The Girl With the Cross

Chapter 9: Tyler

  I can't even focus on my priorities anymore. At the skate park -- my favorite place -- I can't  flip or spin or anything without Sarah in my mind. Skateboarding has suddenly become extremely dangerous. JC even talked to me about dating her. She's Christian and we do not  date Christians because their beliefs are stupid. Even at school I was doing alright, but now I can't shake her again. It seems the harder I try to get her out of my mind, the more she fills it. To be honest, if a sweet, amazing girl like that is Christian, maybe I should reconsider my thinking.

  "JC, I think I gotta go. I'll catch up with you later." I say, taking off my elbow pads.
  "Leave? We just got here! Dude what's your deal? It better not be Sarah again." He says, annoyed. I'm not sure if I want to lie to him.
  "What if it is?" I ask. He shakes his head and sighs.
  "Then I'll be mad. Come on bro, I thought we were cool but now it seems you'd rather date a Christian than hang out with me: the boy you've been hanging out with all your life. I thought we were gonna stick it out to the end." He says. A short, flashing expression of sadness is registers on his face.
  "I'm sorry I haven't been normal lately." I say, shaking my head, trying to get my mind off of her -- again. Her brown hair, her sweet smile . . .
  "Then why don't you call me when you're back to normal." He says, looking disgusted with me. He starts walking away, skateboard in his right hand.
  "Dude! Don't leave, come on!" I yell. He waves his hand, not looking back at me. He skateboards off towards his house.
  Great -- now I'm losing my best friend because of her. Honestly though, I still need to talk to her.

                              ***

  I knock on her door, wait. Knock again, wait. I start to think no one is home despite the lights inside being on, but then someone opens the door: it's not Sarah.

  He's tall and his dark brown hair is slicked back. He's wearing a long sleeved button-up shirt with a loose tie, kind of like the stuff I used to wear on Sundays when I was younger. He doesn't looked pleased to see me.

  "May I help you with something?" He asks, fixing his tie. I swallow hard. My palms are starting to sweat. I'm rarely ever nervous, but Sarah and her family seem to do this to me nearly every time. I've never actually met her Dad, but I already know this can't end well.
  "Hi, I'm - um - uh, I'm sorry. I am Tyler James. Nice to meet you, sir." I say, masking my nerves as best as I can. His body tenses up at the sound of my name.
  "Ah, I've heard a lot about you, Mr. James! I think we should talk outside for a moment, yes?" He asks.
  "Um - oh yeah sure and you can call me Tyler." I try to laugh lightly.
  "Yeah right in the driveway here is good, Mr. James." He says, gesturing beyond the door. Apparently he doesn't like calling people by their first names . . .
  "So, what brings you here?" He asks, once the door is shut behind him.
  "I was just looking for Sarah. Is she home by chance?" I ask, not letting him intimidate me.
  "She is hanging out with Daniella at her house, actually. Why did you come for her?" He asks, politely. But I can feel his eyes burning into my soul.
  "I wanted to see if we could . . . um - hang out at - at the park again. Maybe eat dinner - or - or something I guess." I say, anxiety creeping into my stomach like a million spiders.
  "Oh, I got it Mr. James. I know you want things from my daughter but my daughter will not, I repeat not go out with you. Sarah is not allowed to date until she's at least sixteen and when she is old enough, you will be smart to stay away from her. I don't like being rude, or mean, or scary in any way, but my daughter is pure. Let's keep it that way, shall we?" He says, keeping his voice steady, like he's speaking to a mentally ill child.
  "Sir, I'm sorry to burst your bubble but I really like her amd I think she likes me too. You can't really get in the way of that. I won't mistreat her like I have other girls. Please, sir." I say as professionally as possible. I don't want to give myself a bad image in front of him, whether I like him or not. He sighs and  seems to think for a moment.
  "I don't want my daughter to date a boy that is going to kiss her once, and dump her all in the same moment. She deserves better than you, and even you should know that." He says, harsh. Eyes narrow. I see a flash of guilt in his eyes, but he quickly covers it up.
  "Alright that's it. Look Mr. Preacher dude, I love Sarah. I can't live without her, and I'm not going to. I don't care what you say to me or her. What we want is what we want. You need to stop being so overprotective and trust her!" I yell, angrily.
  "Oh no, you have it all wrong; I trust my daughter, wholeheartedly. The only person I don't trust in this situation is Mr. Bad Boy and let me make this clear for you. She will never love you! No matter how much you think she does, she knows better than to hang out with a person like you." He says, loud and cold and to the point. My face is turning red hot. I can feel it. I want to throw a fist.
  "I don't know who you think I am, but I would never disrespect a lady like her. Trust me, I would never come to her house so much or put all of my effort into this if I knew she was just another girl to dump -- but I need her, sir. I'm going to tell the truth now:  Every girl I've ever dated could tell you I'm just bad, okay? My parents are alcoholics, all my friends have gotten bailed out of jail several times, and sometimes I just date a girl to keep my mind off of my real life: but I need someone like her in mine. My heart is telling me that she could heal me. That she could do things to my life that would actually change who I am. Hell if I know why, but please, sir. If you let me have her in my life, I will treat her like a queen and she will never be upset as long as my arm is around her. Just give me a chance." I plead. His eyes lighten as he sighs, and thinks long and hard. He looks into me, trying to read my emotions and feelings like a book.
  "You're really not going to give up until you get what you want, are you?" He asks.
  "You're connecting the dots, Mr.Williams." I smile a little, noticing the dramatic change of tone in his voice.
   A few moments later, he finally says, "One chance; but if anything bad happens to my daughter, and I mean anything because of you, it's over. Absolutely no body contact or anything of the sort until she's at least 16. Do you understand?" He says, very warningly.
  "Yes. I understand completely." I say, looking him in the eyes.
 
  Walking home, I can't wipe the smile off of my face: she's almost mine -- all mine. I just need to be careful. I only have one chance with her, and I can't blow this.
  So, I eat the last of the leftover pizza, check on Dad, and head upstairs.
  With that, I fall asleep, dreaming about her, the most amazing girl: Sarah Williams.