All Too Well ⏤ Tim Shepard | ✓

CHAPTER FOUR

content warning: references to canonical character deaths and grief/mourning. 

Tim's hands wrap around his cup of coffee despite the steam rising from it. Becca wonders how he can stand the burning heat around his fingers. Her own cup of coffee is untouched on the table as she waits for the steam to dissipate.

When she and Tim left The Blend, she hadn't originally planned to take Tim to her place of work. But Reggie's Diner is one of the only 24-hour joints downtown and she doesn't fancy travelling across the city just for a cup of coffee.

An unfamiliar girl is working behind the counter; somebody Becca has never shared any shifts with. Her eyes are on them and when Tim and Becca, from Tim's usual booth at the front of the store, glance over at her she quickly averts her eyes and starts scrubbing at an imaginary stain.

Becca's eyes flit from the girl over to Tim, whose lips are in a grim line, annoyance washing over his face. "Does it get annoying?" Becca asks before she can stop herself. "To have everybody starin' at you all the time?"

Tim looks out the window, fingers still wrapped around the cup. A fuzz car speeds by, siren wailing and red and blue lights flashing ⏤ a typical sight for downtown Tulsa on a Friday night. Tim's face is coloured in the blue and red lights of the cop car before it disappears down the street.

"I ain't a show pony," Tim begins, still looking out the window. "I don't go 'round mucking up for attention. Just 'cause everybody knows my name and the things I done doesn't mean they know me. All I care about is my boys and makin' sure they're not dead."

Becca flinches. She thinks about Dallas Winston who was shot dead only hours after Johnny Cade died. She thinks about Tommy and the possibility that if had somebody with him that day, he wouldn't have been killed.

Tim doesn't sense Becca's discomfort as he still stares out the window. Fom the way his words tumbled out, Becca doesn't think he's ever said it out loud before. Becca feels slightly honoured ⏤ if that is the right word ⏤ that he trusts Becca enough to say it to her.

"I don't think that 'bout you," Becca tells him gently, looking at the side of his face. The neon diner sign creates a shadow, splitting his face in half in light and darkness. Becca doesn't dwell on the symbolism of what could mean; she's left school after all. "You didn't even celebrate that day in freshman year when you scored the running home run for the championship."

Tim turns his face, surprise etched into his face. "You remember that?"

"'Course. Tommy went ballistic that day, he was so happy to beat Bishop Kelley. All he said for the next week was how good you were," Becca answers.

Becca and Tommy were just over a year apart, so Tommy had been in his sophomore year then. He had talked about that with Tim on his team, they might just win the championship in his last two years of school. Then Tim had quit the team the following year and a month later, Tommy had died.

A stone feels like it has been dropped into Becca's stomach as she thinks about the day her brother died. She takes a large sip of coffee to distract herself from the memory of the fuzz coming up to their doorstep in the middle of night as she and her mother waited up for Tommy to come home.

"You were there that day?"

Becca nods her head. "Momma made sure at least one of us was always there at the games. Tommy never said it, but he was happy we was there to watch him."

Tim smiles but it comes off as wooden; disingenuous. Becca gets the feeling his parents didn't share the same view as her mother.

"Tommy was a good pitcher," Tim says, taking a sip of his coffee.