Inside Out (12 page)

“Goodnight, baby.” She soothed and stroked Tracey's hair before she left.

Nearing her bedroom, she heard the sounds of Grapple Arena III coming from her room. That was the fighting game she'd gotten with the gaming system. She slipped inside and shook her head as she saw her father in front of her television. The adapter from the handheld game projected the game onto the TV screen. She sat down on the loveseat next to him to watch him play the game.

“Addictive, isn't it?”

“Hush, Tracey, I'm tryin' to do somethin' here,” he gritted out between jerks. When he finally lost a match he turned to his daughter and put his arm around her shoulder. “Don't tell your mama you saw me in here doing this. She thinks I'm too old.”

“Well, you are.”

“Aw, hush, Tracey.” He leaned back against the seat. “It's good to have you home, baby girl.”

“I'm sorry I haven't been home much this semester. I've been real busy.”

“Socially, huh?” Tracey smiled sheepishly. “Well, that's understandable. I'm glad you've made friends this year. You're a young woman with a bright future. You need to make connections.”

“Don't talk to me like I'm one of your students, Daddy,” she told him.

“Speaking of students, how are things going with Alexander as your faculty advisor?”

“I don't know. That's something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What?”

“What do you really think about him?”

“Well, professionally, I have a lot of respect for him. He's been able to conquer adversity in that he's at a white university in one of the whitest law programs in America and yet he's managed to be successful. He's kept his identity intact and his dignity.”

“I guess that answers my question.”

“You don't like him?”

Daddy was smirking. He could always read her. “No, it's not that. I do like him. I was just curious.”

“Travis!” They both turned towards the door.

“That's my cue. I'm going to bed now, baby girl. I'll see you tomorrow morning.” He hugged her with one arm and kissed her on the cheek before he went out of her room, shutting her door.

Her bed looked like a cloud waiting to accept her. Still, she didn't sleep well. When she didn't drift off after an hour or so, she took out her cell phone and sent a text.

* * *

Tracey sat in a cream leather salon chair wrapped from head to toe in a cream robe. Her wet hair, infused with some sort of deep conditioning lotion, was wrapped in a plastic bag as she sat under a dryer. Breathing deeply, she watched her Aunt Colleen chatting with one patron and another. Tracey watched her move with authority. Aunt Colleen always moved with authority, always knew what she wanted and where she was and who she was. Tracey admired her for that. Tracey had a lot to think about. Once upon a time, she had thought she knew those things, too.

Tracey wondered what Garrett was doing then. Was she as much in his thoughts as he was in hers? What were they going to do? They were both graduating in May. He would go his way and Tracey was going to have to go hers, right? The thought caused her physical pain. She pressed a hand to her stomach. She was hoping like hell Mama wouldn't notice as she came toward her swathed in her own robe. But because she had that mother-type sixth sense, she did.

“What's wrong, Tracey?”

“Nothing.” She sniffled, trying to be strong.

Carolyn stared at her and said, “Come on. Let's go to the restroom.”

“Ma, I'm fine,” Tracey protested. But her mother turned off the dryer and dragged her away, mumbling something barely comprehensible about hormones. If Tracey didn't follow her, she would think her daughter disrespectful.

In the bathroom, Tracey looked under the stall doors. There was no one there. No one to save her. She started to cry even harder. Even as she was pulled into her mother's arms, she knew she couldn't tell her mother what was wrong. Of course, Carolyn would tell Tracey she loved her daughter no matter what, that as long as Tracey was happy, she was happy. She would say everything Tracey needed to hear from her. And she would probably think she meant it. But right after, she would tell Tracey what the rest of the world would think. She would start every sentence by clarifying, “Now, I'm not talking about me, because I love you.” She would tear down everything she'd built up. She would tell her father, who wouldn't waste the time with pleasantries.

Mama pulled back from her. She smoothed her hair back and held Tracey's chin up toward her. “Tracey, did you do something?” Her eyes were serious. “I know you said everything was fine at school, but… What I mean to say is that you're my daughter, and I know you. Is it a man? Are you pregnant?”

“No!” Tracey squealed.

“That's good.” Mama nodded. “But it is a man?” Not answering was like an admission of guilt for her. “What did he do to you?” Not the best question.

“He didn't exactly do it to me, Ma.”

“Then what did you do to him?” Better question. “Tracey what did you do to him?”

“Look,” Tracey told her, “I really don't feel like talking to you about this right now.” No use searching for an excuse, her mother wouldn't believe any of them anyway. Tracey splashed water on her face.

