Chapters of the Heart Audiobook Series (Chapters 3 and 4)

♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh ♪ ♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh ♪ ♪ Welcome to concepts and conversations ♪ ♪ Where life begins and you can relax again ♪ ♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh ♪ ♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh ♪ ♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh ♪ ♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh ♪ ♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh ♪ - Well, everybody, I want to welcome you to Concepts and Conversations of the US Children, Coach Brian, where we discuss a little bit of life, a little bit of progression, and a little bit of growth. One day, one moment at a time. So, how did you ask like the first edition of Chapters of the Heart? Chapters wanted to. Yeah, it's been a long time coming. This book has been in me for 15 years, and I think that it was best to go ahead and get it out while it was fresh in my mind. Now, there's been a little bit of revision to it, and a lot has changed since I wrote it back in 2010, but I think it is very, very fitting that now, we get the opportunity to bring it to life. So, if you are tuned in to the first two chapters, I want to welcome you to more suspense and more to come. With that being said, we will resume chapters three and four of Chapters of the Heart, audio book series, right here on Concepts and Conversations. All right, enjoy. Chapter three. Finals. And Distance December 2001 final season hit like a freight train. The library transformed into a war zone students camped out at tables with energy drinks and coffee cups stacked like fortifications. The third floor usually quiet became a hive of whispered panic and suppress breakdowns. Teresa and I were there every day that first week of December. She had three finals and two major projects due. I had two finals of my own 40 papers to grade and a thesis chapter, Professor Herrigan, expected by December 15th. We met daily, sometimes for six or seven hours at a stretch, leaving only to grab food or use the bathroom. One night, Wednesday around 10 p.m., we were the last two people on the third floor. Teresa's head was resting on a stack of textbooks. I can't feel my brain anymore. That's because you've been awake for 20 hours. How do you know that? Because you texted me at 2 a.m. asking how to spell paradigm. She lifted her head slightly, texting on this flip phone takes forever. That's how you know I was desperate. I smiled. You need sleep. I need a miracle. She sat up rubbing her eyes. How are you still functioning? I'm not. I'm running on muscle memory at this point. She laughed tired but genuine. Wear a mess. Yeah. She looked at me for a moment. Hey, after finals are over, we should do something fun. Like actual fun. Not studying. Like what? I don't know. See a movie. Good dinner somewhere nice. Actually, remember what it feels like to be human. That sounds good. It's a date then. She froze. I mean, not a date date. Just, you know, hanging out. I know what you meant. But my heart was beating faster than it should have been. Anyway, I'm going home before I pass out right here. See you tomorrow? Yeah. Same time. Good night, David. Good night. As I watched her walk toward the elevator, I realized something I'd been avoiding for weeks. I was starting to care about tereseradrigas. More than I should. More than was safe. Friday, December 14th. 2001 finals ended on a Friday afternoon. I turned in my last batch of Grady Papers to Professor Harrigan, submitted my thesis chapter via email, and walked out of the math building, feeling like I'd survived a natural disaster. My Nokia buzzed as I was walking to my car. Teresa. Finals equals done. Movie tomorrow night. I stared at the text for a moment. This was it. The "something fun" she'd mentioned. Me. Sure. What time? Teresa. 7pm. I'll pick the movie. Meet at Fips Plaza. Me. Sounds good. I sat in my car for a moment, gripping the steering wheel. It was just a movie, with a friend. So, why did my chest feel tight? Saturday, December 15th. 2001, I changed my shirt three times before leaving my apartment. This was ridiculous. It wasn't a date. She'd specifically said, "Not a date date." I settled on a Navy button down and khakis. My usual safe. I met Teresa at the Fips Plaza Theater at 6.45. She was already there. Wearing jeans and a green sweater that matched her eyes. Her hair down and curly. Hey. I got us tickets to Oceans 11. That cool? Yes, sounds good. We bought popcorn one large to share and found seats in the middle of the theater. The movie was great. Clever. Funny. The kind of heist film that made you forget about differential equations and thesis deadlines. But I was painfully aware of how close we were sitting. How our hands kept almost touching in the popcorn bucket. How she leaned over during the funny parts and whisper comments that made me laugh. Halfway through, our hands brushed reaching for popcorn at the same time. Sorry. Sorry. We said it simultaneously. She laughed quietly. I felt my face flush in the dark. After the movie, we walked through the mall toward the parking garage. That was fun. We should do this more often. Yeah. It was nice to do something that wasn't school-related. Right? She stopped walking. So, what are you doing for winter break? Going to Uncle Devons for Christmas week. Then probably catching up on thesis work. Of course you are. She smiled. I'm going to Miami for three weeks. Family stuff. You know, three weeks suddenly felt like a very long time. Well, have a good trip. You too. She hesitated. Then stepped forward and hugged me. It was quick-friendly. But it made my heart race anyway. See you in January. David. See you, Teresa. I watched her walk to her car a red Honda Civic. That had seen better days and sat in mind for five solid minutes trying to get my thoughts in order. This was bad. I was developing real