Love's Learning Curve (11 page)

Revealing that information, I feel liberated.  I take a deep breath and train my eyes into the forest focusing on a little slither of bright green knowing that looking at him at this point would make the situation and the connection too real.

“Last night, that was your first experience of a college party, Charlie?” 
Charlie?
  His voice permeates the thick walls surrounding my heart and with the simple gesture of assigning a nickname, it changes things between us.  I feel different toward this person who I met for the first time less than twenty-four hours prior.  Is this friendship?

I know he’s watching me intently.  My body feels his gaze even though I’m physically avoiding seeing it for myself, but I nod.  “Last night was a first of many things. It was my first real party, not just college.  It was my first time drinking.  It was my first time playing a game with risks, my first time getting into a vehicle with anyone who wasn’t pre-approved by my mother, and it was the first time a guy ever walked me to my door not just to say good night to my parents to prove they had fulfilled an obligation.”

He stands abruptly and walks in front of me; his hands stretch over then clasp behind his head in obvious frustration.  The tensing and releasing of the muscles in his back, shoulders, and arms hold my focus.  His body is magnificent to watch, but his silence unnerves me.  I take in his form noticing things about him that I failed to see earlier.  I guess another side effect of living in a bubble is I’ve only ever been able to see the things that affected my immediate world.

Tyler is tall and incredibly handsome, but not like the guys I’m accustomed to seeing.  Tyler is rougher around the edges.  His fingers are callused, and his face isn’t clean-shaven.  He embraces the scruff, and for the first time ever, my body reacts.  I realize I like the roughness.  It’s real.

“Tell me about the panic attack.”  Concern fills his features.

I don’t want to tell him about the panic attacks.  I want to forget they exist.  I have for years and haven’t had any episodes until last night, but it was a bad one.

“They used to be frequent.  That was the first in a while.  I deal.  I’m fine, though.  I just need to work harder to hold myself together when things are hard.  I looked up techniques on the Internet that I use and work, but I was just too overwhelmed to use them last night.”  He nods, and I’d give anything to see his face.  I want to know if he believes that I’m really okay and not a mental case.

 “Okay, Charlie, let’s go,” he says turning back to face me.  Reaching for my hand, he takes it pulling me off the swing toward the empty parking lot, except for one motorcycle.  I ready myself to say good-bye to my new friend, hoping deep down that he is actually a friend.

When we reach the motorcycle, seeing it up close, I’m fascinated.  It looks like a space mobile.  It’s matte black with Stone written in a strong masculine font on the side and the number 11 under it with flames shooting out of the coolest baseball graphic decal I’ve ever seen.  The lines of the motorcycle itself are all curves.  It looks powerful and matches the personality of its owner.  He takes the helmet off the back, staring down at it for a moment.

I take advantage of the voided silence and begin to speak my departure.  “Thanks for the talk today.  I know it probably doesn’t seem like much to you, but it meant a lot to me.”  His eyes peer up from the focus of the headgear he’s holding and meet mine.

“So I’ll see you around.  Maybe?  Hopefully.”  I turn quickly not knowing what else to say.  I don’t know or understand new friendships.  I especially am clueless to how friendships work with the opposite sex.  Scared that I’ll say the wrong thing, I decide to part ways and finish my run.

His fingers lace around my waist, and he pulls me back to him.  Without saying a word, he places the helmet on my head and adjusts it to secure it tightly.  No questions.  No offers of his plans.  Just doing what he wants as if I’m a doll.  He could be dragging me to an empty alley to kill me, and I’ve put up no fight.

Once he’s satisfied with the fit, he climbs onto the front of the bike, holding out his arm to help me on and telling me where to place my feet.  I act on complete impulse.  The unknowns of what’s happening flood my thoughts and abilities to ask questions or even speak.  But my acceptance for whatever is going to happen is in my actions.  I do exactly what he tells me.

The engine vibrates to life between my legs.  Before pulling his dark sunglasses over his eyes, he reaches back, pulling me snuggly into his back, before wrapping my arms around his middle.  My closeness to him and the way my body responds sends a rush of heat through my core and every single inch of my extremities are touching him.  He balances the machine between his straddled legs as he begins to walk it backward out of the space.

When his path is clear, he yells over his shoulder. “Hold on tight, Charlie. I mean it. We’re going to go fast.” And even if I could find my words to respond, I wouldn’t have had time. True to his word, once out of the lot and after a few quick turns taking us onto a country road, we’re going fast.

I realize my original thought that it looked like a space mobile was probably quite accurate.  I’ve never been on a motorcycle.  I don’t know if this feeling is normal, but I feel like we’re flying, floating on a high-speed cloud on a mission to nowhere.  The wind brushing past me leaves me feeling light and frees me from the weight of the world that was burying me alive moments ago.  He drives like I run.  Faster.  Harder.  Pushing the limits.  I’ve never felt so aware of the world around me, of the things that pass me by daily, the things that I miss while unintentionally focusing on achieving the glass ceiling of expectations I’ll never reach.  No more.  I’m awake now, and I don’t want to miss anything else.  I want to LIVE.

When he pulls up in front of George’s, my mood is now drastically different than it was before the ride.  I couldn’t keep the smile from taking over my face if I tried; therefore, I can’t play it cool.  I can’t pretend that a fast ride on the back of his motorcycle down country roads hasn’t changed things for me, and more importantly, I can’t pretend that he hasn’t fueled an intense desire in me to experience more out of life, fearlessly.