“Are you sure you're not pregnant?”

“I'll be fine, Ma. Thanks for the concern.”

In the end, Tracey decided she would go home, or rather back to school, and not think about it. She just wouldn't think about it.

“Jesus, lady! Where did you learn to cook like this? Not from your mama, she is not so good in the kitchen.”

Mary Margaret Atkins leveled a killing look at her brother.

“Unc Beau, you never met a piece of food you didn't like.” Angie grinned at the only member of her mother's extended family she could stomach.

“I met plenty of your mama's food I didn't like!”

“Now Beau, how many times you going to say it?” Mary Margaret's pale green eyes were starting to flash with anger.

“I'm just saying.”

“Everybody in here knows what you're saying,” Jerry, Mary Margaret's other brother, called from the living room where he was watching television.

“That's enough,” Big Atkins said to his brothers-in-law. He was always trying to keep the peace.

“Well,” Jess McNealey, Big's sister, started, “as long as we all enjoy the fellowship of the day and celebrate in Jesus' name, everything's all right.”

“Do I have to celebrate dry-ass turkey?” Tonya, Beau's wife, spoke up. Her words were a little slurred as she slumped sideways in her chair.

Mary Margaret slammed back from the table and grabbed her plate, taking it over to the sink. She started the disposal.

Big stood up and came to stand behind her. He tried to slip his arms around her waist.

“Leave me alone.”

“Aww, Mary Margaret.” He swayed forward, trying to hold her.

“Leave me alone, Big,” Mary Margaret said again, like she meant it.

Big just grinned.

“Dad,” Angie admonished him, “please leave her alone, or she's going to give you hell later. And hell to you means hell to us.” She motioned to Rett, who rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to let his family's holiday curse get to him this year. No one had left the house furious and refusing to come back yet, so he figured they were in the lead.

“All you have to do, Angela, darling, is get your mama to give me a little kiss. That'll solve everything.”

Angie looked plaintively toward her mother, willing her to do just that. But she wouldn't. Mary Margaret Atkins was as stubborn as the millennium was long. She had always been picked on by her brothers, and that had extended to their no-good wives once they were married. “Please, Mama, give him a kiss so I don't have to watch him slobber all over you.”

Rett laughed then, and, when she saw it, so did his mother.

The curse had been averted for a minute.

“Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!”

There went the cease-fire.

Nate, Wayne, Trish and her kids were filing in. Rett and Angie exchanged looks.

“I'm not on 9-1-1 duty this year,” Angie whispered in his ear. “I'm so out of here.” She stood up and fixed the prettiest, most dazzling smile on her face. She didn't bother to greet her cousins, and they certainly didn't open their mouths to her. She mentioned something about meeting friends for drinks. Mary Margaret shot her a glare, but remained quiet. Her brother Jerry did the same.

Rett would stay, of course. He needed to be peacemaker if at all possible. It usually wasn't. As soon as the beer and Tennessee bourbon started to flow, there were going to be problems.

They would sit around talking, watching football, and laughing at jokes that weren't really jokes. Rett would watch his mother try to hold on to her temper. She had an awful one, but she knew that as soon as she let it rise, her brothers would use it as an excuse to argue. One would side with her for the hell of it. The other would side against her for the same reason. Then Big would try to settle it, and they would turn on him. By that time Rett and his cousins would have gotten in on it, too. There was no longer a door to the den. It had been broken off its hinges twice at past dinners and they'd decided to stop replacing it.

Rett took a beer and stood up so Trish could have his seat. The kitchen was getting too crowded. He eased out into the living room where Jerry reclined in his dad's chair.

“That's what's wrong with everything today.” Jerry gestured at the TV with his thumb. Rett looked up and there was a telethon on.
Oh, God.

“See, them people start having them babies—”

“Jerry—”

“No, no, let me tell you. If you going to be a lawyer you going to be seeing stuff like this all the time, and I don't want you to get fooled. I mean I know for a fact half of them is out there on welfare and they think that for every baby they get, that's just another check. It's like a job to 'em. If they can get something from you—”

“Come on, Jerry,” Rett said, swallowing.

“Come on what, boy? I'm trying to make sure you still see the truth. I don't know what school's telling you but—”

Forget being peacemaker. If he stayed he was going to be the one starting the fight this time. Rett took a breath but didn't answer. He just walked out of the house.

Sitting in his car, he reached for his cell phone and dropped his seat back.

“Hello.” Her voice was low, but excited. She was happy to hear from him.

