Tameless

by Gilmore, Jess

  “Why?”

  “I can’t say.”

  For the first time in my life, I felt a little anger toward her. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “You have to trust me on this. I can’t tell you why. You know I’ve always kept our talks confidential, right?”

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I was dumbfounded.

  “Well,” she said, “I’m like that with everyone. If someone tells me something they don’t want anyone to know, I don’t tell anyone. I’m sorry, Dawn. I just can’t. All I can say is that I think it would be best if you didn’t see him anymore.”

  “Is it something Wes told you? Back then?”

  “No.”

  “Is he…” I didn’t want to say the word but I had to. “Is there something dangerous about him?”

  “No, sweetie. That is something I would tell you. I wouldn’t let you get yourself in a situation where you were in some kind of danger. I promise.”

  I believed her. And I couldn’t fault her for keeping something confidential that someone had told her. I had come to her a handful of times in my life and talked to her about things that I didn’t want anyone to know. She’d always kept her word. Telling Aunt Jackie something was like putting it in a vault.

  She knew something. Someone had told her something. But what? And who?

  I could have begged. I could have pleaded. Maybe even worked up some tears—I was already on the edge of breaking down—and put her in a position to tell me what she couldn’t tell me. But that would have been unfair to Aunt Jackie. I knew how important confidentiality and privacy were to her, and I’d been the beneficiary of her strict adherence to that several times.

  I started to cry, and between my sobs she said, “Trust me, Dawn. You have to trust me on this.”

  I managed to get control of myself. I had to get back to work. Great. My face was going to be red and puffy and my makeup would be smeared. “I have to go.” I hung up without saying goodbye.

  . . . . .

  “I’m going to tell them right now.” I said the words just as Wes answered his phone, before he even had a chance to say anything.

  Wes was silent for a moment, then said, “You sound pissed.”

  “I am. I am. Fuck.”

  “Maybe you should calm down before you—”

  “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!” I yelled, actually pulling the phone away from my face and holding it in front of my mouth. I instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken this out on you.”

  “Tell me what’s going on, Dawn.”

  I wanted to, needed to tell him what had just happened, but I wanted to do it face to face. “Can I come to your place in a little while? I’m sure this won’t take long.”

  “I can meet you there.”

  “Okay, good.”

  “No,” he said. “I mean I can meet you at your house if you want. We can tell them together.”

  His offer made me want to cry—that he’d put himself in such an uncomfortable position for me, just to make what I had to do easier on me. But I was too angry to cry. I’d cried before when angry, but I don’t think I’d ever been this pissed before. “I can handle it. I’ll text you and let you know what’s going on.”

  “Call.”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t text. I want to hear your voice. So call and let me know what’s up.”

  “Okay,” I said, making the right turn onto my street. “I’m almost there.”

  “Hey, Dawn?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This is all going work out. Trust me.”

  My parents were in the kitchen when I got home. I heard them as soon as I walked through the front door. I closed it gently and stood there for a moment. They were arguing. Dad’s voice was loud, an octave higher than it usually was. Mom was talking quickly. These were the two signs I’d always keyed in on that let me know something was terribly wrong. I couldn’t hear their exact words, but I did pick up the phrase, “We’re going to tell her the second she gets home.” That was Dad’s voice, and he seemed to have discerned that I was indeed home. I heard his footsteps leave the kitchen, walking through the dining room, and then he and Mom were standing there looking at me.

  Dad’s frown was severe. Mom’s arms were crossed tightly across her chest.

  “Wes was in this house?” Dad said, his nostrils flaring a bit. I hadn’t seen him this mad since the day Wes left.

  How the hell did they know? I didn’t have a chance to say anything.

  Mom said, “Dawn, this is very serious. Why was he here?”

  “You’ve been talking to him? Seeing him? How long?” Dad demanded.

  “Why was he here?” Mom repeated.

  Dad started to say something, but I cut him off. “If you guys would let me speak, I’ll answer you.”

  “And why didn’t you tell us you broke up with Scott?” Mom asked, her voice more shrill now than just seconds ago.

