Chapter Twelve: Queen of My Song
I was in the hospital for two days. In addition to Reagan, Aaron also visited, although he remained distant.
On the second day, several bouquets of flowers were delivered to my room by a pimply boy in wrinkled khaki pants. Aaron sent a single red rose. Dr. Lane sent a beautiful fern. Reagan and Grant had a candy basket delivered. The last to be brought to my room were large pink flowers that didn't include a signature card. I didn't need a card to know where they came from.
In the end, I simply told everyone that I had blacked out behind the wheel. The doctors and powers-that-be determined, after several more tests including a sleep study, that I had suffered from an anxiety attack and prescribed a small does of Citalopram to be taken once daily. I filled the prescription, but I never took the pill.
The day after I was released, I walked to Dr. Lane’s office. It was a sunny afternoon and the 68-degree air was filled with happy anticipation of a gorgeous summer to come.
“Foster, it’s so good to see you on your feet. Please, sit.”
I giggled at his unintentional joke as he sat down across from me. He didn’t respond. I wondered if he sometimes threw things out there like that on purpose.
As I began to tell Dr. Lane exactly what I had told Reagan and the doctors, he crossed his legs and characteristically began to bounce his sneaker in the air.
"You seem very calm about the whole situation," he said.
"I suppose I am," I said. "I can't explain it. Call it my moment of clarity."
"Anxiety attacks are very real. I see more cases every day."
"I thought you weren't supposed to talk about your other patients," I joked.
Dr. Lane smiled. "I didn't mention any by name. I thought it would be good for you to hear that you aren't alone in this."
"Not alone,” I muttered. “No, I’m not alone. And I appreciate that. But I feel good. Better than ever, actually.”
Dr. Lane paused, but never took his eyes off of my face. Finally, "Oftentimes moments of clarity occur when a person sees the truth in something. His or her vision clears and they suddenly see the nature of their problem."
"An epiphany."
"Yes," he continued, nodding. "That's another way to put it. So what is the truth that you have found, Foster?"
"I don't really think I've found the truth so much as I have found an answer."
"Where there wasn't one before?"
"Yes."
"Where do these answers take you?"
I smiled. "I guess we’ll see."
____________
As I shook his hand to leave, I knew that Dr. Lane saw through my revelation. At one point he even began hinting about suicide prevention.
"No, no,” I had said. "You don’t need to worry about that. After surviving that car accident, I’m ready to get back to really living my life.”
Besides, I thought, I have Reagan's eyes on me 24-7.
Reagan offered to walk with me to classes, although I knew her class schedule didn't always sync with mine.
"I'll just sit and read," she said. "I don't mind."
Reagan wasn't just my personal nanny—and I was never convinced that Dr. Lane hadn’t put her up to it—but I would catch her looking at me while we were studying or eating, a question mark etched in her forehead.
"Do I have something in my teeth?" I would ask, grinning widely. She would giggle, but it was reserved.
A few days later, as the bruises on her leg were turning a dark purple, Reagan and I had a visitor to our dorm room.
“Vicki!” Reagan said as she opened the door. “Where have you been? Is Grant with you?”
I met Vicki’s gaze as soon as she entered the room. I had been sitting on my bed, pretending to read my Music History textbook, but popped up as she stepped inside.
“No,” she said. “He’s at work. I just wanted to see if Foster wanted to go to lunch.”
“Oh,” Reagan said, looking from me to Vicki. “Well. Okay.”
“Vicki was kind enough to visit me in the hospital,” I said, picking up my purse. “She promised to take me to lunch when I got out.”
“Oh.” Vicki and I had only spoken a few sentences to each other in front of Reagan all year. I saw Reagan trying to piece it together as we stood there. “Well. That’s nice. But how did you know Foster was …”
I grabbed my purse and kissed Reagan on the cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”
As the door closed behind us, I turned to Vicki. “Is she coming?”
“Yes,” Vicki said.
We walked down the stairs and out of the dorm, hopping into her old Monte Carlo parked illegally along the curb.
____________
As we walked into the Blue Door Diner, I was hit with the smell of decade-old grease. Although I had never eaten there, I had heard Grant say that they had the best cheeseburgers in town. They even toasted the buns.
We moved to the back of the rectangle room. A tall female stood up from the last booth. She was casual but well dressed with blonde highlights running through her brunette hair. Her pressed plaid shirt was tucked into a pair of skin-tight blue jeans.
“Foster,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Tatum.”
As I shook her hand, Vicki sat down in the booth. Tatum sat next to her and I slid in across from them.