“You up, Trace?”

“Yeah, babe.” She said it quickly. The little endearment had just slipped out. At one time she would have hesitated over using such an affectionate term for him. Rett's heart soared… and his pants tightened. He sighed, but a grin found its way to his face.

“You want to talk?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

He and Tracey hadn't planned to see each other before they went back to school, but neither of them could stay away. They'd agreed to meet at a remote hotel just off exit 89. Their time together was intense, and something they both needed, but Rett couldn't help being bothered by her answer when he asked her to stay the night.

She looked up at him and broke his heart. He didn't want the words to come out of her mouth but they did. “I can't stay the night. I know I'm an adult, but my parents will wonder where I am.”

Her fear was single-handedly destroying the both of them.

When Tracey got back from Christmas break, being with Garrett was the only thing on her mind, even though he'd been a bit distant since Christmas. He must have been happy to see her, too, because she was barely inside before he was making love to her, eating her alive. For a while, it seemed like things were back to the way were at the start. But it didn't last.

Two weeks later, on a Friday, Garrett and Trace were together at home, working all day. That night she was going out with Monica and Sabrina for dinner. She hadn't seen Monica since she got back and Sabrina had called that afternoon to talk about their Employee Rights final. Tracey invited her to dinner as well.

“So you're going to be out all night?” he asked as she dressed for dinner.

“No, honey, I'll be back around nine or ten. It's just dinner.”

“Where are you going?”

“Rachel's, of course.” She kissed him before she grabbed her purse.

“Well, I may go out tonight, too,” he called to her as she got ready to go out the front door.

“Good,” she yelled back to him, then added, “Just be home at a reasonable hour!”

* * *

Rett knew Tracey. He knew how she felt. He knew that they lived in the “Heart of Dixie” and, while a lot of things had changed, a lot of them had not. People like him, people like Tracey… She envisioned her father forcing her to watch
Eyes on the Prize
and
Roots
and even
Shaka Zulu
until she came to her senses. He'd seen every one of those miniseries, and would quote them when Tracey was being ungrateful.

As for Garrett's family… From what Tracey could gather from him and Angie, their nuclear family was a pretty standard middle class group of people. Once you started throwing in uncles and aunts and cousins and second cousins, things started to get a bit sketchy. They never came out and said what their family was like, but from what Tracey gathered, family gatherings with the Atkins and Hinsons were very different than those of the McAlpines and Moncriefs.

Beyond their families, Tracey was still holding on to the few friends she'd made in school and was protective of her burgeoning friendship with Moni. Garrett had basically moved into her place, but still kept the majority of his clothing and belongings in his car because she didn't want her mother or father to come to the place and find something of his. Not just because he was white, but because they would never, ever, support her living with a man or even giving the impression of living with a man out of wedlock. He still hung out with Clay quite a bit, but she knew he worked at maintaining his other relationships, using law school as a handy excuse for his general absence. Angie still came over often.

Garrett knew better than to show up with some of his friends at the same place Tracey was having dinner with her friends.

She saw him there and sank back into her seat and tried to look inconspicuous. Nearly impossible, though, with Monica's jokes. She'd started in on their waiter as soon as they sat down, flirting outrageously. The flirting was meant to be a joke, though Tracey could barely breathe with Garrett right there across the dining hall from her. Halfway through dinner he walked towards her. Tracey panicked.

“Tracey.” He greeted her with a neutral smile.

“Garrett, hi.”

He looked from her to Sabrina, and then to Monica. He stuck out his hand. “Hi, I'm Garrett Atkins, Tracey's—”

“Friend!” Tracey interjected. “He's a friend of mine from class!” Sabrina and Monica shook hands and smiled politely.

He was already angry when he added, “Tracey, I'd like you to come over and meet a few of my friends.”

Monica and Sabrina looked at each other, then at Tracey.

“Oh, I know them both from class,” she answered, not moving. Tracey waved at the guys at his table and smiled. One of them she recognized as his old roommate, Clay. Garrett looked at her and she had never, ever, seen the condemning, angry expression he wore. He nodded at her curtly and then walked back to his own table. Monica started to snicker and Sabrina followed suit. Tracey pasted on a smile, too, though there was an icy freeze inside her.

* * *

He almost broke the hinges off her front door.

“What the hell was that all about?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I was ready, and you knew it. I was
ready
and you made me look like a damn fool. I know it was your decision not to be out in the open about it, but—”

“I was right about that, wasn't I?”

