The One #watty2019

Twenty-Two

Dr. Fitzsimmons opened the door. "Hello, Jack," he said with a thin smile, "Come in."
It was two days after I had called him, the earliest time he had an opening. Much of the previous day had been spent in restless anticipation. Not sure why. I was just talking with him, not taking the SATs or anything.
Kayla and I had spent the day in between with each other, trying our best to avoid talking about what happened between us. Why? I think we were waiting until I spoke with Fitzsimmons. I know I was. I wasn't exactly sure how to come at this thing and the last thing I wanted was to explode again and claim that Kayla was some sort of lying, manipulative shrew. Was I still mad that she lied? Of course. I probably could have handled it better, though.
Seeing a guy kill himself doesn't do a whole lot to help you react well, it must be said.
Kayla, for her part, had put on her best smile and seemed oblivious to what had happened. I know she wasn't. Every time she looked at me, I could see that nugget of hurt that I had created in her eyes. But she never brought it up and didn't let it dampen her spirits. At first I thought it was denial, like she was trying to make me forget by acting like it didn't happen. Then I started to realize that she was studying me as much as I was studying her. I wasn't being very talkative so she was taking up that burden, chatting about whatever came to mind. When my stomach growled, she 'casually' suggested we go out and grab lunch. When it looked like I was anything less than happy (which happened sporadically as thoughts of my session with Fitzsimmons and the reason why entered my brain), she snuggled up close to me and just held me.
She was making a huge effort and I knew it wasn't just for show. I'd known Kayla long enough now to know when she was being sincere. I tried to let her know how much I appreciated what she did but...it was hard to find words. My anger with her was dissipating, if not fully disappearing, but the depression still stuck.
Hopefully seeing Fitzsimmons would change that.
His office reminded me of Mr. Nichols', mainly because it felt fairly roomy until you sat down and realized how squished everything seemed. There were several bookshelves and filing cabinets to be sure, set up much in the same way any office might be. A few pieces of innocuous art and a large clock hung on the wall wherever the tall bits of furniture let there be space. But as soon as I sat down, they seemed to be looming over me, like the sofa I was sitting on was about a foot too short. It was an odd perspective and I spent the few seconds that Fitzsimmons took to get out a pen and paper trying to get used to it.
"So, Jack," Dr. Fitzsimmons said, pulling his chair out from behind his desk and plopping it down in the middle of the room, facing me, "What's been bugging you?"
I blinked. "Bugging me? Coach Walburn."
"Okay...what specifically?"
What the hell... "That he died?"
"I'll rephrase the original question...why are you here now?"
God, this guy was weird. "Because it's been bugging me more, I guess. And it's kinda hurting my relationship with my girlfriend."
"Did you talk it out with her?"
"Kind of...but seeing him kill himself kinda is...it's affecting the way I think...I think. Like, stuff that I used to be able to say easily now is just..." I waved my hands vaguely. "Doc, I'm scared of what I'm going to say each time I talk. I kinda blew up at my girlfriend the other day."
"Why?"
"Well..."
I took a deep breath and started telling him about everything that had been happening the week, starting from my accidental kiss with Tara up to my decision to come see him. I omitted some parts, obviously. My cousin Tara became a...girl called Tara and the sex Kayla and I had before she suggested the threesome got shortened to "we fooled around". If he noticed discrepancies, he didn't say, even when the circumstances behind the accidental kiss were somewhat vague (I couldn't think of a good way to explain how another girl got in my bed).
With anyone else, I probably would have been, at the very least, uncomfortable about talking about this stuff. But with Dr. Fitzsimmons...I don't know. I think it was his blank impassiveness that kept me going. Most other people would probably react in some way: shock, horror, disgust, stuff like that. But he never made a sound, never lifted an eyebrow. Honestly, it was kind of like talking to myself with another body nearby.
It took about ten minutes before I started wrapping up:
"...then I was in the bathroom and I started getting these weird ideas. Like, what would it be like if the side of my head exploded? And I started pushing my finger into my skull..." I showed him how I did it, "...and I just kept pressing and pressing and all I could think about was...what would happen if I died? Would people remember me? Is there Heaven? Hell? Stuff like that and I just kept pressing and I knew it hurt but I didn't care and...well, my sister knocked on the door and Kayla showed up and...Doc, seeing her, I got real scared about the stuff I thought about and I knew I had to come talk to you. So...here I am."
Fitzsimmons looked at me levelly for a minute before saying, "I think I know what's really bothering you."
"You do?" I asked incredulously, "What?"
"I'm a psychologist, not a Magic-8 Ball. I'll guide you but I'm not going to hold your hand." He settled himself in his chair and cleared his throat. "Seems to me like Mr. Walburn's death and your issues with Kayla aren't independent."
"What do you mean?"
"At least, psychology-wise. What you're feeling, your fears and whatnot, come from a combination of both. Specifically, where they overlap."
I was confused. "Overlap?"
Fitzsimmons blinked slowly (he had an unsettlingly slow blink). "What's the biggest wedge in the relationship right now?"
"Her lying to me about the other guy."
"Were you upset about what she lied about? Or just that she lied in general?"
Kayla had asked me something similar. "...I don't know. I think just that she lied. I mean...it wouldn't have mattered to me if she told me. I almost feel like...she thinks she can't be honest with me."
"It's always shocking when you see that an angel's wings have tape on them," Fitzsimmons said distantly.
"Huh?"
"Never mind. Has she been honest with you about other stuff?"
"Well...yeah, but nothing this big."
"I'm going to ask again, Jack...purely in the context of itself, is what she lied about a big deal?"
"No...probably not...but then she shouldn't have lied about it."
He sighed a little. "Did you ask her why she lied?"
"...No. I mean, she said something about wanting to forget it or, like, the time with Jeff didn't count. Or something."
"And you would have preferred that she tell you about it from the beginning?"
"Of course!"
"Even if it made her uncomfortable?"
"I...what?"
"What if thinking about it makes her uncomfortable? It may be that it's a painful memory for her."
"Yeah, I'm sure it is. And I'm fine with that. But she's the one who said it first."
"Did she? How did she say it?"
"She..." How did she say it? I thought back to the first time we made love, a memory that would be etched in my mind for the rest of my life. Words were harder to remember but I tried to zero in on the context. How had we gotten onto the subject...
"I thought you would...you don't have..."
"I broke it...a couple weeks ago...Didn't want...to have to worry about it later..."
Well, shit, I guess I was the one who brought it up. But it was genuine concern! I mean, you always hear how you have to break through the hymen if it's their first time and she had never mentioned anyone else and,
I was digging a hole for myself. I knew I was wrong.
Fitzsimmons saw it in my face. "Were you the one who brought it up?"
"Out of concern for her, yeah."
"You brought it up first. And she lied about it, presumably because it was a bad memory for her. And you are upset because she lied...not necessarily because of what she lied about, but just because she lied about something that, you say, she didn't have to. Am I right so far?"
I nodded. "So are you saying I made myself upset because I started the whole thing in the first place?"
"Not at all. You can start a circle without being the one to finish it. I'm merely setting up an idea I will come back to later. Now, your 'interest' in your head the other day...what set that off?"
"I don't know. I was just looking into the bathroom mirror and...it just popped into my head and wouldn't go away and...Well, thank God Amanda knocked when she did. I might have jammed my finger right through the skin."
"Impossible," Dr. Fitzsimmons said nonchalantly, as if people suggested the idea often, "What were you thinking at the time?"
"How it would be if my head—"
"Before that. What led to these thoughts?"
"Umm..." I thought. "I'm not sure. I guess whenever thoughts like that come into my head, I'm thinking about Coach Walburn."
"What specifically?"
"How his head—"
"That's the endpoint," Fitzsimmons interrupted coolly, "What is the impetus? What starts these thoughts? What about the whole tragedy sticks with you the most?"
I thought. The obvious answer would be that, well, someone died, but I found that just a base fact like that wasn't what stuck with me. I'd read about people dying most days on the news. The fact that I saw it? Yeah, that was a big deal, but not what sent chills down my spine and made me think those unsettling thoughts. Fitzsimmons was right...there was something that stuck with me the most. That dug right to my core about the whole thing. But what? I played through the whole thing in my head again, waiting to get those chills I knew so well.
Fitzsimmons watched me think for a minute before saying, "You mentioned the other day, when we first met, that Coach Walburn gave you a reason for committing suicide."
"Yeah," I said with a sigh, "Losing his family...Shit, Doc, I think that's it." That familiar chill was running up my spine.
"What's it?"
"I think that's what sticks with me the most...I mean, I didn't even know he had a wife and son at school. Who thinks about stuff like that with teachers? But...he looked so different...like someone just stuck a needle in his arm and drained out all the life. The way he talked about his son dying...and his wife leaving...He was all alone. Hell, if I hadn't come along...I don't know if he would have done it or not but I've been trying to tell myself that he was going to do it anyway and that me being there made him feel a little better because of what happened in gym class but all I can think about is him sitting on that bench, alone...And the gun...I just keep replaying what must have happened to him in my head, how he got there and everything, and I can't even imagine what was going through his mind..."
"I think you can."
I looked up in surprise. "Huh?"
"I think you can imagine it. And I think what you imagine scares you."
"You've lost me."
"I will help you find your way again but I'm not pulling you to the path," he said placidly, "You said what happened with Coach Walburn may be a roadblock to other problems, correct?"
"Yeah, everything with me and Kayla..."
"Is what you saw the only reason?"
"Well, no. I mean, yeah, that was...God, I don't even know what to call it. It plays through my head over and over and trying to block it out makes it even worse. And I keep hearing him talk about losing his family and...I try not to, but I imagine what that must be like. Being completely alone...everyone important to you gone or dead and no one to talk to except a kid who got you fired...And imagining it scares me to hell, Doc. And then with everything going on with—"
It hit me like a sledgehammer. Fitzsimmons saw it. "Yes?"
"Shit..." I muttered, "So, like...I'm scared that the same thing is happening?"
"Is that a question or a statement?"
"Well, I don't know. I mean, yeah, I'm always afraid of losing Kayla, but this was the first time that...fuck me..."
He made a note on his pad. "Twin tragedies sometimes have a way of becoming inseparable. Of course Walburn's death affected you; you'd have to be inhuman for it not to. But coming on the heels of your...mistake, it's no surprise that it affected you much more. How was your Christmas? After you and Kayla had worked things out?"
"Fantastic. I mean, it was still in the back of my mind, but..." I could see where he was going with this.
"And when you found out she lied to you?"
I nodded. "Yeah..."
"You need to say it."
"I get it, Doc."
"Jack..." He blinked again, slowly. "You need to say it."
I sighed, swallowing a lump in my throat, and said, "I thought we were in danger of splitting up."