  “Are you going to let me say anything?” I said. And I walked past them, into the den, where I sat. They followed, and stood before me. I felt like I was thirteen again and had broken curfew. So I stood back up. “Who told you?”

  “That’s not important,” Dad said.

  “It is to me. Who told you?” It had to be Aunt Jackie. I’d just talked to her, and she’d given me that dire but vague warning. She must have called them. But it was so unlike her to break trust. “Scott,” I said, flatly. “It was Scott.”

  “Yes,” Mom said, “it was Scott. He was here not even thirty minutes ago and dropped this bomb on us.”

  Fucking asshole. It was one thing for him to try to fight for me, make an attempt to get me back, that would’ve been understandable, normal. But he must have known it wouldn’t have worked, and he’d come to tell my parents what I’d done, just like we were little kids again. Fucking great.

  “Look,” I said, “what I do with my life is my business—”

  “The hell it is,” Dad said.

  I felt my face tighten, scrunching into what must have looked like a severely distorted version of me. “What?” I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. “I’m twenty-five.”

  “And you live under our roof,” Mom said. “Why was Wes here?”

  I decided that if they were going to treat me like I was twelve, I was going to act like it. “Because I invited him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I did.” Okay, that was enough of playing the game. You’re an adult, be an adult, I told myself. “Because I’ve been seeing him. Because we have something real and genuine.”

  My dad put his hands to his face, covering his mouth. “Oh, my God,” he mumbled.

  Mom said, “Dawn, you know he’s dangerous, you know what he did.”

  I shook my head slowly, firmly, absolutely sure of myself. “You don’t know him.”

  Now Mom was covering her face. Her eyes, to be exact. She’d kept one arm across her chest, raised the other one and put her hand over her eyes like a visor. She was shielding herself from what I was saying. Shielding herself from the truth as I knew it.

  “Scott and I were never meant to be. We stayed together because of you two, and his parents. With Wes, I have something real. And I don’t care what you think about it.”

  My dad took a step closer to me, looking down at me. “You are never to bring him into the house again. Is that understood? You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

  I felt the rage burning inside me, gathering strength, building toward an explosive outburst that I’d probably regret for the rest of my life if I said it. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, that he had no idea what he was talking about. But he’d just alluded to something—I had no idea what I was getting myself into? It was more direct than what Aunt Jackie told me, but it was along the same lines.

  “Why don’t you tell me?” I said, raising my eyebrows, taunting my father. “Maybe if I had an idea what I was getting into, I’d come to my senses and stop seeing him. Ri
ght? So tell me, Dad.” I turned my head toward my mother, raising my voice. “Or you can tell me, Mom. Doesn’t anyone have the guts to tell me?”

  Chapter 24 – Wes

  “Well, what the fuck did they say?” I asked her.

  Dawn had been telling the story, dragging it out, crying uncontrollably. She’d come to my apartment in this state. Hadn’t texted, hadn’t called like I asked, at least not until she was five minutes away from my place.

  We were sitting on my couch now, she was lying down with her head on my leg and facing me. She was trying to get the words out between sobs.

  “They didn’t say anything. They just walked away from me. So I left, and came here.”

  She had a strand of her hair across her cheek and sticking to the side of her mouth. I moved it, and tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “The crazy thing is, at first I thought it was Aunt Jackie.”

  “Why?” I asked, confused. “She knows about us?”

  We were silent for a few moments. She was calming down, and then she said, “I told Aunt Jackie about us.” She looked at me with pleading in her eyes, a look that was saying something like: Don’t be mad at me. And I wouldn’t be mad at her. She needed someone to talk to, at least she’d chosen the person she trusted the most.

  “And?” I said.

  “I’m sorry. I had to talk to someone. It was a couple of weeks ago.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “There’s something she’s not telling me. She kept telling me we’d be better off not seeing each other.”

  “Jesus, her too? I thought she liked me.”

  Dawn nodded. “She does, she does. I know she does. The way she was telling me to stay away…it was like it was for both of us, not just me.”