The waitress approached and leaned over Tatum to poke Vicki in the shoulder. “Hello there, stranger. How are you liking your new job?”
“It’s good,” she said, helping her former co-worker place plastic cups of soda around the table. “And I don’t slip on the floors there.”
The waitress let out a loud laugh before she moved back to the counter, leaving us to sit, waiting for the first move to be made.
“You don’t work here anymore?” I asked Vicki. She shook her head. When she offered nothing else, I turned to Tatum.
“Well. I’m here. But it would have been nice if you would have pre-set a date and time. It was awkward suddenly leaving like that with my roommate there.”
“We’re here now,” Tatum said, crossing her hands on the table.
“Well, no shit,” I said, annoyed by her sarcastic nature. I had heard it on the phone when I had first called her from the hospital.
Two can play that game, I thought.
Wasting no more time, Tatum began. “I saw you that night. In the ravine. I saw you stand up from behind those rocks …”
“Wait, wait,” I interrupted, shocked by the immediate start. “You saw me.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“I saw you, yes.”
“Oh my God. You’re … her. You’re the girl with the pink boots.”
I looked over at Vicki and she nodded.
Tatum gave me a moment to let this sink in. Then she continued.
“I was still in the bushes when you stood up. I could see you from between the twigs. I had just … come to.” She took a breath and the small glimpse of weakness that flashed was gone as quickly as it had approached.
“You just stood there staring at my other boot out on the grass. I wasn’t sure what to do. Then, after a few minutes you walked away. I followed you back to your dorm.”
“I pissed myself,” I said.
“Okay. Well I didn’t know that.”
“Why were you following me?”
Vicki shifted in her seat but held my gaze.
“I thought,” Tatum began, “after I saw the look on your face, that you were … interested in what you saw.”
“What?” I blurted, then lowered my voice when the waitress looked our way. “Are you crazy? I thought someone—I thought you—had gotten raped and killed. If that’s the kind of thing that turns a person on …”
“It turns Jacob McGammon on,” Tatum interrupted.
“So, what,” I said, “you were having some kind of rough outdoor liaison with him and it got out of hand?”
“That wasn’t the first time. It had been hap
pening for almost a year.”
“So you were dating?”
Tatum’s lip curled. “No. Not quite.”
I leaned back. “I don’t understand.”
Tatum leaned back as well. “Jacob McGammon is the kind of man who gets under your skin. He makes you feel attractive, desirable, even brings out your strengths. Then one day you realize that he’s been the one in control from the beginning. By that point there is no getting away from him.”
“Did you want to?” I asked, understanding beginning to set in.
“Well, that’s the thing,” she continued. “Yes. And no. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t decide when you leave. When he finds someone else, someone he wants to … to mold … then you fall away.”
“And you think that someone is me.”
Although I felt anger, it was mixed with pity. There was a tall, beautiful young woman in front of me. She looked strong and confident but, in fact, she had been trapped and, in her mind, I was the way out.
Without hesitation, Tatum responded. “Yes. Although he seems to be going to a bigger extreme this time to get your attention …”
“You mean the car wreck.”
Tatum nodded. “Vicki told me that he ran you off the road. Is that true?”
“Yes. So if this is some kind of game to get me into his bed, his romantic side seem to be a big skewed.”
Tatum ran her hand over her lips and stared past me. Her eyes jerked slightly, deep in thought. I turned my attention to Vicki.
“So how does this involve you? Are you part of the club, too?” I asked, moving my fingers in the air to emphasize “the club.”
Vicki’s cheeks immediately flushed. “No. I’ve never had sex.”
“Well, okay. But how did you get involved in all of this?”
Vicki glanced at Tatum who was still staring ahead, thinking.
“My Dad worked for Tatum’s Dad’s company. We went to the same high school.” She paused. “We really didn’t talk much then. We were in two different friend groups, I guess.”
“I was a bitch to her,” Tatum interjected, her attention back on us. “We called her Picky Vicki.”
“They saw me picking my nose on the bus once. I put it in a tissue. But they didn’t see that part.”
Tatum continued. “Last summer I walked into this diner and she was working behind the counter. I was a total mess. Jacob and I had just gotten into an argument and I had been drinking. I went straight for the bathroom. A few minutes later there was a knock and Vicki just walked right in.”
“She was sitting on the floor, crying. I sat down with her. After a while she started talking to me and telling me everything …”
“Drunk,” Tatum reminded me.
“… and we’ve been friends since then.”
Looking at the two opposites across the table, I felt my heart grow. I immediately thought of Reagan.
