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Chapter 9
Walker spent the rest of Wednesday night and most of Thursday trying to muster the self-consciousness he was supposed to be feeling about behaving the way he did with Aja. When it didn’t come, he decided to move on. Push it to the part of his brain where he kept the things that he didn’t feel like dealing with. It would come back sooner or later, he was sure. Sooner, when Aja asked him about it, or later, when he vomited out the story to one of his Charleston friends. Either way, he wasn’t about to unpack those feelings now.
In the aftermath of his emotional breakdown, his mouth had been uncharacteristically quiet. Giving Gram the silent treatment wasn’t something he was particularly proud of, but it was what it was. He couldn’t get over how she’d had a whole entire conversation with Louise like she was completely unaware of their history. Asked about her fucking vacation plans like she hadn’t been the one to comfort him every time that woman started some new bullshit rumor about them. He didn’t understand what the hell Gram was thinking—but then, he never really did. When he was younger, the rift made him sad. Now it pissed him off.
That anger kept him in bed for most of Friday morning. It hadn’t stopped him from getting up early to make Gram breakfast and put it in the microwave, but it had kept him from speaking to her directly. He’d taken his work stuff from the dining room table up to his room and gotten some work done from his bed. Around noon, he was still tucked under his covers, dressed in nothing but his boxers, scrolling mindlessly through Twitter on his phone when his best friend texted.
Corey: You missed Jamie make a total fucking fool out of himself at karaoke last night. Shit was amazing.
Walker: I know, I saw the Instagram Live. I can’t believe y’all let him take all those tequila shots. You know how he gets. You’re lucky he didn’t set something on fire.
Corey: We weren’t thinking. That’s why we need you around to keep us in line.
Walker rolled his eyes. Corey Whittaker was one of the first friends he’d made after leaving Greenbelt. They had met during freshman orientation at the College of Charleston. Walker had been like he always was in those days: quiet, reserved, desperately sticking to the back of the crowd. Corey had been none of those things, but he’d zeroed in on Walker’s Atlanta Braves shirt and latched on. Twelve years later and Corey still hadn’t gotten the urge to untangle himself.
When he was home in Charleston, Walker lived a good, if calm, life. He woke up every morning, went on a forty-minute run, then went to work. There he spent roughly forty percent of his day doing what he got paid for and the rest trying to look busy so he didn’t piss his editor off. He worked a sports beat, but most of his coverage was focused on baseball. Some MLB, but more recently college and high school, which meant that he was at games at least three nights a week on average. When he wasn’t working or enjoying his own company at home, he was with his friends. They were a small group, just him, Corey, Adya, Jamie, Andre, and Nate.
Walker’s social circle wasn’t exactly what he would call full. He’d come a long way from his friendless days in Greenbelt, but his past meant that he rarely felt comfortable letting new people in. Not when he knew that he couldn’t trust his trauma with just anybody. And there was no way for him to live his life without acknowledging it. Even if he could, he wouldn’t have wanted to. His friends had all come into his life in different ways at different times. But he trusted them with his life. Instead of feeling bad that his birthday celebrations were normally composed of fewer than ten people, he found himself in awe that he’d come so far.
As a kid, it had only been him and Gram and sometimes his father, Benny, during the short times when Benny was sober. Back then, he never would have imagined he’d have so many people not related to him giving a fuck about his well-being. He often had to shake himself out of the awe he felt whenever he dwelled on it for too long. That awe was exactly why he continued to put up with the boys’ antics whenever they insisted on going out and acting like ridiculous-ass frat boys.
Walker: Only a few more weeks, man
I was seconds away from calling in the rescue team the other night
Corey: Again? What happened?
Walker: Just Greenbelt being Greenbelt we went out to dinner and our waitress was this shitty woman who said all this shitty stuff to and about me, and Gram straight up didn’t give a fuck
She went full on little nice old Southern lady and I was mad enough to spit
Corey: Damn…
Corey: I’m sorry, man, that must have been fucking infuriating
Have you talked to Ms. May about it?
Walker: Nope not sure what to say tbh
Corey: Well… you could just tell her that it makes you feel like shit when she gets all buddy-buddy with folks who were cruel to you
Walker: Honestly, I don’t even know if it’s worth the time it would take to get the words out
I don’t think she sees it like that
Corey: Dude, you won’t know for sure until you talk to her
Walker: Jesus what are you, my new therapist?
Corey: Best friend, therapist, same fucking thing.
Corey: Just talk to your granny before I come up there and knock you upside your head
Walker: Yeah
Corey: What else is going on down there? Hook up with any of the girls you couldn’t bag in high school?
Walker: Those girls have either booked it to someplace less awful than Greenbelt or they’re married with kids
