by Evan Ronan
I’m sure she feels the same way also.
“We’re not talking about what happened between your mother and me, sweetheart. We’re talking about your relationship with her. And that’s why I was calling. I thought we could go out tomorrow night, have a nice long dinner, and talk it out. I’m sure we can come up with some ideas together.”
“Could I live with you?”
I almost scream yes but at the last moment hold back. I would love it if Tammy moved in with me. She wouldn’t have to change schools. She’d keep all her friends. I could sell the pool hall and pay off the house and have enough to reinvest in another venture. The only problem with that lovely dream is, I don’t have the next thing figured out yet.
I have to be careful here. According to the terms of our divorce, Lorelei has primary custody of our daughter. Not to mention the fact that Lorelei would be completely devastated if Tammy upped and moved out.
Also, I feel like this is a bit of a knee-jerk reaction from Tammy. She and my ex have always gotten along really well. I don’t want Tammy running from one parent to the other when she doesn’t feel like working things out.
“I would love for you to live with me,” I say, “but we’d all have to think it over, long and hard. I’d have to talk about it with your mother. She keeps a regular schedule—”
“Who cares about regular? You don’t do what everybody else does and you’re happy. Why shouldn’t I follow your example instead of Mom’s? Why is Mom’s way better?”
For thirteen, she’s really old.
“All I’m saying is we’d have to think about it. You and your mother need to work out your issues, that’s very important.”
“Fine.” Tammy sighs. “I knew you were going to say no.”
“Hold on. I didn’t say no.”
“Whenever you have to think about something, you always say no.”
Cue Teenager Tammy.
Deep breath. “Let’s just sit on it and talk about it some more tomorrow night. Okay?”
“Alright.”
We figure out where we’re going and what time and then we say our goodbyes. I drive the next thirty minutes to campus in pure silence.
Eighteen
Friday night at a college campus in the spring, and it’s everything I expect.
The streets are packed. Students wander around, red cups in hand. Music blasts from everywhere. The guys strut and the woman flaunt and campus security is out in full force, fully anticipating the outrageous number of drunks who will soon, if they aren’t already, roaming the streets and just looking for reasons to fight.
Like some comedian once said, there’s nothing scarier than a bunch of drunk dudes looking to get laid.
But I don’t go right to the frat house. I’ve got another stop first.
I wander half a block off campus to an apartment block. The door is propped open so I duck inside and head up to the second floor. I find the room I want, am about to knock when the door opens—
Lori stops dead in the doorway. She’s wearing sweats and a t-shirt and there’s a gym bag strapped over her shoulder.
“No party tonight?” I ask.
She nudges me out of the way with the bag and pulls her door shut, checks the knob to make sure it’s locked. Without giving me another glance, she starts to leave.
“How long were you two together?” I ask.
This stops her cold.
And I know I’m right.
Sometimes I’m pretty dense. Sometimes it takes me a little bit to catch on. I don’t beat myself up over it, though. Better late than never.
Without turning, Lori says, “She told you.”
I don’t answer. That way, I don’t have to lie.
Slowly, Lori turns around. I stay right where I am. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, then comes back to me.
“We were together long enough.”
“Long enough?” I ask.
“Some girls are just curious. They wonder what it’s like to be with another woman,” Lori explains. “They try it one night, just to see if they like it. Sometimes one night turns into a few weeks. If it lasts longer than that, or if they come back a month or two later, then what they’ve got is more than curiosity.”
I nod.
Lori smiles sadly. “That’s how it was with Lucy. She wasn’t curious. She knew who she was.”
“You and Lucy were together while your brother was …” I let that dangle.
Lori shakes her head. “Lucy and I had been friends since freshman year, when we lived on the same floor. We grew close because we swam together and my brother was always around. When he started to … she came to me for help. She thought I could talk to him.”
“And did you?”
“I tried. He denied everything, just like he did with Casey.”
“Where is he?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I swear to God, I don’t know.”
“So you and Lucy dated.”
“Not quite,” Lori says. “I’m out. But she’s religious.”
“Her father’s religious,” I interject.
Lori shrugs. “She didn’t want anybody to know. In the beginning, when we were together, she just made up excuses, like she was lonely, or she was drunk, and that it wouldn’t happen again. The first time she actually apologized.”
“Must have been difficult for you.”
Lori shrugs. “It’s happened to me before. I’m out, so other girls that are curious come to me in secret. Lucy wasn’t the first who did this to me.”
“Still.”
Lori takes a deep, sad breath. “Yeah, okay. It hurt with Lucy.”
“Why her?”
“Because I love her.”
There it is.
“With the other girls, it was just fooling around and having a good time. And I knew most of them were only curious, not really gay. Lucy was different. I love her. And she loved me.”
“She broke it off,” I say.