feelings for someone who clearly saw me as just a friend. I needed to get a grip. December 17 through 31st. 2000 in Uncle Devons house indicator was exactly what I needed. A distraction. He had me doing yard work, reorganizing his garage, fixing his back fence. Physical labor that kept my mind occupied during the day. But at night, lying in the guest bedroom, my phone would buzz. Teresa. Miami humidity is insane. Forgot how much I hated here. Teresa. My mom keeps asking if I'm seeing anyone. Send help. Teresa just endured the worst movie ever. Made me appreciate Ocean's 11 even more LOL. I'd respond keeping a casual. Me. At least you have good food there. Me. Tell her you're married to your textbooks. Me. What movie? Teresa. Some rom come my cousin picked. You would have hated it. Me. Probably. Teresa, you would have spent the whole time calculating statistical probabilities of the plot happening in real life. Me. Maybe. Teresa. Nerd. It was easy. Texting back and forth. Light. Friendly. But every time I phone buzzed my chested this stupid flutter thing. On Christmas Eve, Uncle Dev cornered me in the kitchen while I was helping him with collared grains. All right. Who is she? What? The girl you keep texting. Your whole face lights up every time that phone buzzes. There was no point lying to Uncle Devon. He could smell a lie from a mile away. Her name is Teresa. We're friends. Study partners. Mm-hmm. And. And nothing. We're just friends. Boy, I've been alive. Sixty-two years. I know what just friends looks like. And that ain't it. She's not interested in me like that. Did she tell you that? Not in so many words. But she's. She's different. Popular. Talented. She was engaged to some NBA player before Uncle Devon's eyebrow shot up. NBA player? Yeah. in Jones got drafted by the Charlotte Hornets last year. And what happened? He cheated on her with her best friend. Uncle Devon nodded slowly, processing. So she's healing. That means you need to be patient, son. Can't rush somebody who's still putting pieces back together. I'm not rushing anything. We're just friends for now. But feelings don't stay put, boy. They grow whether you want them to or not. He pointed his wooden spoon at me. Question is, what are you going to do about it? Nothing. Not right now anyway. That's wise. Timing matters. He went back to stirring, but don't wait so long that you turn into a scared baby goat. Too afraid to leave the pen, even when the gates wide open. I won't. We'll see. Chapter four. Slow burn January, 2002 spring semester started with fresh energy. New classes, new students, new syllabi. The campus felt alive again after the quiet of winter break. Teresa and I fell back into our Tuesday, divided by Thursday routine like we'd never left. But something had shifted over the break. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was there. In the way she texted me random observations throughout the day. Teresa, Professor Chen just spent 15 minutes explaining the difference between publicity and PR. I may die of boredom. Me, at least it's not partial differential equations. Teresa, fair point. Lunch after your office hours? Me, sure. Small invitations that became regular occurrences. Lunch on Mondays. Coffee on Wednesdays. Our standing library sessions on Tuesdays and Thursdays. We weren't just study partners anymore. We were actually friends. Good friends. And every day it got a little harder to pretend that was all I wanted. Tuesday, January 22nd, 2002, I need your help. Teresa looked up from her textbook. We were at our usual spot on the third floor. Rain was hitting the windows. One of those cold January storms that reminded you that Atlanta had winter, even if it was brief. What kind of help? I have this presentation next week. We're supposed to analyze a fail PR campaign and explain what went wrong. I've got all the research, but I'm terrible at organizing it. And you want me to help organize it? Please, you're good at making complicated things make sense. It's like math brain. I smiled. That's not a thing. It totally is. Come on, please. I'll buy you dinner. You don't have to do that. I want to. Payment for services rendered. Okay, when tonight, if you're free, I plan to grade papers, but they could wait. Yeah, I'm free. We met at the library at 6 p.m. after class is ended. She had her laptop, a mountain of research notes, and a presentation that was honestly a mess. Okay, you got good information. You just need better structure. That's where you come in, math brain. We spent two hours reorganizing her presentation. I helped her cut unnecessary information, create clearer transitions, develop a stronger argument. She was smart, really smart. She just needed someone to help her see the bigger picture. By 8 p.m. the presentation looked solid. This is so much better. Thank you, David. Seriously, no problem. Okay, I'm buying you dinner. Let's go. You really don't have to. I want to. Come on. We ended up at a small Italian place in Virginia, Highland, Amore, Amore. Nothing fancy, but nicer than our usual spots. We sat in a corner booth and she ordered spaghetti carbonara. I got chicken parmesan. So can I ask you something personal? My stomach tightened. Sure. Why don't you ever talk about dating? Like in all the time we've been hanging out, you've never mentioned being interested in anyone. My heart started racing. I guess I'm just focused on school. Come on. Everyone's interested in someone. She looked at me. You're a good looking guy, David. I'm sure girls notice you. I felt my face heat up. I'm not really. I'm not good at that stuff. At what stuff? Dating. Relationships. I took a sip of water. I had a girlfriend in undergrad. Carla. We dated for about a year. I thought things were good. Then she told me she was transferring to UCLA and getting back with her ex-boyfriend. Ouch. Yeah. He was a basketball player. Got drafted by the NBA. Teresa's expression changed. That's awful. I'm sorry. It was a while ago, but