December 23, last year

 

It had been three full weeks since I’d seen Etta.  I was still visiting the clinic for rehab appointments, but I scheduled them for the times I knew she’d be teaching or working in the lab.  At first, being in the clinic was awkward after our big blow up, but after a few days, it settled down. 

I chose to avoid her, knowing full well that I was putting my rehab at risk.  I even requested that she have nothing to do with my case.  I needed time, time away from her.  Andre warned that without her expertise, things would move incredibly slowly, which was true.  I made double the progress in one week with her than I have made in three weeks with her minions.  But at least I was making progress.

Despite the slow progress I was making, I was glad I had walked away from Etta.  Jake, Ashley and even Mom had encouraged me to reach out to Etta and tell her the truth.  Jake offered again to do it for me, but I made him promise to stay out of it. 

Mom finally admitted that Etta told her at their ill-fated lunch date six years ago what she thought she saw.  The reason they argued was because Mom defended my honor.  I couldn’t fully understand why Mom never told me this news.  She tried to tell me that it was because she didn’t want to upset me.  C’mon.  Mom never worried about upsetting me a day in my life.  She believed in hard truths.  I think the real reason is because she feared it might be true.  I mean, what mother wants to find out that the son she raised was a royal douche bag?  I really couldn’t even be angry at her for keeping her mouth shut.  No.  That I reserved exclusively for Etta.

I’d had a lot of time to think about things.  I had looked back at my entire relationship with Etta and realized one thing:  she pretty much jerked me around the entire time.  Flirted with me, made me fall for her, moved in with me, tantalized me, only to push me away repeatedly.  I convinced myself that she was protecting herself because she didn’t know where I stood, but honestly, if she didn’t know how I felt about her, she was so very stupid.  I’d proven to her time and time again how much I cared about her.  Even when I finally did open my heart to her, she shut me down. 

And she did it repeatedly.

And in the end, she believed I was a colossal asshole.  Nice.

So you know what?

Screw her!

I really needed to cut my losses.  Move on.  Find someone else. 

There was a problem with that.  I.  Still.  Loved.  Her. 

When it comes to loving someone for ten years, I think it becomes almost like part of the DNA or something.  I can’t remember what it was like living without loving her. 

I tried before to get along without her, but then, I had baseball to keep me company.  When I first began playing, I will admit that I did get swept up in the sea of women who surround ball players.  It wasn’t like a different woman every night, but there were a few at first, maybe like ten the first year.  I slowed way down really quickly.  When I got particularly lonely, I did partake in a random hook up here and there, probably two a year, but it always felt wrong.  That hollow emptiness just got hollower and emptier with each girl.  I felt like I was betraying something that had never existed. 

Before Ciara, the underwear supermodel, I felt especially lonely after a two-year dry spell, so I briefly dated one woman, the first I had seriously dated since high school.  Carmen was sweet and fun, until she started talking about marriage and commitment around the tenth date.  We were finished quickly after that when I told her I wasn’t going to marry her, especially any time soon.  Turns out she just wanted to be a baseball player’s wife.  She ended up marrying our third baseman less than six months later.  Nothing like being around a guy who knew full well that I fucked his wife.  Awkward didn’t begin to cover it.  It almost made it worth my injury to not have to deal with the way she tried to rub her happy marriage in my face like I’d be jealous.  Honestly, I was happy that she found what she wanted, as long as it wasn’t with me.

Then came Ciara, whose real name was Cindy.  Blonde with big, soulful, crystal blue eyes.  Sweet and driven.  Way more mature than her age.  She knew about Etta before I even told her.  No one told her anything; she just knew I loved someone from my past.  We met at some benefit, I forget which one, and talked all night.  Some paparazzi took our picture together, and our “relationship” snowballed from there.  Anytime she had a function where she needed an escort, I went.  It was her agent’s idea to have us appear to be dating.  I used the relationship for my personal gain as well.  At least it briefly got Mom off my back. 

I liked Ciara’s company just fine, but to be honest, I did have a problem with the age difference; she was barely twenty.  There was no way I could sleep with her.  Plus, her MMA-fighting real boyfriend, the one who her agent thought would damage her wholesome image, did intimidate me a little.  I mean, at first he did; we actually became friends, well enough for him to recommended a tattoo artist for me.  Once Ciara and I “broke up,” it kind of ended our friendship. 

I did get a hell of a tattoo artist out of the deal.  Tater’s take on the design idea I brought to him went above and beyond my expectations.  Except that now, I was having a little tattoo remorse in the wake of my latest drama.  I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror if I was shirtless. 