The engine turns off, and he reaches his hand out to balance the bike while instructing me again where to place my feet to hop off.  I do as he says without question.  I hop off literally bouncing on the balls of my feet, filled with excitement and adrenaline.  I fumble with the helmet, trying to figure out how to release it.  He smirks as he gets off the bike.  Walking over to me, he faces me as he takes it off and places it on the seat.  I laugh.  Not a quiet giggle.  Overwhelming joy.

“Oh.  My.  God.  That was incredible,” I tell him the first chance I can string together a sentence.  As I find my words and my courage at the same time, I launch myself at him wrapping my arms around his shoulders and embracing him.  He not only accepts my embrace but also does one better, squeezing me tightly and holding me up with my feet dangling off the ground.  Instinctively, my legs want to wrap around his waist, and I crave the need to touch his lips to mine, but somehow, I restrain myself from both and soak in the moment.

 He holds me effortlessly, and his deep voice almost causes a loss of all control.  The urge to feel his lips consumes me when he begins speaking into my ear over what I’m sure is a matted mess of hair from the helmet.  “I had a feeling that was just the medicine you needed.”  Then he releases me slowly from the embrace, and I slide down to my feet. He continues.  “It helps me sometimes too.”  His face softens as he watches me, our bodies still close but not attached.  It still feels like a loss, and I miss his touch when his fingers brush along my cheek to push the stray hairs away.  My head leans into his touch.

“Thank you, Tyler, for everything,” I tell him honestly, hoping he understands.  The sparkle in his eyes right before the quick wink tells me he does.  I laugh as we turn to walk toward the doors of my favorite restaurant.

When we walk in and Sue greets us both, I realize Tyler is also a regular here.  That all on its own is huge to me.  It’s nice to know we do have something in common.  I head for the corner booth before even considering the possibility that he may have his own favorite spot, but he follows and doesn’t seem to mind.

We place our orders after a quick chat with Sue, and it’s during his interaction with her that I realize Tyler Stone is actually a hotshot baseball player.  It now makes sense why his motorcycle adorns the name Stone with his jersey number 11 and the flaming ball.  Sue leaves us to go put in our order, but not before she leans in to me whispering quietly that she approves of Mr. Stone and is very happy to see me here with a new friend.

Sue doesn’t have it in her not to find a redeeming quality in anyone.  She accepts everyone as they are with the exception of my mother.  My mother came to visit me on campus my freshman year for parents’ weekend.  I was completely mistaken in thinking my parents would enjoy the family-style meals Sue and George put together so the students and their families could enjoy a home-cooked meal.  It was really special, but in true Sandra style, she treated the whole experience like it was beneath her.

Sue likely would have overlooked that, but she accidentally overheard a private conversation between my mother and me, sealing the fate of Sue’s disdain for Sandra Baker forever.  I’d had years of listening and dealing with my mother's harsh critiques and learned to build a thick skin and somehow not allow her words to define me.  Sue did not, and what she heard broke the heart of a lady who not only had two daughters and a son of her own but was also a step-in mother to all of us orphaned college students when school was in session.

 Sue walked out of the restroom that day with glassy tear-filled eyes, and if looks could kill, my mother would have been dead.  After washing her hands and not taking her eyes off my extremely embarrassed but unapologetic mother, she walked right up to me and embraced me in the warmest hug I’ve ever received.  I loved Sue before that day.  I knew her heart was bigger than most, but I’ll never forget her unashamed words in those four walls while my mother had no choice but to stand aside and hear.

“You, Charlotte, are one of the most amazing young women I’ve been blessed enough to meet in all my years here at this restaurant, and I’ve met a lot.”  She reached down taking my hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze before she continued.  “You’re gorgeous without realizing the magic of it.  You’re smart, and you’re a hard worker.  But the best part of you is a part I didn’t understand fully until just now.”

She looked directly at my mother with disgust, but in that stare, I saw pity for my mother.  Then returning her gaze to me, I watched it fill with love.  “You’re selfless and kind, which I knew already, and I’ve benefitted from watching you gift that to my own flesh and blood.  I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that. The new part, something I’m sure very few realize and that I’ve sadly just come to understand, is your forgiving heart.  Honey, to have been raised in a home where your spirit, beauty, and achievements were not appreciated is a pity, and I’m glad you’re resilient and haven’t let that destroy you because it would have for most.  You’re the strongest girl I’ve ever met, and I love you.  For all that you have overcome.  For all that you are now.  And all that you’ll be one day.  I’m prouder of you than I ever thought I could be of anyone.”

She embraced me again when she finished speaking, and with unashamed flush, wet cheeks, she turned and left the room without bothering to give my mother another look.  That was the first and only time I’ve ever witnessed Sandra Baker stunned to silence, and there has never been a mention of that moment since.  We left the restaurant promptly after the encounter, and my parents made an unexpected early departure back home, my father oblivious to the reasons why.  I spent my time during parents’ weekend not missing my parents, and instead, hanging out at George’s eating, studying, and even helping roll napkins and silverware when they were extra busy.

My heart fills with happiness at having Sue’s open acceptance of my budding friendship with Tyler.  Even though she’s not my mother and she’s met and knows Ty well, it seems, it still feels a little like introducing my family to a new friend.  It’s another first time experience for me.