He nodded in approval. "I don't think you should tie all those feelings to Kayla, though."
"How do you mean?"
"Harsh as it may be to say, Jack, would your life end if you and Kayla weren't together?"
"...No." It sure would feel like it, though.
He nodded slightly. "Nor would hers end. How is your relationship with the rest of your family?"
The shift in topic was so sudden, I felt like I might have gotten whiplash. "Fine," I replied, "Great. No problems."
"So you don't have to worry about being as lonely as Walburn was."
I shook my head slightly. "Hang on. I mean, yeah, I'm not going to be lonely but...Doc, I don't want to lose Kayla. I can't lose Kayla."
"Why not?"
I sputtered. "I...because I...I love her!"
"The same way you loved Barney the Dinosaur as a kid?"
I clenched my fists and tried to keep my temper in check. "Look...Kayla's the most important person to me. Yeah, I wouldn't die if I lost her, but I'd want to. The way she makes me feel...what we have...People laugh at true love and stuff but this is it. It's real. I know it. And I don't think it's ridiculous that I feel these...bad thoughts when I think about us not being together. And she's right next door to me! I couldn't deal with that...that would kill me quicker than anything I might do if we break up."
He tapped his teeth with a thumbnail. "I could probably go out and find a dozen teenage boys who would say exactly the same thing you just said," he said calmly, "I thought much the same when I broke up with Amy Dominguez my Senior year."
The anger flared up and I made to stand. "Then what the hell—"
"I'm not saying," he interrupted, his voice somehow cutting straight through mine without an inflection or change in volume, "that what you have with Kayla is not special. I believe that it's true love. I believe that you will marry her and have wonderful children and that your life with her will be as happy and fulfilling as mine is with my wife. But I'll tell you this, Jack...my wife and I have lied to each other, many of them much larger than the one Kayla told you." He held up his hand, showing me the ring on his finger. "But this hasn't budged once. Now...tell me why that is."
I chewed my lip, shrugging my shoulders. "I mean...you love her and—"
"I know you're smarter than empty platitudes, Jack. You can be honest."
I was silent for a minute. "You worked at it," I finally replied, my voice quiet. I felt ashamed; I knew I had not worked as hard as I could with Kayla. And I knew he was going to bring it up. I braced myself.
"We did," Fitzsimmons said, "We had arguments, fights, and I had to learn what it's like to sleep on a couch more than once but never once did the thought of separating ever cross our minds."
Knowing he was building toward something, I tried to steer the conversation away. "I didn't know psychologists talked about their personal lives," I said in what I hoped was a conversational voice.
"They can. Of course, I could just be lying to you to illustrate a point. Lying or not, the point remains the same: it happens. Lying happens. It is not good, desirable, or easy to take, and it never will be, but if you love her, you can work through it. It's a quid-pro-quo deal, though."
I was confused. "What?"
"You're upset because Kayla did not tell you about something that happened in the past. Something...let us call it 'significant'. And she lied about it, for a reason. No one lies just to lie unless they're a sociopath, which I don't believe she is. You might see it as her not trusting you enough to tell you, but let me ask you...have you talked to her about what happened with Walburn?"
I started at my hands, twisting around themselves slowly as if trying to unlock a cage of their own making. "No," I replied.
"And why not?"
"She said we would talk about it when I was ready. And I haven't been ready yet."
"Understandable. Have you talked about your feelings, though?" I raised an eyebrow. "The event can wait. How it makes you feel cannot. This is one of the most shocking, horrifying things you will ever see. And you're only sixteen. If no one else, shouldn't you confide in the woman you say is your true love?"
"Well, yeah, but it's..." The word that was going to come up next made me so ashamed that I felt like I was going to gag on self-loathing.
"Hard?" His voice was gentle, not accusatory. I nodded. "How much harder for her to talk about how she lost her virginity to a guy like Jeff instead of a guy like you?"
Those words pierced through my ear right down to my heart. It didn't stab my heart so much as gently insert itself, crawling through an opening and planting a seed that grew so quickly, I felt like I was choking. A tear slid down my cheek. "Oh," was all I could say. The rest was caught in a web of shame.
Fitzsimmons' face, for the first time, twisted into something resembling an emotion. Which one, I could not say. "You said as well that you were more angered by the fact that she lied to you than what she lied about. Do you remember what I said about the angel's wings?" I nodded. "I love my wife more than anything. But when it comes time for pasta night, I suddenly get a stomach ache, and I have to remind her not to tell jokes at parties. She doesn't understand the concept of a punchline."
I laughed a little. "Sorry."
He shrugged. "She tells me I snore like a hog and that she will be teaching our children to drive when they're old enough, just so they understand the concept of 'staying on the road'. Now...what do you think my point is?"
I was still recovering from what he had said about how hard it would be for Kayla to talk about what had happened. I remembered her face when she was forced to talk about it: desperate, pained, regretful. She could have talked to me about it...but I couldn't hold her to a standard I wasn't willing to meet myself. I hadn't even thought about how it must feel...hell, I still didn't really know how it felt. I hadn't even bothered to ask her yet. All day yesterday, all I could do was think about this meeting with Fitzsimmons while she did her best to cheer me up. And all that stuff she had tried to forget, dragged back up to the surface.
Damn...
I finally looked up to see Fitzsimmons looking at me expectantly. "Oh, um...nobody's perfect?"
"That's a simple version of it, but yes. You've been with Kayla for, what, four months?" I nodded. "She is exactly who you fell in love with. But...well, the honeymoon is over. You have to take the doll off the shelf and see the scuffmarks." Nice metaphor. "Holding onto an image will blind you to reality. Does knowing that she was holding something back from you those four months change how happy they have been?"
"...No."
"Did you hold some things back from her?"
"...Yes."
He shifted in his seat and sighed in his chest. "My job is not to tell you exactly what you need to do, if for no other reason than you'd sue me in a heartbeat if things went wrong." I cracked a small smile. "But I can suggest and I will suggest this as hard as I can...communicate. I know you two talk to each other. Not just lovey-dovey stuff but conversations with meaning and substance. Probably about the future. How you view the world now. Stuff like that. But you need to communicate who you are."
"Doesn't who I am come out in my actions?"
"Partly, yes. But how can you act something that bothers you?" He held up his pen. "If someone used to stab you repeatedly with a pen, how would I understand your flinching whenever I gave you one unless you told me? How do you share your dreams, your hopes, your desires if you don't say them out loud? You are interested in Kayla's life, right?"
"Of course."
"Where did she live before she moved here?"
Um...shit... "I don't know."
"Why not?" I didn't have an answer and he knew it. "This is a turning point in your relationship, Jack. You have to accept her as a person, not an idea."
"I do! I did!" I replied hotly.
"You love her and you have since you told her you did. That I truly believe. But how often have you seen her as an icon on a pedestal? An angel incapable of imperfection?" Again, I didn't have an answer. There was no point; he knew it already. "My wife is not perfect but she's perfect for me. Can you say the same about Kayla?" He held up his hand to stop me. "You need to think about it. Even more important...you need to talk to her about it. Big events, big decisions, big considerations...if she is the love of your life, they should happen together."
I brooded over that for a few moments. I thought I had always been open with her. I couldn't remember a lie...well, a direct lie at least. If I kept stuff from her, it was because I didn't want her to...Well, that was the problem, wasn't it? I didn't want her to become involved. Sure, I could tell myself I was trying to protect her or spare her pain I was going through but...We'd talked a lot about trust. If I wanted her to trust me with her painful past, I had to trust her with my painful present. I had to have an interest in her, the good and the bad.
I sighed. Fitzsimmons was right; I had been thinking about her like a perfect angel. She was still perfect for me, as beautiful and sweet and loving as ever, but she was a person. The same as I was. And we could share everything because we were the same. Share everything...God, that was going to be hard.
Fitzsimmons let me think, watching me placidly as my thoughts inscribed themselves in my brain. "I will communicate with her more," I finally said, "I know I have to. What about the stuff with Walburn? How do I get that out of my head?"
"As I said before, the two issues are not completely independent. Your own strength may see you through your grief and trauma but the pain, as you acknowledged, comes from fear. An understandable fear, one anyone might have. Fear of being completely alone. You are not alone, nor will you be as long as you have your family, but..." He raised an eyebrow as if expecting an answer.
"But if Kayla is the most important person to me, fixing things with her will take away the fear," I said slowly.
"It will not take it away but it will help lessen its impact when the memories come again."
I smiled a little. "I thought you were going to guide me, not give me the answers."
"If you like, I can put 'It's just my opinion, but...' or 'It's my belief that...' before everything I say so that you are aware all of this is subjective. If you require."
"No, no, I'm good."
"Good." His eyes slid to a clock on the wall. "Our hour is almost up," he commented crisply, "I should point out that what I have told you is professional opinion, not gospel."
"I know."
"Good. But I would recommend taking it to heart. Lord knows there's plenty of teenage boys looking to stick a notch on every bedpost they come across. You and Kayla are quite...refreshing."
I laughed a little. "Thanks. Glad we're setting a standard."
"Communication. Trust." He said the words with the crisp enunciation of an English schoolteacher. "Whatever happens to you two, those will help you along."
"Okay. It's going to be hard...but she's worth it."
For the first time, Fitzsimmons actually gave a smile. "I'm sure she is."
"Did you want to see her too? To help her the same way you helped me?"
"If I had spoken to her first, I would tell her exactly what I told you and what I'm going to tell you now: you two can help each other more than I can."
I blinked. "You mean...you don't think we need more sessions."
He considered me through half-closed eyes. "Need...perhaps not. I might recommend more, and not just for the paycheck, but I think this is a moment where I have to leave the decision to you."
"Really?" I was confused. "Aren't you supposed to tell me this is going to be a weekly thing and you want to see me next week, same time?"
The smile returned. "If you were disturbed, violent, or potentially psychotic, I would."
"But my thoughts..."
"Were thoughts and curiosity. Did you actually want to?"
I considered the question. "No. I just wondered what it would be like."
"'For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause'," he quoted with a self-amused smirk, "I've long said human beings spend more time thinking about death than thinking about life."
"Is that a challenge?"
He actually laughed at that, an oddly rich sound that I had not been expecting. "Take it and if you win by the end of your life, give me a ring wherever the hell we go after death." He stood up and said, "That's all the time we have."
I stood as well, pulling out the check from my wallet. "Here," I said, handing him the check, "$100, right?"
He took it solicitously. "Thank you. And keep in contact, will you?"
"Shouldn't you be contacting me?"
"When the day comes that I require your assistance, you'll be the first number I ring." He opened the door and held out his hand. "I hope everything goes well, Jack. It's in your hands now."