One of the stipulations of the tattoo was that it be totally undetectable with a shirt on.  It wraps from my left shoulder to my chest, snakes down my left side and ends on my left hip.  Why the left?  It’s Etta’s side.  I’ve had seven sessions total, not in a row, because it hurt like a sonofabitch.  I have added to it periodically, which was all part of the plan.  At first glance, it’s an intricate tribal design, similar to the design of Samoan tattoos.  In fact, no one can tell, unless they’re looking for it, what it actually is. 

The question is do I really regret getting it?  Right now, yes.  Why?  Because I did the big tattoo taboo.  I tattooed Etta’s name on me.  Permanently.  But again, no one can tell it says that.  Not even Jake knows.  That’s the beauty of Tater’s design.  He took the idea from the old sketch I kept for eight years and ran with it.  He’s a friggin genius, despite the fact that he has that unfortunate moniker, and he was known for his discretion, a necessity when a person is famous. 

The plan was to finish the tattoo after my season was over, but of course, since my injury, I haven’t been back to L.A.  I called Tater in October and explained my predicament.  We postponed things until I could make it back, except he called me last week and said he would be in Houston for Christmas.  He offered to meet me at a buddy’s shop later this week to finish the tattoo.  I initially agreed, but as I looked in the mirror fresh out of the shower, contemplating the stupidity of the whole thing, I thought about cancelling.

I shook off the feeling and remembered my plans with Miles this evening.  I really needed to be in a better mood when I met up with him.  Since our trip to the zoo, Miles and I kept in pretty regular contact.  He would text or call periodically just to talk about Texans games or various other things.  Therefore, since one of the surprises I had arranged for Etta was three 50 yard line club-level tickets to yesterday’s football game for her, Miles and me, I figured it didn’t mean I couldn’t still take her brother.  So Miles and I went with Jake instead. 

This was one of those times that being famous really rocked.  I could do things like call in “favors” for occasions like this and not worry what it cost, enjoying pro football games in style.  We all had a great time, and although I had a hard time with the fact that Miles was the spitting image of Etta, he was a pretty cool kid.  And he never asked about what happened between his sister and me.  I was worried he would.

So when Miles texted me and asked if I would meet him at a Mexican restaurant close to his parents’ house in Pearland for dinner, I, of course, agreed, after he assured me that Etta would not be there.  He said he wanted to take me out to dinner as a thank you for the game.  No way was I going to let him pay, but he didn’t need to know that until later.  I really did like the kid.

I walked into the restaurant, actually looking forward to the meal, not just because it had been a while since I’d eaten here.  That is until I rounded the corner and saw who else he had invited.  Not only had he lied about Etta being there, but Emily was there as well.  Both women sat, arms crossed, glaring daggers at their little brother.  I thought of walking away, but honestly, I was a little more than curious about what the devious little shit of a thirteen year old had in mind by bringing us all together.  Plus, I thought the kid might need to be rescued. 

“What did you do, Miles?” I asked.  Both women startled and looked up at me.

“You invited HIM, too?” Etta asked, raising her voice.  People started to stare.  She stood to leave, but I blocked her path. 

“Don’t embarrass him further, Etta,” I instructed calmly.  I was more than a little irritated at the little shit myself, but I kind of felt bad for the kid.  He looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.  “Please sit back down and see what this is about.”

Etta never looked at me, but she sat back down.  I slid into the chair next to Miles.  “Whatever this is, it’s probably not going to work out like you wanted it to, Miles,” I whispered.  I faced Emily and smiled weakly.  “Emily, it’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, hi, Nate,” Emily nodded.  “How’s the knee?”

“Not progressing like I want it to,” I looked toward Etta, who studied her menu.  “But that’s another story.”  I turned back toward Miles.  “Now, do you care to explain why you have brought us all here together, or do I leave and allow your sisters to rip you to shreds?”

“Hi, I’m Trish, your server for this evening.  What can I get you to drink?” 

While everyone gave their drink orders, I noticed Miles looked a little more panicked.  I asked the waitress if we could go ahead and order to give the kid some time to gather his courage.  This restaurant was always Etta’s and Emily’s favorite years ago, so I knew they would already know what they wanted.  Etta brought me here almost every time we picked up Miles together when he was little; she always ordered the same thing.  She didn’t disappoint this time, either.

When Trish sashayed away, I turned back to Miles.  “Now, spill it.”

“Okay,” he started.  “I figured I’d get you all together to talk.  I know that whatever caused you  two to stop talking,” he pointed to Emily and Etta, “happened when Nate left.  Yesterday, Jake told me that this all stemmed from a case of mistaken identity…”

“Wait, you talked to Jake yesterday?” I asked.