“So you two worked together to force Jacob on me,” I said, pushing the warmness away. “You told Vicki to leave that boot in my room to see how I would react. Did you know Jacob was going to start teaching in the music department in August?”
Tatum nodded and I continued. “You figured since I saw him that night in the ravine that I’d think it was him who put the boot there? Maybe that would spark something between us? You know, since I was so turned on by what I saw. Is that about right?”
“I had to do something,” Tatum said.
“Yeah, well,” I said, taking a defiant sip from my soda. “It didn’t work. He knows that I know all about him. It’s why he tried to scare me the night of the wreck. It’s why he took it out on Reagan at the bar.”
For the first time, Tatum’s reaction was not composed. “What?”
Even Vicki seemed to wake up.
“My boyfriend, Aaron—ex-boyfriend—whatever he is—thought it would be funny to tell Jacob that I saw him that night in the ravine. I guess Aaron thought I had overreacted and that Jacob would find it entertaining. Maybe he was just trying to see Jacob’s reaction. I don’t know.”
Tatum was now leaning forward. “How did he react?”
“He laughed,” I said. “Aaron said he laughed and laughed like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. But within the hour, there he was, trying to kill me or scare me or whatever he was doing in his car.”
“Reagan,” Vicki said, learning forward as well. Her breasts rested on the tabletop. “What did you say about Reagan?”
“Right after he ran me off the road that bastard took off and called another meeting with some students he is working with, a group he is traveling with to Sweden this summer. They met at The Dirty Dog. I mean, a bar for God’s sake. Reagan saw him making out and choking some girl in a pink dress in the back hallway. Then he came to the table and put the moves on her.”
“Did he leave a mark?” Tatum’s eyes didn’t leave mine.
“A mark?”
“A mark. A bruise. A scratch. Anything.”
“As a matter of fact, he did. He squeezed her leg so hard it left bruises. I almost screamed when I saw them.”
Although Tatum’s face didn’t change, Vicki put her hand over her mouth.
“It’s not you,” Tatum said. “You’re not next.”
I pursed my lips. After a few seconds I was able to speak. “Is it Reagan?”
“He leaves a mark. It’s his first big move.” Tatum pulled down the shoulder of her shirt to reveal a small scar on her collarbone. “Then, after that …”
“No,” I said. “No. No. That is not going to happen.” I clutched my hands together to keep them from shaking. “I refuse to let him …”
“Where is Reagan now?” Vicki asked.
“She was in our room when we left, Vicki. You saw her.”
“Yeah, but was she going to go anywhere?”
“I ... I don’t know.” My heart rate was accelerating.
“Call her. Use the payphone in the back. Vicki will come with you.”
As we slid out the booth, Tatum stood and motioned for the waitress.
“I’m sure she’s okay,” Vicki said as she handed me quarters for the phone. “Just tell her that you got a bad feeling and wanted to check on her.”
“Come on,” I said as the phone rang on the other end. “She’ll read through me immediately. I’ll just ask her …”
“Hello?”
I let out a sigh so long and deep at the sound of her voice that Reagan immediately started talking, “Listen, you perv. If all you’re gonna do is breathe into the phone why don’t you …”
“Rea Rea, it’s me,” I said.
“Oh.” She laughed. “Sorry. Wait. Are you okay? Are you still with Vicki?”
“I am. I just wanted to … I needed to check …” I looked at Vicki. She bugged her eyes at me. “I had a bad feeling and I wanted to check on you.” Vicki smiled as I shook my head in defeat.
“Well that’s weird. But okay. Yes, I’m fine. Just watching some T.V. We really should get better bunny ears on this thing.”
“Do me a favor,” I said. “Stay there until I get back. Then we’ll do something together. I’m feeling the need for a girls night.”
“Oh good,” she said. I could almost see her hopping in place. My love for her grew. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better. When will you be back?”
“Soon. Just let me finish up here.”
“By the way, what did Vicki want? I mean, it’s not like you two are bosom buddies or anything …”
“Gotta go, Rea,” I said, glancing at Vicki. “I’ll be back soon.”
When I hung up, Vicki patted my shoulder.
As we sat back down in the booth, the waitress approached and sat down a big plate of French fries.
“Perfect timing. Hot and crunchy. Your burgers will be out soon.”
“So … you ordered food?” I asked, looking at Tatum. “We’re finished talking?”
“You love your friend, don’t you?”
“Reagan? Yes. More than anything
.”
Tatum picked up a french fry and, after taking a bite, met my eyes once more. A new look radiated out of her.
“Just how much do you love her?”
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