I shook his hand firmly. "Thanks, Doc. Growing up kinda sucks, doesn't it?"
"More than you know. And remembering what it was like as a child is even harder. Take care." With a final nod of his head, he closed the door.
It was extra chilly outside, despite the clouds being a much lighter cover than they had been for the last few days. The sun even tried to poke its head out through a few minute gaps, making it a cheery day, if not completely cheerful. I got in my car, turning it on and letting it heat up before I started for home. Once my hands had warmed up to the point where they no longer felt like sticks, I pulled out my phone and shot a message to Kayla.
Me: Hey, beautiful. All done.
She had gone out shopping with my mom, Amanda, and Tara to spend a little of the Christmas money that had substituted when gifts couldn't be thought of. I doubted she'd respond; girls and shopping and all that. But I figured I should let her know. To communicate more.
Even when the car had warmed to a level that had me considering taking my coat off, I still didn't pull out of the parking lot. Everything I'd talked with Fitzsimmons about was still swirling in my head, trying to fit together like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. It was weird...I'd never considered that the troubles with Kayla and seeing Coach Walburn die might be the solution to each other. Well, okay, that's a bad way to put it. To solve one would be to solve the other...I think. It was still kind of confusing. I understood the outline of what Fitzsimmons had recommended but the actual content was left up to me (purposefully) to fill in. I had understood the basic connection between the two incidents before, at least in regard to my mood; two bad things happening around the same time? No wonder my thoughts turned disturbing.
Part of me wanted to be offended by his suggestion that Kayla and I needed to communicate better. I mean, we talked all the time. Every day. We'd never run out of things to talk about. And I doubted we ever would. But maybe that was the problem: we were talking about things. Oh, sure, we discussed our feelings and our hopes and dreams but...yeah, I couldn't remember the last time we'd actually discussed how something had impacted us. I remember, after the whole incident with Brad, we'd been supportive of each other through the adjustment period, but we'd never discussed the actual impact.
Maybe because I'd convinced myself that it was pointless to do so. Part of me still agreed. It was over with and we'd moved on. Why discuss it more?
Then again, how cold does it sound to say that losing a friend I'd had for most of my life affected me about as much as a fart affects the ozone?
Damn...my mind must still be screwy to think of metaphors like that. Either that or Fitzsimmons was rubbing off on me.
I shook my head as I felt the heat from the vent scalding my fingers. I quickly turned down the fan and pulled out of the parking lot.
I spent the ride home mulling over how I wanted to talk to Kayla. Not exactly how to communicate but how to let her know we both needed to do that. Fitzsimmons had been pretty blunt about it but, well, that was his job. I couldn't just go up to Kayla and say, "Hey, we need to communicate better if this relationship is going to work." And the relationship was working. This would probably just end up being a bump (I prayed, anyway). But I think the jist of what Fitzsimmons had been saying was that the relationship was evolving because how we saw each other was evolving. She was the girl I had fallen in love with...but now I saw the edges, the complexities, the workings behind her beautiful face. I'd never thought of her just as simply 'my girlfriend', but then I don't know how much I'd seen her as...complete.
To put it simply, since even I'm confusing myself with all this, I think I'd been so focused on her now that I didn't focus on how she became who she was now. I wasn't just now; I was everything I had been, was, and would be. The past, the present, and the future. And I had to accept her as that as well. I could...it was a question of how. And how I could communicate this to her and do the same.
Even as I thought this, I figured I should ask to join Kayla's Philosophy class. If nothing else, I'd sure as hell sound smart.
I could hear the shouting even from outside, as soon as I opened the car door. I couldn't understand what was said so at least the mood wasn't murderous...yet...but it was disquieting all the same. I rushed into the house, each step making the voices clearer and the words more intelligible. It sounded like dad and Alan.
Dad yelling, I got. If Alan did something wrong, he was facing the fallout. But Alan yelling back? The hell was going on?
By the time I opened the door, the words were clear. "...disgusting without throwing it in my face!" That was dad.
"Disgusting?! You said you were fine with it! I sure as hell haven't been going around telling everyone what Amanda and I do when we're alone!"
Something thumped to the ground and for a horrible second I thought dad had knocked Alan to the ground. I raced up the stairs, heart thudding with every step I took, and burst into dad's office, where the shouting had been coming from.
To my immense relief, Alan was still standing. A thick cluster of books lay scattered across the ground, the victim of an angry swipe from my dad. They stood a couple of yards apart, bodies clenched in rage and eyes blazing. They didn't even notice me come in.
"She's your sister!" dad roared, "If you're having a hard time finding a girl at school then look at porn or something!"
"If you're so disgusted by it, why did you say 'yes' in the first place!?" Alan shot back, spit flying from his mouth, "It's been months! Clearly you didn't have a problem with it!"
"Didn't have a problem?! It's disgusting! She's your sister!" he shouted again, his voice loud enough to rattle my bones, "How you can do something like that and not want to puke, I don't even want to know!"
"I love her!" Alan bellowed, angry tears forming in his eyes, "More than I could love some other girl from school! As much as Jack loves Kayla! Or you love mom!"
"Don't you dare compare—"
"Why not?" Alan interrupted hotly, his voice sounding desperate beneath the anger, "If I love her as much as you love mom, who cares who she is? I love her, dad!"
"And I love pepperoni pizza! I'm not going to shove my dick inside it!"
"This isn't about sex, dad! This is about love! Like...real love! If you can't accept that after three months, I'm not the one who's got issues!"
Dad's arm shot out again in anger, sending the scotch decanter on his desk flying. "She is your sister!"
"Oh, sure! Let's throw things!" Alan shouted, turning to one of the bookshelves and seizing a couple books before hurling them in the air, "Yeah, this solves a lot! Let's shout and throw stuff and maybe we'll land on something we can agree on, is that it! Huh, dad?! Come on, let's go crazy!" He threw a couple more books.
Dad stepped forward and seized his arms. "STOP IT!"
"OR WHAT?! YOU'LL HIT ME?! DO IT!" Alan thrust his face up. "DO IT! HIT ME AND MAYBE YOU'LL KNOCK OUT EVERYTHING YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT ME!"
I took a step forward. I didn't believe dad would do anything of the sort but fear pushed me to involuntary motion. And it was that movement that drew their eyes to me. For a second, it was like looking into the same face; same structure, same eyes, same look of blind, heartfelt fury. Then the look disappeared and they slowly came apart, awkward expressions of guilt on their faces.
Both tried to speak but were unable to form words. After a minute, Alan gave dad one last disgusted look and pushed past me, the angry tears barely held back. I wanted to say something but figured it would be better if I talked to him alone; this subject would only bring up more shouting if we were around dad.
I bent down and helped dad pick up the stuff that had 'fallen' to the floor. "How was the session?" dad asked in a stiff voice that squashed all attempts at nonchalantness.
"Good," I replied, trying to keep my tone easy, "Lots to think about."
"Good."
I didn't want to say anything else and I don't think that he could say anything else. I was comfortable in the silence but he was fidgety, his mouth twitching and his eyes constantly glancing at me as if he were on the verge of saying something. I pretended not to notice.
"Are you going to hang out with Kayla when the girls get back?" he asked, probably just to put something out there in the way of conversation.
"Probably. I figured we'd go out. Do something." If we were going to talk about better communication and everything, I wanted to make sure we were alone. And besides, we'd been hanging out too much at each other's houses. That was all well and good but...well, variety is the spice of life, after all.
"Is Tara going with you?"
I looked at him, suspicious at once. That would leave just him, mom, and the twins. I had a nasty suspicion that what I had walked in on would continue and they were more comfortable doing it out of our earshot; Tara since she didn't know and me because they knew I'd argue. But the way dad was shouting...if he changed his mind again, there was really nothing else I could say. I'd said everything I could. If he puts his foot down, then it's down. That will be the end.
"I doubt it," I replied, casually, "She's gotta start packing, right?"
"Mmm." Dad didn't change his expression but I didn't like the fact that he couldn't respond with words. That meant he was thinking. What he was thinking about, I could only guess.
We finished picking up everything and he sighed, stretching and rubbing his face with his hands. "I think I'm going to put off partying for a while," he said absentmindedly.
"Not enough sleep?"
"No, just getting old. I remember...in college, I used to be able to party all night and run a marathon the next day."
I laughed. "Really?"
"A marathon? Are you kidding? I hate running. Metaphor." He sat down behind his desk. "I hate getting old."
"You're not that old, dad."
"I still remember when I was nineteen. If I had died then and relived my entire life up until that point, it's equal to where I am now." He shuddered. "Do you remember when you were eight?"
"Yeah...Bits and pieces."
"How far back do you remember?"
I thought, thankful to be off the subject of the twins. "Four. Even that's kinda hazy."
"So one fourth of your life is a blank. Lucky you. I remember most of it." He rubbed his face again. "And I remember promising myself never to feel this exhausted."
I watched him, noting that, without his usual smile and smartass humor, he looked a little gaunt. "What's up, dad?"
He sighed long and low. "I don't know...I just feel..." His face twisted on itself, a mixture of discontent and boredom that I recognized from the beginning of the school year.
"Like you're in a rut?"
He pointed at me with his hand. "Exactly. God, I hope I'm not hitting a midlife crisis. If I have to know that I die at seventy-six, that's not going to help anything."
I gave him an encouraging smile. "You're gonna be okay, dad. Do you need anything?"
He blew out his lips. "No, I think I'm good. Are you doing okay?"
"Yeah, I am. I've got a lot of stuff to think about but I think I'm gonna be okay."
"Good. I'll see you later." He gave me a weary smile and then turned to his computer and started typing away.
That's dad for you. Screaming one minute, typing away at his computer the next. Denial? Weariness? You make the call. Not that I couldn't understand his predicament. I mean, a relationship between his son and daughter? Hell, if that happened with my children...I don't know how I would react. It's not exactly something you prepare for. On top of that, he had to make sure they didn't do something stupid like tell anyone, make sure the family was kept secure, get his work done, pay the bills...I might not agree with his view on their relationship but I understood his state of mind. Poor guy.
Speaking of which...
I heard a steady thumping coming from Alan's room as I approached and I opened the door to find him lying on his bed, bouncing a tennis ball off the wall. "Hey, bro," I said, closing the door behind me.
"Hey," he replied glumly, "Is he ready to kick me out?"
"I didn't talk about it," I replied.
"Probably best." He caught the tennis ball one-handed and then dropped it onto the floor. "If he can't make up his mind, he shouldn't have said he was okay with it in the first place."
"Yeah..."
He looked at me narrowly. "What?"
"What?"
"What's going on? You don't agree with him, do you?"
"No, I don't. But...if he changes his mind again, I don't know that I'll be able to convince him to change it back a third time."
"Hang on." He frowned and thought. "A third time? When was the second?"