“Well, yeah.  No one tells me anything around my family, so, when you went to restroom, I asked Jake if he knew what happened.  That’s what he said, mistaken identity, and it’s all he said.  So, when I got home last night, I thought about it.  What’s the one thing that would make Etta so mad at Emily that she wouldn’t speak to her for so long, and what would make her so mad at you that she wouldn’t contact you for the same amount of time?  Then I figured it out.  She thought Emily hooked up with you.”

“Miles,” Etta seethed through gritted teeth, “enough!”

“Hey,” I said.  “He’s not wrong.”  I turned toward Miles.  “You’re pretty smart, kid, although you really shouldn’t be getting in the middle of all this.”

“Wait,” Emily interrupted and turned toward Etta.  “You think I had sex with Nate?  That’s what this whole eight-year freeze-out was about?”  She threw her hands up.  “What the hell, Etta?”

Etta turned the death glare on Emily.  “I saw you!  On the couch with him, right after he tried to profess his love to me.  You, with him!”  She pointed to me.

“Holy shit, Eddie!  You saw me having sex with Jake, not Nate.”

Nice time for Trish to deliver our drinks.  But Emily didn’t let it slow her down, although she did lower her voice.

“You mean all this time, the reason you didn’t speak to me was because you thought I would betray you that way?  You never said anything?  You never even asked me!”  Emily took a drink of her soda.  “Well that just friggin blows.  What kind of person do you think I am, anyway?  Seriously, Eddie?”

“It was… Jake?” Etta whispered in disbelief. 

“Yes,” I said casually.  “It was Jake.”  She turned toward me, the look of shock on her face was almost comical.  I took a chip and dipped it in green sauce.  “You didn’t even consider that possibility at the time, did you?”  I leaned forward and bit the chip.  “You wasted all that time angry and upset when a simple question would have cleared this up years ago.”  I leaned back in my chair and turned toward Miles, whose expression was not much different than Etta’s.  “I’m betting she didn’t even tell Beth what she thought she saw, because if she had, she’d have found out that I was with Chris the entire time, out searching for her.  Nope.  She never talked about it.”  I finished my chip and smiled calmly.  “See, Miles, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but your sister is pretty stubborn and would prefer to believe the worst and keep it to herself rather than talk about it to anyone.  She would rather carry a grudge and avoid the conflict than have it out with her twin.  She would rather be miserable in her own beliefs, which were all based on one big lie,” I locked eyes with Etta, “than ever risk the possibility of happiness for fear that her heart might get broken.”

“And still my heart got annihilated,” Etta whispered.

“Yeah,” I stood up.  “But not by me.  You can thank yourself for that one.  And in the process, you demolished two other hearts.”  I leaned over and whispered.  “And I’m not sure the damage can be fixed.”  I nudged Miles.  “C’mon, kid.  Let’s get our food to go and you and I can get out of here.”  I threw some bills on the table.  “It seems your sisters have some things to discuss.”

He stood and helped me find Trish to box up our orders.  Once we were in the car, he spoke. 

“I’m sorry, Nate.” 

“It’s not your fault, Miles.  Honestly, without you, this might never have come out.”  I pushed him playfully on his arm.  “You actually did a good thing.  I was angry at first, but you got guts, kid, putting us all together like that.  It was a good move.”

“So does this mean you will get back together with Etta now that she knows the truth?” he asked hopefully, like a little kid.  He acted so much older, that sometimes I forgot how young he really was.

“I don’t want to lie to you, Miles.  Probably not.”  He looked dejected and angry.  “Look, this really has nothing to do with you at all.  Please don’t let what happened affect your relationship with either one of your sisters.  Both Emily and Etta have always been great sisters to you.  And I will be around for you whenever you need me.”

“Yeah, but if she had…”

“Don’t.”  I pulled up to his house.  “I appreciate what you were about to say, but your sister really doesn’t need you mad at her, too.” 

He nodded and got out of the car.  I grabbed the food and followed him inside the house. 

“Nathaniel Slaughter, you get over here and give me a hug,” Mrs. Sullivan called.  Before I could respond, she stood on her tiptoes and hugged my neck quickly and patted my face.  “How are you?  How’s the knee injury?  And how come you go away for so long without so much as a hello?”