“No, Tracey, you weren't, but I was hoping you'd come around. You promised me you would, but I guess that didn't mean anything to you.” Tracey leaned back in her chair and tried to distance herself from what he was saying. “Don't you dare tune me out, Tracey! Don't you dare! We are going to talk about this whether you want to or not.”

“People could get the wrong impression.”

“What? That we're sleeping together?” The door remained wide open as he stalked over to her. “Tracey, we
live
together.”

“Don't. It's not that. It's—”

“What is it?” he yelled. He was so close she could feel his breath on her face. She knew he wasn't going to hit her, but she had also never seen him this angry before. “Are you ashamed? Tracey, is that it? You don't want any of your friends to know you're screwing a white guy?”

She might have hit him; however, she didn't remember hitting him. There was a rancid silence, then the big red spot spreading across his jaw and cheek.

He took a deep breath and took a step away from her. She didn't meet his gaze.

He walked over to close her front door. “You don't even know what I've been going through. It doesn't even occur to you that I have just as many obstacles to overcome as you do. You think it's all about you.” He sounded defeated. “You don't know what I have to deal with, what my
dad
and my
sister
have to deal with. It's not as much of a secret as you think it is. I've been handling this for months.
Months,
Tracey.”

“I didn't—”

“You didn't know because I didn't want you to know. I didn't want you to get upset. But screw that, Tracey! Your friends don't know, your
father
, the all-powerful Travis McAlpine, J.D., doesn't know a thing. He's not having to defend you to his friends or having to deal with the funny looks from his coworkers. And unlike me,
you
barely go to your church. I go to my church every Sunday morning and I have to smile when people are smiling at me, going through the motions but talking about me behind my back.”

As usual, Tracey was swept up in the intensity of the moment and all her words left her. She didn't even know what to feel.

“What's so wrong with it, Tracey? What's so wrong with you and me lovin' each other and not being afraid to show it? I can deal with the BS, but you have to deal with it, too. Why can't you?”

She couldn't answer and she couldn't stop the tears from welling up. It wasn't on purpose. She didn't start to cry because she wanted to distract him or force him to be sympathetic. She cried because he was right. Tracey had believed in their anonymity. Still didn't quite know how it hadn't gotten out. But it hadn't touched her life as apparently it had Garrett's.

“Tracey, don't cry. Please. I don't want to hurt you. It's just that it's making me crazy. You're making me crazy. I'm sick of you acting like I don't exist as soon as you walk out the door.” He put his arms around her and massaged her neck. He kissed the tears out of her eyes. “Tracey, you're killing me,” he whispered. “I love you, and you're killing me. If it were just sex, that'd be different, but I want more than that, so much more. I want to go to the movies with you, to go dancing with you. I want to go to the grocery store with you and hold hands while we argue over what kind of beer to buy. I can't take things the way that they are. I can't be with you, it hurts too much.” He pulled back and away from her. “I'm leavin'. I have to. I'll pick up my things later.”

“Where are you going to stay? Garrett, you're not on the lease at Woodland Towers anymore.”

“I'll be at Angie's. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

* * *

Tears swam before his eyes on the drive to his sister's house. His nose was running, too, and he swiped at his face with his hand. It didn't help, and the gaping hole in his heart just seemed to widen.

He tried to get himself together before he went into his sister's apartment, but as soon as he walked in, she looked up and smiled. He tried to smile back but knew he failed. He called her name. “Angie.”

“What is it?” Her voice was gentle as she motioned for him to join her on the couch. He could tell from her tone, from the warmth and sadness in her eyes, she already knew.

“I don't know what to do.”

“Just give it some time, Rett. I promise you it will work itself out.”

Rett just shook his head. His throat burned as sobs racked his body.

He needed to go home, even if he had to face Big and the fact that he had been right.

* * *

After spending the night at Angie's, Rett went home early in the morning and started pounding beers. When Big came in the kitchen, he took one look at his son before walking with him out to the carport.

“What's going on, son?”

“You said some things were out and some in. Well, I don't have an ‘in' anymore, Daddy, and hell, it's putting me out.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you won't be hearing anything else about me.”

Big nodded, but he studied Rett's face anyway.

As the weeks turned to months, Big became more unsettled every time Rett came home. His son was getting drunk, starting fights, and chasing every skirt that crossed his path. Or so he heard. That Charles always had something to say about Rett. Whether it was true or not, Rett barely spent any time at home anymore, and when he did, he didn't have much to say. There was trouble brewing and there was no doubt in Big's mind it all came down to that black gal.