Damn it. "A while ago he talked to me about it. Said he wasn't sure he made the right decision. I convinced him otherwise but a third time...I don't know."
Alan flipped over onto his stomach and stared moodily out the window. "You'd think dad and I would think more alike."
"Why?"
"Oh, come on. We're basically the same." He grinned at me and, to his credit, it did look like dad's grin, right down to the right corner being slightly higher than the left. Add to that the looks, the sense of humor, even the barking laugh...
"Yeah, I see it."
The grin disappeared. "Then why do I feel like I'm the problem child."
I shrugged. "Because you are."
"Do me a favor. Hand me that tennis ball, will you? I need to bean it at your head."
I laughed shortly. "So what was he so worked up about."
He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Amanda and I were talking on the phone and I ended by saying 'I love you'."
"What? That's it?"
"I...may have made some kissing noises at the end, too." He blushed.
I didn't laugh, mainly because it looked like he expected me to. "That's it?"
"Yeah. He was listening in and said I shouldn't do that because Amanda's with Tara and out in public so, you know, awkward questions and shit."
"Wow."
"I know! Now I can't even..."
He started to ramble but my mind was elsewhere, noticing how this was growing into a problem. If dad was going to blow his top about fairly innocuous things like that, maybe he was looking for an excuse to end it. And if it ended, would he send one of them away, just to make sure nothing happened again? It's not like he and mom could be around all the time.
Damn it.
"Jack!"
I snapped back. "Yeah?"
"It'd be nice if you were paying attention."
"Sorry."
He shrugged and fell back on the bed. "Whatever. Probably got everything from your shrink to think about."
"Yeah..."
"Hang on, I'm gonna get you the dictionary so you can learn more than one-syllable words."
I forced myself to chuckle. "Did you need anything?"
"Nope. I'm good." He sounded far from good but I wasn't going to press the issue. "No...fuck, Jack, I just want things to go back to the way they were."
"When?" I was thinking about my own desire along the same lines.
"Before Tara came and limited all our time," he grunted, "Or...maybe back before mom and dad found out."
"You'd rather go back to the sneaking around?"
"As long as I didn't have dad in the other room thinking about forcing us apart, yeah. I'd rather have that."
I sighed. "It'll all work out."
He leaned over and grabbed the tennis ball, bouncing it against the wall. "Yeah...sure." He sounded more sad than angry now. Why haven't I been given a magic 'Fix' button yet?
I played Skyrim for a while but my mind was miles away. I was thinking about Alan and dad, how everything that had been acceptable for so long was now hanging by a thread. About Craig and how he must be doing; I'd sent him and Becca a couple of texts but neither had responded yet. Mostly, I thought about Kayla and what we were going to talk about. How was it going to turn out? What decision were we going to end on about our communication?
I thought about what Fitzsimmons had said about growing up. How it sucks more than I thought. I think, hidden within 'growing up', was the idea that nothing would ever be exactly as it was. Kayla and I were not as innocent and carefree as we had been at the beginning. Alan and Amanda weren't going to be able to continue their relationship with the blissful ignorance of our parents. Dad wasn't going to be able to think all of his children were sweet little angels. And I wasn't going to be able to see the world in bright sprays of optimism anymore.
Yeah...growing up really sucks.
It was another twenty minutes before my phone pinged and I opened it to find a new message from Kayla.
Kayla: Awesome! On our way back.
Jeez. And it was barely midafternoon. I figured they'd be gone all day, what with clothes shopping and everything. Apparently it's a girl thing. I just don't get the appeal.
It was another twenty minutes until I heard the crunch of tires in the driveway and I looked out my window to see the girls pulling thick shopping bags from the trunk of the car. I thumped down the stairs just as they knocked on the door. "Got it!" I called as I turned the knob to let them in.
"Thanks Jack!" Tara gasped as she slid in first, two bags per hand. The other slid in behind her, similarly burdened.
"Was there anything left for the other customers?" dad asked drily, eying the bags.
Mom stuck out her tongue at him as she set down the bags in the hallway. "My arms are tired," she said casually, "Honey, could you help carry these upstairs?"
He glanced at his watchless wrist. "I'd love to but I've got Thing at Now."
"It will wait or you'll be bringing your pillow down to the couch," she said with honey-like sweetness. He rolled his eyes theatrically but grabbed the bags, eyes widening slightly at the weight as he lugged them up the stairs, closely followed by mom.
"You guys have a good time?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah," Amanda replied, flexing her hands, "Found the cutest red dress and a pair of slacks in a purple shade I've been wanting forever." She peeked into the bag. "And various other things should any dating prospects pop up in the near future."
This was purely for Tara, who was the only one who responded. "Ohhhh," she giggled, "You have someone in mind?"
"Maybe."
"Tell me! Tell me!"
"I don't know if it's anything yet," Amanda replied coolly, catching my eye for a second. Give her credit; she was good about covering her tracks.
"Awww," Tara pouted, "I wanna be the first one to hear if something happens!"
"You will." I could hear the crossed fingers in her voice.
"Oh, Amanda," I said, seeing that Kayla, who had been hanging near the door, was giving me a significant look, "I think Alan wanted to talk to you about something."
She frowned slightly. "What about?"
"Not sure. Something about a call earlier or something?"
Still looking confused, she said, "Okay...He upstairs?"
"Yep." If this was going to hell, I at least wanted them both to be prepared.
"Thanks." She seized her bags and tried to negotiate the stairs so that they didn't bang into every step along the way.
That left Tara, Kayla, and I alone in an unspoken awkwardness with the memory of the last time we were together hanging over our heads. Tara didn't know what had happened afterwards and I wasn't planning on telling her; the awkwardness of me turning down the threesome was awkward enough, even if we had parted on somewhat amiable terms.
Tara smiled at Kayla. "What do you wanna do now?" she asked cheerfully, as if she were not aware of what was going on underneath our polite looks.
Kayla looked down at her bags and then at me. "I'm gonna run these over to my house. Jack, can you help me?"
"Of course." She was holding up her bags with no sign of stress. I knew what was really going on.
Tara may not have understood it as I did but I don't think she bought that Kayla needed any more help carrying her bags than Amanda had. Nevertheless, she grinned and said, "Okay. Catch up with you later?"
"You know it, girl," Kayla replied with a warm smile. Thinking back to when I had kissed Tara, I realized that I had never seen Kayla actually get mad at her. What had she been feeling when Tara came over to talk to her? And what had the talked about, besides the threesome, that had wiped away any lingering resentment?
For appearances' sake, if nothing else, I took one of her bags as we left the house. Dad had been exaggerating the weight, but not by much. How the hell can a shirt weigh next to nothing and yet a bunch of them somehow equate to a bagged boulder? Eesh.
The snow had melted a little bit the past couple of days so we weren't trudging through the snow...though the price was having to slush through wetness that soaked our socks and numbed our toes. It was a short walk but by the end, my toes were feeling pruney. It was with great relief that I was able to pull off my socks and shoes once we got inside, though the skin squeaked a little on the wood floor.
Kayla led me to the living room, her face hollow-looking as she bit her lip and looked at me with something important hiding just behind her lips. I was thankful her parents weren't home: I'd hate having to explain the need for this conversation with Mr. Hannigan hanging in the background.
She didn't speak for a minute, her lips and teeth working as the words fought to break free of her mouth, so I took the initiative. "It was a good session," I said, "With Fitzsimmons...the shrink, I mean."
"That's good," she said, the lips forcing themselves out. Then, all in a rush, she started to speak, trampling over everything else I might have said: "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Jack. Really, really sorry. I just...it was a real bad experience for me and...I realize I didn't really explain it as anything other than a 'bad experience' and...yeah, I'm still a little upset that you said what you said but I understand and what I really, really hope is, if I tell you, you'll understand, too. Because I love you, Jack. And I'm going to be honest and open with you about stuff like this because once you found out...I don't know, there was some sort of relief. Like, now that it was out, this thing I'd kept locked up wasn't eating away at me anymore and...I don't know, I'm not making a lot of sense, am I?"
I took her hand and sat her down on the couch. "I'm sorry for being an asshole," I said seriously, "And, as long as you're okay with it, I want to hear."
She blinked, probably surprised how sincere I sounded, but then took a deep breath. I held her hands and she squeezed them. "Jeff...was not a great guy. I don't know if he was even a good guy, but he was the only guy to pay attention to me in middle school. I mean, I was the silly girl with the stupid hair bow. I had friends but that meant they were able to say it to my face and I had to laugh with them. Jeff...well, if he laughed, I never heard about it. He seemed nice and sweet and actually interested in me. My parents forbade me from dating until I was in high school but we hung out a lot and...we had fun. I mean, not like you and I have fun..." She colored. "And not like that kind of fun. Like...fun fun. Shit..."
I squeezed her hand gently. "It's okay. Take your time."
She took another deep breath. "First day of high school was the first date. Then I was his girlfriend. Then...I was just his. It was weird...I kept sensing that stuff was different but I didn't really see it. I didn't want to, I guess. I don't know. It was like...if I had an idea, it had to go through him first. Anything I said needed to be commented on, like he was giving it a stamp of approval or something." She shrugged helplessly. "I...didn't see it. Or if I did, I didn't see it, know what I mean? It was like being a personal cheerleader or something.
"I guess I didn't mind. If I did, I probably would have gotten out. I was just so thrilled to have somebody paying attention to me. And he always had compliments and smiles and texts all day. But I couldn't be a person with him. And he'd get really irritated if I tried to say something that he disagreed with or seemed to take someone else's side against him or...anything that wasn't in complete agreement with him. Even if I didn't know. Once I suggested we go skating and he told me he hated skating and accused me of trying to humiliate him. He never mentioned anything about skating before. I didn't know. But the really shitty thing was...he always knew how to make me feel like it was my fault. I don't know if I just didn't have enough self-confidence or whatever but whenever he accused me of something or told me I was doing something wrong or that he was right and I needed to accept it, I just agreed and shut the hell up."
There were tears in her eyes and I pulled her in for a quick hug. She leaned against me for a moment before pulling back, wiping away the tears. "I thought, maybe, if I told him that I loved him, he'd change. Maybe see me as an equal or something. I guess I kind of convinced myself I was, just because he was still dating me even though I was apparently this big disappointment or something. So I told him one night when we were alone in his car and...well, that made him really happy and he kissed me and...things went from there." Her jaw worked for a few seconds before she continued. "He stuck it in, broke my cherry, and was done less than a minute later. Then he pulled up his pants and said he had to get home or he'd miss Game of Thrones." I grimaced. She didn't notice. "That did it for me. If all he could do with my 'I love you' was lose his virginity, and mine, then I wasn't going to stick around for what he'd do with the next one. Besides...we were moving anyway. I hadn't thought about how we'd do the whole long-distance relationship thing. With no relationship, I didn't have to worry about it anymore."