“Hello, Mrs. Sullivan, it’s good to see…”

“You look good.  What can I get you?”  She turned toward Miles.  “Where’re your sisters?  You boys didn’t eat at the restaurant?  Well that’s good, because now I get to catch up with my favorite baseball player.”  She squeezed my arms.  “You know, Collin and I always watched your games when we could get them on the TV.  You remember how much that man loves his baseball.  How’s your mom?  I hear about Jake all the time, and the last time I asked about you… Oh my goodness.  You know I should call Annie.  You remember her, don’t you?  She’s my neighbor.  Her daughter is in town for Christmas and always had a little crush on you.  I bet she’d be thrilled to know you are here.  Let me just call her.  Oh, I’m so happy to see you.  I’ll be right back.”

I smiled and faced Miles.  “It’s nice to see that your mom’s the same.”

“Yeah, let’s eat fast.  By the time we finish, she’ll be planning your wedding to Annie’s ugly daughter.”

I laughed.  Mrs. Sullivan always made my head spin.  She was a whirlwind of activity; she was always talking, and she always tried to set me up with one of her friends’ daughters.  I think she did it to subtly push Etta and me together, but it obviously didn’t work.  It was just how she was, and it was comforting to know that she hadn’t changed. 

While we ate, Miles filled me in on his family dynamic.  Emily and her fiancé were staying at the house for Christmas and planning the final touches of their wedding.  They decided to get married in Houston in January since most of Emily’s family and friends lived here.  I got the feeling Miles didn’t think too highly of Emily’s choice for a husband.

“Hey, Dude,” a familiar voice interrupted, causing Miles to roll his eyes.  “I thought you went out to dinner with Emily.  Is she here?”  I locked eyes with Tater, my tattoo artist, standing over the table.  “Whoa, Nate?  What are you doing here?”

Miles looked back and forth between me and Tater.  “You two know each other?” Miles asked.

“Yeah,” Tater answered.  “He’s one of my favorite customers.”

Miles eyes got big.  “Nate?  You have a tattoo?”

“Yeah,” I looked down, knowing what he’d ask next.   “I do.”

He bounced in his chair.  “That’s so cool.  Can I see it?”

I felt my face flame.  “It’s not…”

“Nate, I saw you in that video…” Tater thankfully interrupted.  It was one thing for the kid to know about the tattoo, but to show it to him?  I could kiss Tater for allowing me to dodge that bullet, that is until I focused on what he was saying now.  “… is my client and he’s actually the one who showed it to me.  He was royally impressed by your talent, Man.”

“Nate, you sing?” Miles asked. 

“Yeah, he does.”  Tater dug his phone out of his pocket.  “I never would have guessed he would be that good.”  Tater smiled and pulled up the video for Miles to see.  They sat shoulder to shoulder while I finished my meal, trying to pretend that I was not completely annoyed by the fact that a night I’d rather forget was replaying right next to me.

I was saved when Emily entered the house and slammed the door.  Etta followed right behind.  “You did NOT just slam the door in my face!” Etta yelled.  “I just need you to understand…”

“I’m not in the mood to hear it, Etta!”  Emily yelled.

“Wait, you’re the Etta!” Tater exclaimed, turning toward me.  “Oh my God, your Etta is… Emily’s sister Etta?  Holy shit, Dude!  My mind is completely blown.”

Etta looked back and forth between Tater and me, seeming thoroughly confused.  Then her attention fell to her brother who was finishing up the video.  Her eyes narrowed at her brother; then the stormy grey fell on me.

“Nate,” Miles said, ignoring the drama unfolding around him.  “That.  Was.  Awesome.  I need to see that again.”  The video played again, louder than before.

“Nathaniel,” Mrs. Sullivan crooned from the living room. “Unfortunately Annie’s daughter wasn’t… Oh, Etta!  Good, you’re here.  We need to schedule your final fitting for your dress…” She started rambling again. 

“You two know each other?” Emily asked Tater quietly, nodding to me and ignoring the chaos erupting around us.

Tater moved in to kiss Emily’s cheek.  “Yeah, Nate here is the baseball dude I designed that tattoo for last year, remember?”

Etta’s eyes landed on Tater, and she moved around her mother to listen to the conversation.

“Famous romantic baseball guy was you?” Emily asked me.  I blinked once.  She faced Etta.  “Wow, you really are stupid.”  She turned and left the room, pulling Tater behind her. 

“Emily, wait,” Mrs. Sullivan called after them.  “We have some details we need to discuss…” and she followed them down the hallway.

Etta looked at me completely dumbfounded.  I stared at her for a minute before I dropped my eyes.   Finally, I stood up and moved to the kitchen to clean up my mess.  “Miles, I better go.  Tell your mom bye for me.”  I held up my fist, which he promptly bumped in return.  “I’ll see you later.”  I turned and left without a backward glance.