Lori nods, wipes under an eye. “I thought we were going to be together. Toward the end, she started making promises, like she was going to tell her parents and come out so we didn’t have to hide anymore. But then one day, she was just different. Distant. She tried making it about my brother, how she just had to get away from him but that wasn’t a reason. That was an excuse.”
“Must have hurt.”
“It killed me.” Lori closes her eyes for a moment. “It just killed me. And now here I am. I quit the team, I lost my best friend, and now my brother is …”
“Where do you think he is?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have no idea?”
She shakes her head. “I was so mad at him. I blamed him for driving me and Lucy apart. We haven’t spoken in a while.”
While she’s telling me this, another piece of the puzzle falls into place. “Lucy called you this week. Didn’t she?”
“Yes,” she says tentatively.
“And after you heard what happened to Lucy at the party, you must have been angry.”
“I was.” She looks away. “At her.”
“You felt betrayed.”
She nods.
“But you still love her.”
She nods again.
“So you must have been angry with Brody too.”
Her voice is pure righteous evil. “I wanted to kill him.”
“You’re no shrinking violet,” I say. “You confronted him.”
“I threatened to tell everybody if he didn’t admit to it.”
“And how did he respond?”
There is murder in her eyes. “His parents are beyond rich. They have lawyers for their lawyers. He said he’d sue me or anybody else that talked.”
I don’t know what to say.
“Everybody talks,” she says. “There were rumors going around about me and Lucy. Everybody thought we were more than friends. My sexuality is no secret. So Brody really enjoyed telling me about how he fucked her and about how much she liked it.”
God.
“What did you do?”
“I wanted to kill him, but all his talk about lawyers and ruining me and getting me kicked out of school, all of that scared me.” She hangs her head in shame. “So I didn’t do anything.”
“Lori, we have to find your brother now. He’s going to do something.”
“No.” She shakes her head emphatically as the tears start up again. “No, he would never.”
“Come on. You know that’s not true.”
“He would never actually hurt her.”
“That’s how these things go,” I say.
“How do you know?” she challenges.
“I saw it myself.” And the memories come back. The horrifying memories of a long, dark night. “One of my friends became obsessed with a woman. The signs were all there. He constantly talked about her, he went out of his way to see her, and he asked her again and again for dates. Every time she said no, he just grew more determined. We thought it was just a guy being a guy. It was twenty years ago, and we didn’t know any better. We were just kids ourselves. You know what happened?”
She has gone very still.
“One night he broke into her apartment while she was out. He waited there, in the dark living room, till she came home. Then he took a gun out.”
I pause, look into her eyes.
“He pointed it at her. He said she had to make a choice. Either they could be together, or he’d shoot her and then himself.”
She is holding her breath.
“After six hours of negotiation, the police were able to talk him down. He let her leave the apartment and then he shot himself in the head.”
A hand goes up over her mouth.
“This is how these things go,” I say, “unless we take action. Your brother is sick. He needs help. Let’s get him the help he needs.”
“I hate him,” she says. “I don’t want to help him.”
“You can hate him,” I say. “And you can also love him at the same time. You’re human. It’s okay.”
She covers her eyes. “I hate him. And I hate her. And now I’m just lost.”
“It’s okay. You’re young. You’ll figure it out. Trust me. You will. Help me help your brother.”
She looks at me and in a weak voice says, “I’ll try to get in touch with him. But I can’t make any promises.”
“Thank you.”
She lingers a moment. “Does Lucy ever talk about me?”
“She tries not to. And that tells me how much she still cares.”
***
I head back to fraternity row. On the way over, I get a call.
It’s from Denise, the woman who just broke up with me forty-eight hours ago.
Ignore.
What could it possibly be now? I’m too old for games, I’m too old for people who don’t know what they want. Denise and I graduated from high school over twenty years ago, but deep down she’s still the same girl. I remember all those nights where we talked for hours but something always seemed to be left unsaid. I remember how she seemed to want me, but then there was always somebody else around too that she seemed to want more.
I thought she had grown out of that. I thought we all grew out of things and changed. Some of us do, but many of us don’t.
The phone buzzes. She’s left me a voicemail. I want to hit DELETE without even listening to it.
But I can’t.
Instead I put the phone away, punting on the decision.
The campus is alive, teeming with energy. But I’m in a mood. Talking to Lori has reminded me how badly love can wound us. I’ve had my heart broken also and consider myself relatively stable, and still I remember the insane thoughts that raced through my head after a bad break-up, all the anger and resentment and pleading and …
If I was like that, how must Adam be?
And how difficult must it be for Lucy? She feels like she has to hide her sexuality from her parents and from the world so much that she broke up with a woman she loved. All this while being stalked by the same person’s brother.
I’m all fired up as I head to Adam and Brody’s fraternity. A couple brothers are playing bouncer at the door and both regard me with a mixture of confusion and hostility as I approach.
“I’m here to see Brody,” I say.
One palms my shoulder. “This is a private party.”