"What did he think about it?" I asked.
"He wasn't happy. Said that if he knew we were going to break up, he wouldn't have even bothered hanging out with me in the first place, stuff like that. How much it cost him taking me out on dates that were completely pointless now that we weren't together anymore. Didn't hurt that much." She drew a shuddering breath. "But...there was always some part that...when he texted me the first time, I deleted it right away. He kept texting and finally I had to text back, just to tell him to stop. I've been asking myself why I didn't just delete him and the only thing I can think of is part of me still thought I owed him something. He was always good at that. I don't know if it was just the thrill of his first girlfriend or his first time having sex but he latched onto me and...I couldn't break free."
The tears were starting again. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't want to think about being with him, when I didn't feel like my own person. Or even a person. I don't know why I didn't just delete him, other than maybe I was still afraid that he would disapprove and tell me that I was stupid for doing something he didn't want me to. I know I should have told you and you could have helped me but I hate that time in my life and if the only reminder I have is him texting me occasionally and being able to ignore it...I guess that was enough. If I had to talk about it..." She shuddered a little.
"How do you feel now that you've talked about it?" I asked, gently wiping away her tears with my thumb.
"Light," she said a little breathlessly, "Better, I guess. Hang on." She pulled out her phone and tapped on it for a moment before showing me the screen. It was the contact for Jeff Graham. Her thumb hovered over the 'Block' button and, after taking a deep breath, she pressed it.
There was silence for a minute as we just looked at each other. Slowly, she lowered her phone and, it seemed, her shoulders seemed to sag a bit, as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Her breath came out in a long, low sigh, almost like a moan. "Now how do you feel?" I asked.
In response, she leaned up, took my face in her hands, and kissed me softly. We held the kiss for a minute before she pulled back and smiled. "So good," she replied, her eyes fluttering closed. She leaned against me. "I'm sorry."
"I know," I replied, wrapping an arm around her. It was another minute before I said, "And, just so you know, I love skating."
She giggled and looked up at me. "I never imagined you cutting figure-8's."
"I never said I'm great."
"When was the last time you went skating?" My hesitation said it all. She looked at the clock. "You wanna go to the rink? We could both use a little fun."
"Sure," I said, thinking how well this fit into my plans of taking her out and doing something fun. And she was right; we both needed it.
"Yay," she said, smiling at me. It was mostly happiness, but I could see a little bit of sadness as well. No surprise; talking about all that stuff had to have been hard. And I was going to have to talk about Walburn's death...joy...
We stopped by my house really quick to let my parents know where we were going. "Be safe!" mom called from upstairs, "Enjoy yourselves!"
Tara was putting on her new running shoes, flexing them on her toes as she put on her running jacket and a headband. "Breaking them in?" I asked, looking at the shoes.
"Yep!" she chirruped, rolling her heels around in the shoes, "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"I don't know," she said, stretching her legs, "You both look kinda glum. Everything go okay with the doctor?"
"Yeah," I said, "Really good. He helped a lot."
"Awesome," she said, smiling warmly, "Enjoy skating. I'm gonna show the people around here how real runners do it."
Kayla laughed. "What makes you think we don't have good runners around here?"
"Because they look at me like I'm the Road Runner whenever I go by," Tara replied, giving a sassy bump of her rear as she sauntered out the door.
Kayla cat-called after her then turned to me. "That's not too much, is it?"
"You don't have to check in with me," I said, running a hand down her arm, "If it bugs me, I'll tell you."
"Thanks," she replied, kissing me on the cheek. "Oh!" She pulled out her phone and started tapping it with blurry thumbs.
"What?" I asked, lacing on my boots.
"Gotta block Jeff on Facebook too."
I made a face. "Stalker?"
"He liked to comment on my 'gorgeous new pics'." We made a face together and fell into a fit of giggles.
The only ice rink in town was an outdoor one, which suited us just fine; the sun was finally starting to break through the cloud cover and, if it didn't warm the air, it at least gave everything a nice glow. There were a few other people out on the ice: a family with two children, two other couples, and a group of kids closely watched by a chaperoning adult. Not too crowded. Just right.
We were just pulling up into the parking lot when Kayla's phone rang. She pulled it out and frowned at the screen. "What's up?" I asked.
She showed me the screen. No name, just a phone number. "Don't know it," she said, "Should I answer?"
I shrugged. "Worst comes to worst, you just hang up."
"True." She tapped the phone and held it up to her ear, "Hello?" Her face darkened at once.
I tapped her on the shoulder. "Jeff?" I mouthed.
She nodded curtly. "Yes, I did...because I'm done...Done...I don't have to explain anything...I did...More than once...Oh, the lack of responses didn't?...Yeah, busy with my boyfriend...No, I don't...No, I don't...I guess it was...Yeah, and a lot better...I tried being nice about it, so if I have to be a bitch about...don't interrupt me!...No, it was just because you wouldn't let me...A lot, actually...You didn't care. You just said you were right and I was wrong and whoop-de-do, aren't you so clever...Uh huh...Sure...For five months. What did you want?...Well, officially, signed-and-sealed, no misunderstanding, I don't want to talk to you anymore. I don't want you communicating with me. No calls, messages, texts, emails, nothing...Yeah, he is...You want to what?" She lowered the phone and looked at me with an expression somewhere between astonishment and insulted. "He wants to talk to you."
"Really?" I held out my hand for the phone.
She knocked it away and put the phone to her ear again. "No...Because I said no...Because this has nothing to do with him...No, it doesn't. We were done before I met him...Well, now we're double done...Whatever, Jeff, can you just hang up please? This isn't going anywhere...Just like our relationship, yes. Thank you for being tactful as ever." She hung up the phone and dropped it with a flick of her wrist. I couldn't tell if she was angry or hurt.
We sat in silence for a bit while I let her stew in her feelings. I glanced sideways at her once or twice and saw her jaw working slightly and her eyes full of hard fire. She was tense, like she would spring at any second. If she had still been holding her phone, she may have thrown it through the windshield. And I think it was to Jeff's credit that he didn't call or message in that silent time.
Eventually, she let out a long breath and slumped back against the seat. "Well, that was a barrel of fun," she said acidly.
"Why did he want to talk to me?" I asked.
"Who knows?" She looked at me. "Did you want to talk to him?"
"I mean...I would have."
"Damn it...I know how it looks but I promise I wasn't trying to stop him telling you anything or keeping something else a secret. I just thought that this should be my thing to finish. I dragged it out long enough."
I took her hand. "I don't think you were trying to hide anything."
She bit her upper lip and shook her head. "If you did, I wouldn't be surprised. I haven't been—"
"Let's skate," I cut in. She looked at me, puzzled. "We're here for fun and happiness. I'm not seeing that. So let's go."
She offered a thin smile. "Sounds great."
We grabbed a pair of skates, left our regular shoes at the kiosk where the clerk stored them in the 'somewhere' behind the counter, and tentatively stepped onto the ice, clutching each other's' arm. Kayla recovered quicker than I did, mainly because I hadn't been skating for years. Jeez, how old was I when I last stepped onto the ice? Five? Six? Young enough that I still had to hold my parents' hands, I remember that. And I think I still had the butt-bruises from the experience as well.
I had, however, been roller-skating in between then and now and once I got the hang of the step-glide effect (which Kayla effortlessly conformed to within a few seconds) it just became a matter of keeping my balance and praying the ice didn't break beneath me. Kayla was at the point of skating backwards, keeping her eyes on me as she glided in reverse, holding onto my hands as much for support as affection.
We skated in silence for a while, mainly because I was still trying to get used to the whole skating concept. The inability to master it instantly kind of frustrated me. I figure, once I've been driving a car for ten years, I'll still know how to ride a bike. So why the heck was this giving me so much trouble? I could barely skate straight; it always seemed like my feet were wobbling and jittering, ready to fly off in different directions. Kayla had joked earlier about me cutting figure-8s; I was barely able to make a 1.
Eventually, we rested against the railing alone the edge of the rink, my legs cramped and crying for release. I sagged against the railing and massaged my thighs, discreetly so it didn't look like I was doing something inappropriate to myself. Kayla leaned forward against the railing, her hair and bow fluttering gently in the mild breeze. Her face was turned away, presumably watching the other skaters.
"How do you do this so easily?" I asked, groaning as I squeezed the cramped muscle.
"What a waste," she muttered.
"Hmm?" I said, looking up.
She turned to me with a look that would have been more cheerful if there were tears in her eyes. "That was what he said to me right at the end of the call. A waste. And this was the guy I almost ruined our relationship over."
"No, you didn't," I said quickly, putting my hands on her shoulders, "It wasn't going to be ruined."
She looked up at me with steady eyes, soft with sadness. "I should have told you. I know I keep saying that and repeating it but it's what I keep repeating to myself in my head. I keep trying to justify it but even what I told you, about trying to forget that something really shitty happened to me, doesn't hold up because...you're the best thing that's happened to me. And I should have known that—"
"Kayla, I'm not asking you to be perfect," I said, putting a hand on her cheek, "You shouldn't be. You can't be under that kind of pressure. No one can."
"What about you?
I laughed. "You really think I'm perfect?"
"You don't give many reasons to think otherwise."
"What about how I was acting the other day after I snooped through your phone. That's one strike against me right there. Two for the phone."
She looked like she wanted to argue but couldn't think of anything. "Well..." She put her face in her hand. I quickly took the hand away and she had to look at me again. "If you wanted to break up with me, you could."
"What?"
"If you think we need some time apart or something. I mean, you've just gone through seeing a guy shoot himself and here I've been, being a complete bitch to you about Tara and wanting to be with her when we...and then with Jeff and everything and that was the whole time in our relationship and you deserve better. I mean, you've never kept anything from me about your past relationships or anything."
"Because I didn't have any."
"But I know you'd tell me if you did." Tears were starting to form now. "Jack, I've been crying so much about all of this and I always hate it when I realize I'm just feeling sorry for myself and trying to find a way to not feel like a bad person. I don't think I'm a bad person but would a good girlfriend keep something like that from you? Lie to you right when we had our most intimate moment? Keep lying to you and...God damn it, I told you I would tell you about the texts when it became something. It was always 'something' and right now I hate myself so much I wish you would just shout at me and tell me you feel the same way."
"I'm not going to," I replied, the words rasping in my throat as my heart thudded with pain at her words, "I never would. You know me better than that."
"And you used to think I wasn't a liar. There goes that fantasy."
Her shouting at me the other day had been hard. Hating herself was tearing me up inside. "Well, I'm a liar, too."
She frowned through her wet eyes. "How?"
