

"God made Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve," Crystal volunteered while folding her arms smugly.

"Amen, baby," Mr. Sullivan said, hi-fiving his daughter again. "Anyway, you and Amber should go to a school right here in South Carolina."

"May I use your restroom?" I said, standing abruptly. This had gone too far. I couldn't take anymore.

"I'll show him where it is." Amber leaped from her seat, grabbed my hand and led me toward the family room.

Once we turned a corner, Amber flung her arms about my neck and planted a kiss on my lips. "I love you so much, Scottie," she said when she let me up for air. "I'm so happy we worked through our problems. We're going to be together forever." She kissed me again, and then skipped off toward the dining room.

I slipped into the bathroom and texted Stu.

Five minutes later, as a salmon dish was being placed in front of us, my cell phone rang. I answered it and feigned shock and dismay to what I heard on the phone although all my little brother said to me was "You owe me for this. I was in the middle of a really awesome guitar solo."

 "I'm so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan, but apparently my brother missed the last bus and he's stranded in North Charleston. I have to pick him up."

After a few handshakes and a couple of reluctant hugs, I was released from that prison-like hell without further interrogation. Thankfully, they weren't bus riding type people and didn't realize that the Charleston Area bus system didn't stop running until 10:50 on Sundays.