I look down at the hand gripping my shoulder. “I’m not here for the party. Get Brody.”
His grip tightens, and his buddy shifts further to my other side.
“Do you want us to call campus security?” the kid asks. “Or just kick your ass?”
“Do you want me to tell everybody what Brody did? Or are you going to let me talk to him?”
The hand loosens a bit. The guy moving behind me hesitates.
“Your choice, kid,” I say. “I’m half a mind to call campus security myself and let them investigate.”
The guy lets go. “Stay right here.”
The other guy slips inside.
The party rages while we wait on the porch, glaring at each other. It’s a long five minutes before Brody steps outside, all swagger.
“Greg.” Brody gives me a smile. “Come on. Let’s talk.”
I shoulder past the brother playing bouncer and follow Brody inside. I have to be careful here. I’m running real hot and feel like beating the shit out of him. But like Lucy said, it’s just his word against hers. As crazy as this sounds, there are other fish to fry right now. I need this asshole’s and his brothers’ help to find Adam. That’s why I’m here.
I’ll get Brody later.
Brody leads me upstairs, away from the party. We pass a bunch of open doors till we get to a closed door at the end of the hallway. He turns with a smile and opens the door. The only illumination comes from a bunch of black lights.
“Let’s talk, Greg,” Brody says.
I sense somebody behind me a second too late. They push me toward the room and with catlike reflexes Brody sticks a foot out just in time, and I tumble inside. Trying to break my fall, I bang an elbow on something and then a knee, and I end up on my side.
The door bangs shut. Then the beating starts.
Feet start battering me, as I twist on the floor, unsure which way to go. There are at least four of them. I accept that I’m going to get hurt and loosen up, forcing myself to keep my eyes open. A painful heel slams into my back, another hits me in the kidney, but I keep my eyes open to see when the next one’s coming and when it does, I grab an ankle and twist it as hard as I can and somebody falls next to me.
I roll over top of him into the next closest guy and tie him up. He loses his balance and starts to go down and there’s a brief enough respite from the foot strikes that allows me to get up.
These guys might be in fabulous shape. They might even be tough.
But I was a Marine.
With two of them on the ground, I go on the offensive. I see a punch coming and bring my shoulder up to absorb the blow and deliver a right cross that staggers Brody backward. The other guy still on his feet swings wildly, and I slip the punch and uppercut him as hard as I can on the chin.
Down he goes.
Somebody grabs my leg and pulls. Instead of straining against the pull, I let the guy drag me down till my knee lands on his chest. I put my full weight against him and crack him on the temple.
Lights out, buddy.
Somebody jumps on my back and then I’m staggering around the room while he holds on with one hand and tries to hit me with the other one. I hear a lamp crash and something shatter but I keep spinning. He holds on long enough for his friends to regroup, and then they close on me.
A fist drives into my stomach, robbing me of my air. This is not good.
Not good at all.
Gasping, I take a few more shots. Even though my adrenaline is pumping, I can feel myself tiring already. Nothing exhausts you like fighting. Nothing. It taxes you in ways you can never prepare for. Even the greatest fighters in the world
get winded.
And I’m not exactly in MMA-shape.
I’m able to toss the guy off my back, but then the other three gang up on me and I know it’s over. Two of them lock me up and Brody starts hitting me. He might not throw the best punch, but he’s in world-class shape and that kind of makes up for it. As a last desperate measure, I kick as hard as I can and luckily connect with his groin.
Brody’s knees sag together and with a hand over his crotch, he slumps to the ground.
Shame the others are rallying.
I’m still locked up and they’re wailing on me. I hear heavy footsteps running down the hall and now I know I’m really screwed. More brothers are coming. I’ll be lucky if I wind up at the hospital.
The door is thrown open.
“BREAK IT UP!”
From this night forward, I will never make fun of campus security guards again.
Nineteen
I take the ice pack off the side of my face.
Everything hurts.
Even a couple fingernails.
Fingernails!
“Lori call it in?” I ask.
From behind his desk, Glen Jarek nods. “You’re lucky she did.”
“Did she follow me?”
“Yes. She said that you had a conversation in her apartment building right before the incident.”
Incident. That’s cute. Meanwhile my head is throbbing.
“We did.”
“What about?”
“About my client, Army. Who do you think?”
I’m in no mood to answer questions. But then again, I’ve got to play somewhat nicely here. I did just step onto his campus and incite a brawl at a fraternity house. Never mind I was in the right. Cops don’t necessarily care about right and wrong, or even justified. More often they just want things to be nice and quiet. For people to get along without nearly killing each other.
“You’re lucky, Marine,” he says. “Brody doesn’t want to press charges.”
“He’s lucky,” I say. “That I didn’t get him alone.”
Jarek laughs. “I don’t know about that. You’re, what? Forty? He’s a world-class swimmer. My money’s on him.”
Ah, screw you too. “You know why he doesn’t want to press charges?”