"Remember how I kept saying I was going to be okay after Coach Walburn's death? I wasn't. I was hurting. A lot. All I could think about was how he died and what it would be like to die and what would happen to everyone if I was gone. It was getting scary. And I couldn't stop thinking about it." She looked at me steadily. "But Fitzsimmons...Doctor Fitzsimmons, the psychologist I saw? He made me realize that it wasn't all that. Like, seeing him die wasn't the only thing that was messing me up up here." I tapped my head. "I was scared. Scared of losing you."
That really seemed to astonish her. "Losing me?"
"I'd just told you about kissing Tara and we hadn't spoken since. And Coach Walburn...he had nothing. No family left. Sure, I had my family, but...I don't know, I guess the thought of losing you was enough to make me think it may start happening to me too. I need you, Kayla. I need my family and friends, too, but I love you in a way people only talk about when they want to point out how sappy a love story is. 'True love' or something. I don't even know if that's what I need to call it, but that's how it feels. And when I saw how he was...all thin and alone...That scares me, Kayla. Being alone, everyone I love gone from my life. Gone. That nightmare I have where I'm in the water with that dark shape just out of sight? I just realize...I'm completely alone in that nightmare too. Even in other bad dreams, there's other people. Not in that one."
"And I don't want to lose you, Jack. I love you too and I want you to continue to be in my life because you make it better just by being in it."
I held her hands and looked into her eyes seriously. "Ditto," I said gravely.
She laughed brightly in spite of the tears still in her eyes. "What else did he say? The doctor?"
"That we need to communicate better. We always focus on the now but we haven't ever focused on the past, at least not significantly. He made me realize I don't even know what town you moved here from."
"Albricht," she replied.
"See? I had four months to find that out about you and I didn't."
"Where did you live before here?"
"I've lived here all my life."
She smacked her head. "Right, because of Joe and Brad being childhood friends...sorry."
"But you see what he meant? About having to talk to each other and be more open?"
"I thought we were."
"I thought so too. But you couldn't tell me about Jeff and I couldn't tell you about how Coach Walburn's death made me feel and...here we are." I spread my arms theatrically.
She imitated my gesture with a giggle. "So you want to keep going?"
"Of course! We got two more years of high school to get through and then...who knows?"
"Even after...everything?"
"What I remember is yesterday. You remember? When you tried your best to make me happy and upbeat? When you snuggled up to me...I didn't tell you but that meant a lot to me. And it helped. A lot. It made me feel safe and happy and I'm just sorry I wasn't able to tell you."
Her eyes were wide and shiny. "Really?"
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to me. "One of the things Fitzsimmons said was that we were at the point in our relationship where the whole 'ideal image' thing is going away and we have to see each other as people...or something. He used a lot of metaphors. Basically, nobody's perfect." She opened her mouth. "No, not even me. I'm a good guy, maybe, but not perfect. Seriously, can you honestly say I have no flaws?"
She chewed her lip for a minute before whispering, "No."
"You can say it louder, sweetcheeks."
She smirked a little. "No," she said in at normal volume.
"I'm not perfect, you're not perfect. That's fine. You're perfect for me."
She smiled and let out a long breath through her nose. "So...you wanna be perfectly imperfect together?"
"Yes," I said with a laugh, "Perfectly imperfect."
We laughed together and kissed in a warm way that acknowledged past wrongs and pain but would not be ruled by it. Kayla seemed to sense this too; when our lips parted, she said, "So how do we start communicating better?"
"Not sure," I replied, "Fitzsimmons didn't say."
"Well...how are you feeling about those thoughts you had? The ones you said scared you?"
I thought about it. "I don't know. I...I'm happy. Being here with you. Now. Thinking about how I felt before...It still scares me but not as much. I don't think I'll be thinking like that again. At least not exactly. Coach Walburn's death is still kinda ripping me up and I think it always will. Fitzsimmons said a lot of my pain was a combination of that and...our troubles. I don't know if I believe that completely; seeing Coach Walburn shoot himself is..." I took a shuddering breath. "I won't forget it. I know that."
"Do you want to?" she asked seriously.
Again, I had to think. "No," I replied, "First of all, I can't. Not unless I'm hypnotized or that have one of those Men in Black flashy forgetting things. And even if I could...I shouldn't. It would be disrespectful."
Her mouth twisted. "Yeah...I'm sorry you have to be alone on that."
"Well, I'm not alone," I replied, squeezing her a little, "Communication, remember? I mean, I'm not going to describe exactly how it looked when the bullet tore through—"
She hiccupped and gagged. "Thanks for that," she said dryly.
"I won't tell you that but I'll share with you how I feel and if it's bothering me and stuff like that, okay? And if something's bothering you, whether it's something in the past or something I say or do, or anyone else, you'll tell me, right?"
"Yes." Her response was not as strong as she thought it was. It was the same sort of response I had given to Fitzsimmons when he had suggested the same thing.
"It'll be tough but...we'll work on it together, okay?"
"Yes." That one was as strong as she thought it was, probably even more so.
We skated around a while longer, me still struggling like a kid first learning how to walk, but noticing it less because Kayla's arm was looped through mine and we leaned on each other with a warmth and comfort that my incompetent skating could not diminish. We didn't say much; we spoke only to greet others we skated close to or to comment on how, remarkably, I managed to skate in a straight line for almost ten seconds. It was a comfortable silence, the feeling of closeness saying more than platitudes of love and happiness could. I loved her, I was happy with her, but saying it would not have made it more powerful.
Is this becoming too romantically mawkish for you? Sorry. I'll try and work in a fart joke somewhere.
As the sun went down half an hour later, the rink became more and more deserted, until we were two of the seven people left on it. "Ready to go?" I asked.
"Yep," she replied, "I'm starving."
"You want to go home or get drive-through?"
"I don't know," she said, frowning slightly, "Let me think about it."
"Better hurry," I said while I steered us toward the exit, "Car has to go one place or the other."
She poked me in the butt. "The car has to warm up first, Bubble-Butt."
My head turned so fast that I almost made a pirouette on the ice. "Bubble-Butt?!" I choked out.
She giggled and aimed another poke at me that I clumsily spun away from. "That's what it is," she said reasonably, "You never noticed?"
"Strangely enough, I don't spend a lot of time staring at my ass in the mirror," I replied. We were lacing up our boots at this point and we got an odd look from the guy stationed in the kiosk where we turned in our skates. Maybe I shouldn't have said it so loud.
Kayla, seeing the look we got, smirked and said, just as loud as I had, "That's what you have me for." We were walking toward the car at this point and were giggling enough as it was; turning around and seeing the guy's expression probably would have been too much.
As Kayla had said, the car needed to be warmed up. Somehow, the cloth and leather of the seats seemed a hundred times colder than the ice we had skated on and the closed air did more to steam our breath than the actual air had done. "Crap, crap, crap, crap," I muttered as I shakily pulled out my keys and turned on the car. A blast of cold air hit us at once.
Kayla shrieked and her hand flew to the fan knob, turning it all the way to 'off'. "Holy c-c-crap," she gasped, teeth clacking together like scattered pebbles, "N-not cold enough f-f-for you?"
"Sorry," I replied, trying and failing to keep myself from shaking like I was in a paint mixer, "Forget it w-was on."
We rubbed our arms and chests but all that did was warm the areas our hands touched while leaving everything else as cold as before. I tried to pull her closer to me so we could share body heat but the barrier between the front seats dug into our sides. "Back seat?" she suggested shakily.
I could only nod, my tongue feeling as numb as my toes. We stiffly crawled between the front seats, feeling awkward in the bulk of our coats and gloves. Sure, we could have stepped out of the car and gone in through the rear doors, but...laziness, I guess. The trade-out was that our joints creaked with cold and we thumped and groaned in the narrow space until we were able to relax, somewhat comfortably, in the back seat.
We were in each other's arms at once, clutching each other as the heat from our joined bodies gradually reduced our shivering. It was still cold but at least we could talk normally, without having to worry about chattering teeth. "You made up your mind yet?" I asked Kayla.
"About what?"
"Going home for dinner or going out?"
"Not sure," she replied, "Been too cold to think."
"My ass," I replied, nipping her on the nose, "You're warm now."
"Sort of."
I squeezed her tighter. "Does that help?"
"Yeah...but I had something else in mind." Her eyes and the smile made it very clear what she was thinking about.
"Oh? You think the air conditioning has heated up?" I asked innocently, as if I had missed the blatantness of her suggestion. I leaned between the front seats, reaching for the knob.
She seized me by the seat of my pants and pulled me back. "No," she replied with a small roll of her eyes. She leaned against me, lips parted teasingly. "You know what I'm thinking about."
"Snuggling more?" I squeezed her tighter.
"Jack, if you really want to be this dim..."
I leaned in and kissed her deeply. "Are you sure, sweetie?" I asked.
She nodded. "I don't want it just to have sex. I want it so I know things are okay between us."
I smiled and stroked her hair. "We don't have to have sex to know that."
"I know. But it helps."
I laughed. "Yes it does."
We kissed deeply, our coats crinkling together as our bodies pressed together. My hands continued to run through her hair, fiddling with the bow but not taking it out. Odd that I'd become so used to seeing it that I no longer noticed it. If she took it out, then I'd see that something was off.
Her hands were chilly against my skin as she lowered them into my shirt, sliding her fingers across my chest and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Her leg slowly slid across mine until she was straddling my lap, our kisses continuing in the vein of slow and sweet, rather than hot and heavy. Our tongues probed and slid across each other but did not wrestle as they might have done; this was sensuous and, frankly, was turning me on even more than if we went straight at it. The feeling of her chilly hands against my skin was oddly arousing and I shifted in my seat, trying to rest my cock somewhere comfortable in the groove between her legs.
She noticed and smiled sweetly. "Warming up?" she asked.
"Yes," I replied, both to the obvious question and the one underneath.
She kissed me lightly. "Probably shouldn't take off too much," she said thoughtfully, "Just in case."
"Well, then why don't we just go to your place where we can do whatever?"
"Because," she said in a 'duh' voice, "It's not warmed up yet and I don't think you want to put this—" She gave my cock a small squeeze, "—on hold for longer than you have to." She smirked.
I glanced at the fogged-up windows. "Well," I mused, "No one can see in so...Why the hell not?"
She laughed. "If that isn't the sexiest thing I've ever heard," she giggled leaning in to kiss me again.
Truth be told, it was starting to get warm in the car, mainly because of the stiffness between my legs and the heat generated between our bodies. It was so warm that I even started to shrug out of my coat, actually welcoming the chilly air against my skin. Kayla unzipped her coat and took it off as well, never losing the connection with my lips. Her fingers slid into my hair, lightly massaging the skin as our kiss deepened and our breathing became shallower.