it made me cautious, I guess. I get that. She was quiet for a moment. Can I tell you something? Of course. She sat down her fork. I was engaged. I already knew this from Uncle Devin's prodding in campus gossip, but I kept my face neutral. You were? Yeah. Last year, his name was Raymond. Raymond Jones. My chest tightened. The Hornets player? Yeah. She looked down. We were together for three years. Got engaged my junior year. We were supposed to get married this past summer. What happened? She was quiet for a long moment. He cheated on me with my roommate, my best friend, Catherine. Her voice was flat. I found out Valentine's Day 2001. She was pregnant. Teresa, I'm so sorry. It gets worse. She finally looked at me and I could see pain in her eyes. I was so upset when I found out I got in my car and just drove. I wasn't paying attention. I ran a red light on peach tree and hit another car. My breath caught. The other driver, a man in his 50s. He was in Grady Hospital for a week. Broken ribs, concussion, internal bruising, he could have died. A tear rolled down her cheek. I almost killed someone because I was stupid and emotional and not paying attention. I reached across the table and put my hand on hers. It was an accident. That doesn't make it. Okay. She wiped her eyes. The worst part, Raymond didn't even come to the hospital. I called him, told him what happened and he said he had practice. That he'd come by later. He never showed up. Jesus. I broke off the engagement a week later, gave back the ring, moved out of our apartment. She took a shaky breath. That's why it transferred to state. Fresh start. New people who didn't know me as Raymond Jones, X-Fiancé. That must have been incredibly hard. It was. Still is sometimes. She looked at me. That's why I threw myself into school and music. It's easier than dealing with everything else. I understand that. I know you do. That's why it's easy to talk to you. She squeezed my hand. You don't judge. You just listen. We sat there for a moment, hands still touching across the table. Something had shifted between us. We'd move past surface-level friendship into something deeper, something that felt important. Thank you for trusting me with that. Thank you for listening. When we left the restaurant, the rain had stopped. The streets were wet and shining under the street lights. We walked to our cars and silence, and she hugged me goodnight longer than usual. See you Thursday. See you Thursday. As I drove home, I realized two things. One, I was definitely falling for her. And two, she was still healing, still putting herself back together after Raymond, which meant I needed to be patient, even if it killed me. February 2000 and February in Atlanta was unpredictable cold one day, 70 degrees the next. Teresa and I grew closer. Our Tuesday divided by Thursday sessions expanded to include weekend hangouts, movies at Fips Plaza, late-night food runs to the varsity, walking around Peemont Park when the weather was nice. To anyone watching, we probably looked like a couple, but we weren't. We were friends, close friends, and I was slowly dying inside because I wanted more, but couldn't say it. One Sunday afternoon in mid-February, we were at Peemont Park. She wanted to practice for an upcoming showcase, so we found a quiet spot under a tree and she sang while I pretended to read a book. She was working on all my life by KC and JoJo, a love song that made my chest ache. When she finished, she looked at me. What'd you think? Beautiful. As always, you always say that because it's always true she smiled and sat down next to me on the grass can I ask you something sure do you ever think about what you do if you weren't doing math what do you mean like if you could do anything money's not an issue what would you do I thought about it carefully about my father's piano about the songs I'd written late at night that no one would ever hear about the part of me I locked away after he died I don't know maybe T. Tyskool instead of college work with kids you'd be good at that what about you if music didn't work out what would you do it has to work out I don't have a back up plan she looked at the sky music is all I have left in my dad if I give up on that I'm giving up on the last piece of him you won't have to give up you're too talented I hope you're right we sat there in comfortable silence and I thought about telling her about my own connection to music about my father but the moment passed and I stayed quiet Thursday February 28th 2002 Teresa didn't show up to the library on Thursday I waited until 3 30 checking my phone every two minutes no text no call finally around 4 p.m. my phone buzzed Teresa sorry about today something came up talk later me everything okay Teresa yeah just dealing with some stuff me want to talk about it Teresa not over text can you call me later me sure I tried to focus on my thesis work but my mind kept wandering what was wrong was she okay I called her at 9 p.m. Hey her voice sounded tired hey you okay yeah I just Raymond called today my stomach dropped what did he want to talk he said he's been thinking about me about us that he wants to apologize in person what did you tell him I told him there is no us that there hasn't been for over a year she sighed but hearing his voice again it brought everything back all the pain all the anger that's understandable is it though I thought I was over him but maybe I'm not as healed as I thought my chest ached you can't put a timeline on healing I know but it's frustrating she was quiet for a moment I'm sorry you don't want to hear about my ex boyfriend drama I'm here if you need to talk thanks David you're a really good friend friend anytime after we hung up I sat on my couch staring at the ceiling Raymond was back in the picture not physically but mentally emotionally and there was nothing I could do about it except be there for her even if it meant watching her wrestle with feelings for someone else