“Okay,” she says, a slow smile taking over and dispelling the nerves and worry that were just battling against her. Then she turns quickly to her mom. “But, can I see the house? One last time—before you sell it? I mean, if someone buys it before my semester’s done, can I come home just once to say goodbye?” Rowe swallows hard, and her mom reaches across the table to take her daughter’s hand while she nods yes.
Rowe
My home is gone. My home is gone. My home is gone. I have said this in my head, over and over, all night. I don’t know what it means other than the fact that I can never go back. And I don’t really want to go back…do I?
There’s a part of me that feels like I have been in a fantasy world, playing dress up like I did when I was a little girl. I’m playing college. And when I’m done with this, I’ll go back to what I was before. Except that was never the point, was it? I suppose what I’m going through is no different from the other thousands of students walking to classes, living in apartments and dorms, and calling their parents on the phone less and less as months turn into semesters and then into years.
But those other students don’t have pasts like mine, with scars covering their bodies and their hearts—and a first love that has dominated their every thought for almost a thousand days.
“Are you okay?” Nate asks, his thumb gently tugging at my chin while we lie in each other’s arms in his pink bedroom—just one more scene in my fantasyland.
“Yes. No…I’m not sure. Is that…bad?” I ask, tucking my head under his chin to feel safe.
“Yes. No. I’m not sure,” he says with a light chuckle. I don’t know if he really understands, but he pretends well enough. “I’m glad you’re coming home with me for Thanksgiving. I’m selfish.”
“I’m glad I’m coming home with you, too,” I say, and most of me is truly glad.
“San Diego really is nice. They have beaches,” he says, and I smile against his skin.
“I love beaches. Or, I think I do. I don’t know. I’ve never actually seen one,” I say almost laughing.
“You’re kidding?” he says, pulling back a little to look in my eyes, and I just shake my head no, confirming for him.
“There’s a lot I haven’t seen or done,” I say, my face flushing a little remembering the last first that Nate gave to me.
“So it would seem,” he teases, but his teasing is short. “We should make a list. I’d like to be a part of more firsts.”
“Okay,” I say, doing my best to force my brain to focus on anything other than my old bedroom, and my old boyfriend who lives only a few blocks away. “I can’t drive.”
“Wha?” Nate says, the sound of his voice soothing as his neck presses lightly over my ear.
“Never learned. Then, just sort of never needed to get anywhere. Permit expired, and ta da! I’m a lame teenager,” I say.
“Yeah, you’re pretty lame,” he says, unable to hold in the small laugh that vibrates in his chest. “Good thing you have a cool boyfriend. I’ll teach you…over Thanksgiving.”
“Thanks,” I say, not really meaning for the driving lessons.
“You’re welcome,” he says, pulling me tighter and flipping out the light; I know he’s not talking about driving lessons either. This is love.
Chapter 25
Nate
I am going to play like shit today. I don’t sleep well when Rowe is with me. It’s not because I’m uncomfortable or she snores or anything like that. It’s just that I can’t let myself relax, like I always need to keep my eyes on her. I’m afraid she’ll disappear.
Ty woke us up early, and I had been asleep for maybe a couple hours before he came barreling into our room looking for his razor and grabbing a change of clothes. I told him about Thanksgiving, and he seemed genuinely excited. And for a while, I thought he might want to ask Cass to come, too, but he never fully went there. Maybe it’s because Cass has her sister. Or maybe my brother’s afraid.
When I walk out from the dugout, there’s a man leaning against the third baseline wall, and at a quick glance, it looks like Rowe’s father. I head that direction in case it is, because I know Rowe’s parents had planned on coming to most of my game before they had to leave for their flight. I confirm it’s him as I get closer, and when he recognizes me, he pulls his sunglasses off and tucks them in his shirt pocket.
“Mister Stanton, thanks for coming out again today. I sure hope we can pull of a win for you,” I say, reaching to shake his hand one more time. “I’m sorry, Rowe’s not here yet. She said you guys were coming right at the start of the game, so she’s probably still getting ready.”