Her hands left my shirt and slowly traveled down my torso to my pants. By this point, she was an expert at undoing my pants without looking and within half a minute she was lifting my butt up so she could tug down the waistband of my pants and boxers, leaving my stiff cock free to feel the chill of the open air. Actually, it wasn't that chilly; too much blood was pumping through it for me to notice.
Kayla had to pull away from my lips as she struggled with her own pants, numb fingers working to undo the tight clasp of her jeans. "Damn it," she muttered as her fingers slipped off the button for a third time.
I took her fingers and brought them slowly to my mouth. "Jack, what...ohhhh..." I slid her index finger into my mouth and slowly drew it out, making her eyes flutter shut and a satisfied grin spread across her face. Her finger was like a small popsicle and I slid my tongue around and around it to warm it up. Once I had lowered the temperature just a little, I opened my mouth wide and let out a deep, warm breath across all her fingers. "Mmmmm," she sighed, "Nice."
By the time I had finished with the other hand, her fingers were wiggling and flexing more loosely and she had no problem undoing her pants. Hooking her fingers into the waistband, she slid down her pants and panties, shivering as they dropped below her knees. "Chilly?" I asked, noting the wetness of her lips.
"Yeah," she said, shivering some more, "Thanks for making me so wet."
"I'm just a big ole meanie," I teased as I drew her to me, her pussy leaving a trail of cold wetness across my leg.
Our lips met again as she shifted her hips up against my stomach. I gripped my cock and held it straight while she lowered her pussy onto it, slowly sliding me inside her. I gasped louder than I meant to. It wasn't just the tightness that surprised me (we'd last had sex a few days ago so that was understandable); it was the sudden warmth that not only enveloped my member but spread throughout my body. Even my fingertips seemed to jump a few degrees.
Kayla's body shuddered as I bottomed out in her, pressing her face into my neck until her body settled. "You okay?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said softly, "Just getting used to it again."
"Three whole days without sex," I sighed and shook my head, "How did we ever survive?"
"Oh, shut up," she giggled, covering my mouth with hers again.
My hands found her rear soft and cold so I squeezed it tight to get the blood flowing. She put her hands on my shoulders and slowly started to raise and lower herself on my shaft, moaning a little each time she slid back down onto me. The walls of her pussy were clamped tightly around my cock, each groove pressing hard against the head as it slid in and out of her, warmth and pleasure making my eyes roll up.
"Oh yeah..." she whispered as she lay her head on my shoulder, rocking her hips back and forth, squeezing my cock one way and then the other in a relentless assault of sensual pleasure. My mouth fell open as the soft velvety walls stroked the underside of my cock head, electric warmth that took me out of my body and had me soaring on wings of joy.
Her arms wrapped around my head as I felt her thighs tighten, bouncing her harder on me while her breasts pressed into my chest. One of my hands left her rear and gently squeezed her breast, the soft flesh like a sponge as my fingers dug in lightly and moved it around. She bit her lip and smiled. My thumb traced the curve of her chest until I heard her take a sharp breath. Her nipple. I ran my thumb back and forth along the spot, making her squirm and gasp, which was doing wonderful things for our sex.
My lips traced down her jaw to her neck, kissing and lightly sucking on it as I started to rock my hips with her. The head of my cock kept hitting something every time I thrust into her, making her squeal, so I thrust up harder against it. Her neck and face started turning red, sweat appearing on her forehead in spite of the coldness. "Feel good?" I asked softly.
"Oh, yes," she whispered, her eyes closed lightly and her chin resting on top of my head, "Can we explore the option of making our own small house between our parents'?"
I laughed and pressed my elbows back against the seat, lifting my torso up and causing Kayla to moan loudly. "We'll see," I replied, pressing myself up again.
"Oh, fuck!" she cried, crushing my shoulders with her fingers as her hips pistoned back and forth, the curve of my groin teasing her clit every time she slid forward. Our lips met again, hungrily, battling for stability as our orgasms neared.
Her thighs pressed hard against my legs, forcing me to lean back so my groin could stick out. This drove me deeper into her and also meant that her rear brushed against my balls occasionally, rolling them around and giving me no relief. They churned and twitched and finally I moaned, "I'm gonna cum."
She just nodded, her jaw clamped shut as she rocked even harder, her forehead pressed hard against mine. I lightly nipped her jaw line, making her gasp loudly. She leaned back, letting me snake a hand down to our groins so I could rub her clit. My thumb pressed against the nub and almost at once her eyes shot open and she all but screamed, "You son of a...Oh my Goooooooood...Fuck..."
Warm juices exploded inside her, enveloping my cock and tightening around it until it was almost painful. Almost. It was enough, however, to force me up when last time inside of her with a loud grunt. I emptied myself into her, gasping and shuddering with each spasm. I gripped her waist so tightly that I worried I might bruise it. She didn't seem to notice, lost in her orgasm as she was.
We finally let out simultaneous explosions of breath, me collapsing against the backseat and her on top of me. Our lips met gently a few times but we were mostly catching our breaths, our groins hot and sore. I didn't even notice the chill anymore. For all I knew, it might be summer now and the windows were just fogged up because of our passion.
Kayla slowly slid me out of her, the cold suddenly returning as it touched the wetness she left on my shaft. "Whew," she sighed, "Make-up sex?"
I shook my head. "Amazing sex, like it always is."
"Awwww." She kissed me on the cheek, then dug some tissues out of her coat and wiped herself clean.
"Were you expecting this to happen?" I asked as she caught the leakage down her legs.
"You never know when you're going to get an attack of the sniffles," she replied reasonably. She pulled up her pants, balled up the tissues, then lowered the window a little to drop them out.
"Thanks for littering," I commented dryly as I pulled up my pants and leaned forward to turn on the heat so the windows could clear up.
She swatted me on the butt. "Either that or carry around some cum-stained tissues in your car and wouldn't that be an interesting conversation-starter." I gave her a look and she leaned up to kiss me demurely.
The fog was clearing up from the windshield as we put our coats back on and climbed back into the front seats, no less awkwardly than when we had climbed in the back. The warmth was almost uncomfortable now, after our love-making, and I turned it down a notch, so it was a calm, steady stream of warmth rather than a blast of dragon's breath. "Have you made up your mind now?" I asked.
She blew a raspberry. "You're not going to let that go, are you?"
"Nope."
She sighed into a giggle. "Eat out. I want something bad for me."
"How bad?"
"Something that's gonna make me punish the toilet later on."
I laughed until my sides ached. "Can do," I replied in between hiccups, "Burgers or Mexican."
There was a tap on the window of my door and turned to see Tara standing outside, hopping from foot to foot and grinning at us. I blinked in surprise and lowered the window. "Hey guys!" she said cheerfully, blowing out her breaths every few seconds.
"Hey!" Kayla replied in the same tone.
"You following us?" I asked, noting the frozen sweat on her forehead.
"Oh, please. If I were following you, I would have got here ages ago," she laughed breathlessly, "Cars got nothing on me."
"Uh huh," I replied.
"Seriously. I was running on the road back there and saw the rink and figured I'd come say hi, if you were still here." She frowned slightly and I saw her sniff slightly. She said nothing but she gave me a knowing smile.
"We were about to go get something disgusting and fattening for dinner," Kayla told her, "Wanna come?"
Tara stared at the road, seeming to look past it all the way back home. It wasn't a short distance. "Sounds great," she said a few moments later, climbing into the backseat.
I looked at her in the rearview mirror. "Gonna ruin all that hard work, huh?"
Tara lifted her shirt slightly, exposing her taut stomach. She patted it, saying, "Pack me with as much as you want. Ain't gonna affect this."
"You found your match, Kayla," I said as I pulled out of the parking lot, "Tara loves eating as much as you."
"I can still eat faster," Kayla said confidently.
"Love you, Kayla, but you're out of your league," Tara replied with a sweet smile.
"Wanna bet?"
"Sure."
I sighed and rubbed my forehead, trying to vanish into a silence of the mind while the girls chattered away next to me at light speed.
We ended up going to Chipotle, where I munched slowly on my burrito while the girls had a speed-eating contest. Bits of meat, cheese, and lettuce tumbled like hail from their food but their eyes stayed locked on each other, jaws moving like machines as they bit, chewed, swallowed, repeated. Kayla was right; there was a toilet, probably two, that were going to get punished that night.
They had to slurp the fallen bits from the foil wrappings and it was only through a piece of corn that got stuck in Tara's throat that had her coughing and hacking for a few seconds that Kayla was able to finish first. She balled up her foil, slammed it on the table, and then lifted her arms in victory.
"I'll get you next time," Tara said in a wheezy voice, still coughing from time to time.
Kayla laughed. "Now said it again but all gravely and deep."
"I'm not a cartoon."
"You both ate like one," I mused, enjoying my burrito. They glared at me. "No dirty looks. I paid."
"Whatever," Tara said, rolling her eyes. She pulled out her phone and sighed. "Two more days." Her tone was half sad, half resigned.
Kayla was all sad. "I wish you could stay longer," she said, pouting.
"Few more months and you'll have all of me you want," Tara said, forcing a smile.
"Jack, don't you have a magic watch or something that can speed up time?" Kayla asked me.
"Sure do. I'm working on it right now. It should be done by summer."
"But then...Smartass." Kayla swatted me on the arm. I continued to munch on my food.
"But seriously, this visit has been...interesting." I knew she wanted to say 'great' but probably felt, what with the way things had been this week, it may not have been the appropriate word.
Kayla seemed to think the same. "I thought it was awesome," she said enthusiastically, "Aside from some...weirdness."
"Yeah...I mean, I love you guys. You're amazing! I just...wish there hadn't been so much...you know."
"Weirdness?" I asked. She nodded. "Well, at the very least, it was memorable."
She laughed hollowly. "Memorable means fun and laughing and craziness. 'Crazy' is probably as close as I can get, and not the good kind."
"We had that," I replied, "Come on, Tara. Lighten up."
She huffed and rested her elbows on the table, face in her hands. "Just...now I gotta go back home to boring school with boring people and guys trying to sneak a peek down my shirt."
"Wear a higher neckline," I suggested.
The girls laughed. "With those things?" Kayla asked, pointing at Tara's breasts, "She'd have to wear nothing but turtlenecks."
I ignored the comment. "But there's gotta be good guys," I argued, "Sure, you've had some strike-outs—"
"Nothing but," she muttered darkly.
"—but they can't all be duds."
"Ohhhhh, yes they can," she drawled, smacking her lips derisively.
"Well, at least you can look forward to a fresh batch when you move out here," Kayla said warmly.
"I guess...I'm sure Joe will be ecstatic."
"Joe's in a relationship," I reminded her, "No more of his 'subtle' hints about hooking up."
Tara blinked. "That was supposed to be subtle." We all shared a laugh at that, Tara finally starting to slide out of her funk. "I don't know...I think I'm gonna take a break from guys for a while."
I grimaced. "That's not because of me, is it?"
Tara favored me with a warm smile. "No, Jack. I'm tougher than that. I think I'm just ready to focus on me for a bit. Feel good about me. Especially after this whole vacation."
"None of it was your fault," Kayla insisted.
"It's not a 'fault' thing," I said, putting my hand on top of Tara's, "It's just messed-up stuff. Carson, you and me, the three of us..." I said all this in a low voice. No one would have understood it without context but it still felt like a whispering thing. "Let's not spend the last couple days we have blaming each other for stuff."
"Absolutely," Kayla said seriously, reaching for Tara's other hand, "Everything worked out, didn't it?"
She shrugged. "I guess, but I still can't stop thinking about asking Jack to..." She didn't need to finish the sentence.
"That was three days ago," I said, smiling, "Done and forgotten."
Wrong thing to say. Tara looked hurt and Kayla glared at me. "What I think he means to say," Kayla said, swooping in to save me from my stupid mouth, "is that it's not bothering us. And if it bothers you, we're sorry and we'll help you if we can."
Tara looked at me. "You can help. Fix that magic watch of yours soon so we can stop time and just chill out forever and mess with people."
"What fun would it be to mess with people if they're frozen forever?"
"Well, not forever. We could start time whenever and watch what happens."
"This watch can do all that. Gee, what a machine." I finished the last of my burrito. "Let me know when you get a nice supply of fairy crap to make it work. I'll talk to my guy about unicorn horns."
They snorted with laughter. "I think I'm gonna miss you being a smartass most," Tara said almost wistfully, "You should write a book with your funny little quips."
"Then they wouldn't be funny. They'd be passé.
"Well, then a book on how to make smartass remarks."
"Then I'd give away all the fun."
Kayla sighed and patted me on the head condescendingly. "Take it easy, baby. Don't want to run out of juice."
"I'm just freakin' peachy," I replied, taking a big swig of my root beer.
Tara blinked and said, "I think I lost track of how we got to this point in the conversation."
"So did I," I replied, "Where do we go from here?"
"Have you heard from Craig yet?" Kayla asked me.
"Nope. No text from him or Becca." It was worrying more than I wanted to admit. I didn't think Craig had done anything to himself, or would, but not knowing was just making it worse.
"Have you tried Carson?" Tara asked, looking like she was swallowing a lemon just saying the name.
You go, girl. "I hadn't thought of that," I said as I pulled out my phone, "Good idea." I tapped out a message.
Me: Hey Carson, I haven't heard from Craig in a while. He doing okay?
"You should hear from him, oh...about three days from now," Tara said tartly as I slid my phone back into my pocket.
"Was he that bad?" Kayla asked, trying not to sound too amused. Having heard what Jeff was like, her distaste for Carson was making a lot more sense.
"I had to send three texts for every one of his, just to get a response," Tara replied, "Seriously, it was like pulling teeth or something. I think the shortest time between texts was half an hour. Cripes!"
To be fair, Tara could be pretty pushy when she wanted something. Probably not the best idea to bring that up. "No plans to keep up a friendship with him, then?"
"Nope," she replied moodily, "And I'm not just saying that to be bitchy. He really seemed like he didn't want to talk to me anymore."
"You missing it?" Kayla asked.
"Not especially."
"Hey, here's an idea," I cut in, "How about we talk about stuff that makes us happy? We could use more smiles, right?"
They agreed and we spent the rest of our time laughing and smiling and talking about happy times, both fond memories and hopes for the future. Tara was planning on going into the medical field and she and Kayla both expressed their enthusiasm about finding an internship before going to college; Tara with a hospital and Kayla with a vet. I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted to do yet but I was happy with my job. They both teased me, saying that they were going to be high-paid medical professionals while I was stuck recommending video games to pimply basement-dwellers. I countered by saying, as it stood right now, I was the only one making steady bank.
None of us was looking forward to going back to school but, hopefully, it would prove to be a far mellower half of the year than the previous one. Kayla even turned to me at one point and said, "Maybe these next few months will be free of psychotic ex-friends, guns in lockers, and fights outside the school, hmm?"
I held up two fingers. "Scouts' Honor." It wasn't a promise I could keep out of my own control but, damn it, I was going to try. The Troubles had been enough to drive me down hard and even though I had clawed my way back up to the surface, the scars still ran deep. It was enough for me to reach out and take Kayla's hand, squeezing it tight.
It reassured me. I had her there to help me, to steady me, to stand by me when stuff got tough. And I'd be there for her, too. Together. I don't know if we'd face stuff like we had over the past couple of months; in all likelihood, it would probably be tougher (like the pipe bomb incident we will get to). But I had her now and I'd be damned if I let our relationship get threatened the same way again.
It wasn't until we drove home and Tara and I walked into the house to find Alan and Amanda watching TV a safe distance apart that I realized I hadn't thought about what had happened between my parents and the twins while we were out. It wasn't prudent to ask now with Tara around. I pushed it out of my mind.
I wasn't going to find out what happened, and the consequences, for another couple of weeks.
The thing I hate most about airplanes is the smell. Or, at least, the smell as tinted by the depressurization. You know, that hollow smell where the fabric seems to be flavored with something metallic, giving you a sinus headache before you've even taken off. It's something I never got used to.
I would, of course, not be getting on the plane with Tara but the hollow, stale smell seemed to seep from the planes into the airport, making an already sad occasion even more depressing. It was two days later and we were waiting (my family, Tara, and Kayla) at the foyer in front of the baggage claim, trying to drag out the goodbye as long as possible. The last two days had gone by in a flash, nowhere near enough time to spend just relaxing and having fun. I'd had to work the previous day and I had spent the entire time watching the clock, trying to calculate the amount of time we'd be able to spend with Tara before she had to leave. Whenever I came up with a number, it was never enough time.
We'd already checked in her suitcases and we were now getting in our last hugs before she went through security. She hugged my parents first, squeezing them both tight. "I'll tell my parents you say hi," she promised, her voice sad, "We might be coming out around Easter or something to look at houses."
"Looking forward to it," mom said, kissing her on the forehead, "Tell my sister I'm still prettier than she is."
"Hoo, boy," dad sighed, "The two of you living within driving distance of each other. As if my hair wasn't gray enough already."
"You look great, Uncle Mike," Tara laughed before turning to Alan and hugging him, "Bye Alan."
"Bye Tara," he responded sullenly. I'd expected him to be delighted with Tara leaving, since he'd get all the time with Amanda that he wanted, but...well, go Alan. Look at you being all mature and prioritized.
Amanda slid into Tara's arms next. "Makeup party when we hang out next?" she said.
"Absolutely!" Tara said cheerily, "Mary Kay?"
"You know it."
Kayla and Tara hugged for so long that I thought they would never break apart. I could hear faint murmuring from them and figured they were probably whispering their parting conversation to each other. I could only imagine what they were saying to each other. They broke apart, tears in both of their eyes, but smiles on their faces. "Watch after him," Tara said, giving me a smirk that was trying to be nonchalant but mixed in more than a little sadness, "Make sure he doesn't get out of line."
Kayla laughed. "No way. I'll whoop his butt."
"Don't do me any favors," I muttered.
Tara, trying to keep her face calm, slammed into me as our arms wrapped around each other, squeezing as if our lives depended on it. I was trying to hold myself together but the lump in my throat was fighting its way upwards and I had to swallow hard to keep it down. Her soft hair pressed hair against my skin, caught between our cheeks as we held each other. Was it only a little more than a week that she'd been here? It seemed like so much longer...and yet not long enough.
I don't know how long we held each other. It was long and short, just like her visit. Every second we held each other was one second closer to the moment when we would have to break apart and she'd walk away, flying back to her home state where she'd be the occasional text and, if we were lucky, Skype partner. Sure, it had been an...interesting visit, as Tara had said, but I wouldn't have traded it for anything. I mean, because of everything, Kayla and I were on the road to a deeper, more fulfilling connection. I couldn't say where that might lead but if it was somewhere good, we had Tara to thank for that.
The circumstances leading up to it, though, might be best left as a memory.
We were still squeezing each other when Tara turned her head slightly and whispered in my ear, "Did you mean it? When you said you loved me as more than a cousin?"
I thought about it. I could see arguments for giving either of the only two answers I could give, but the questions deserved thought. Thought enough to make the answer meaningful, rather than reactionary. I thought about her, about all that had happened, her actions and reactions, my feelings, the problems and consequences and everything that had happened while she was here. Then I looked into my heart, took a deep breath, and let myself think about her. Just her, nothing else. And that gave me my answer.
"Yes," I whispered back.
She seemed to shiver for a second before I felt the sides of her mouth press against my skin as she smiled. "Thank you," she whispered, her lips brushing my cheek as we pulled apart.
"Any longer and you'd both be going onto the plane," my dad observed with amusement.
Tara laughed. "Wish I could take you all with me. But I'll see you guys soon! Then you won't be able to get rid of me!"
"Oh, Lord," Amanda sighed sarcastically, "What ever will we do?"
Tara blew us a big kiss as she walked backwards toward the security checkpoint. "I love you all! Thank you so much for having me!"
"We love you too!" we called back in a chorus.
Kayla slid in next to me and I wrapped my arm around her as we watched Tara slowly meld into the stream of people. Then she was gone. Not for long, I kept telling myself, She'll be back soon. Not soon enough, though. I could only hope, once again, that this last half of the school year would be nice and uneventful so we could zip through it quickly and get to summer.
So, basically, like every Spring Semester.
Kayla leaned her head against my shoulder, sighing. "I'm gonna miss her," she said quietly.
"Me too," I replied. Whatever may have happened while she was here, she was still my cousin and I loved her. As more than that.
There would be other Troubles throughout the years, I was sure, but this was the end of that long string that had plagued me since Kayla and I first made love: Jessica, Brad, the kiss with Tara...All of it leading up to a deeper connection with the girl I loved. I wasn't so arrogant as to think this was the end, nor that Kayla and I wouldn't face personal difficulties. We'd disagree, argue, fight, and, if we got married (please please please please please), I might learn what it was like to sleep on the couch for a night. But I was going to stick by her and we'd get through it together. Because we loved each other and what we shared in our hearts was worth all the Troubles that might come along. Life was too short and our love was too...wonderful to let it get bogged down in petty disagreements and arguments. We'd have those occasionally. Our relationship would be (fingers-crossed) forever.
I kissed the top of her head. She got the message and hummed happily. She knew what I meant.
Sorry you didn't get your fart joke. You'll have to find one on your own.