  “What did she say?”

  She shrugged. “She wasn’t specific. Just said it would be better for both of us if we weren’t together.”

  “You didn’t ask why?” My tone had more harshness, more accusation in it, than I’d intended, but it didn’t seem to faze Dawn.

  She brought her hand to her face and wiped her eyes. I handed her another tissue. She’d gone though at least a dozen already. They were piled up on my coffee table and a few were on the floor.

  “Yeah,” she said, dabbing her eyes. “I did ask why. But you know how I told you she was always someone I could go to and tell anything to and she’d never tell anyone?”

  I nodded.

  “Well,” she said, “that’s why she said she couldn’t tell me. She said it was something she knew but couldn’t reveal.”

  This was starting to piss me off. All of this was about me, about Dawn and me, actually. And there was something that everyone but us knew.

  Dawn clearly read my increasing anger and frustration. She reached up and put her open hand on my cheek. Her soft palm caressed me, trying to soothe me.

  I took a deep breath, turning my attention to the anger I felt over this whole situation. “What the fuck is wrong with Scott? This is like some high school…actually middle school bullshit.”

  “Ugh, God!” She screamed in frustration. “Can we not talk about this right now? I mean, maybe later?” She changed the subject without waiting for me to respond. “Tell me about work.”

  I didn’t want to talk about work, but this wasn’t just about what I wanted. Dawn had had an incredibly rough day and she was obviously emotionally drained. I knew she was asking me about my day in order to get my mind off of all the bullshit, but she was also trying to give herself a little break.

  “I met the camera operator and the second assistant camera guy today. We’re going to scout locations in San Francisco in two weeks.”

  “Really? What’s the movie?”

  “Can’t say. It’s classified.”

  Dawn smiled for the first time that night, and she lightly slapped me on my chest. “Tell me.”

  I told her about the movie, and how I’d been able to see an early version of the script. I told her about the conference call I sat in on with Max, Olivia, and a couple of people from Showtime who were interested in taking the movie right to their channel, rather than having it released in theaters. I told her about the discussion afterward, and how I sat there silently and listened to Max talk with his production team about the growing trend toward releasing movies on TV and the Internet. There was talk of making Showtime wait a little while, so maybe Netflix, Hulu, or any of the other streaming services could bid on it.

  “The business side of it was interesting,” I said, “but I’m glad I don’t have to deal with it.”

  Dawn was looking at me, listening to me talk with enthusiasm about how my love of photography and videography was rekindled, and now I had an actual shot at doing something with it professionally.

  “And I talked to Max about school,” I said.

  Dawn’s eyebrows raised. “What did he say? Let me guess, he’s going to fund it?”

  “Nope. Exactly the opposite. He said, and I quote, ‘It’s a waste of time and money. You’ll learn everything you need to know working for me.’”

  “Wow.”

  That’s what I had thought when he told me. The guy knew what he was talking about, no doubt. Who was I to challenge his knowledge? I was surprised not only because I found myself relieved that a degree in filmmaking or photography/videography wasn’t necessary, but also because the way he said it made it sound like he was making me a long-term promise of employment. And that was confirmed when he said to me, “I like what I see so far in your work. Don’t fuck up and you’ll be writing your own ticket in five years.”

  So things were looking great for me professionally. It was the first major positive thing that had happened to me since getting sober.

  That, and Dawn, of course. But now my relationship with Dawn was threatened by something someone else knew, something no one would tell her.

  And since they wouldn’t tell her, I had no choice but to see if they’d tell me.

  Chapter 25 – Dawn

  I woke up the next morning in Wes’s bed, his arms draped around me, holding me close. We were facing each other. He was still asleep, so I spent a minute or so just looking at him. His face was relaxed, calm. I felt just the opposite. I had slept with every muscle in my body tense. And I woke up feeling the ache, but watching Wes rest so peacefully transferred a little of the relaxation to me.

  And then his eyes shot open quickly. “I can’t sleep when you’re staring at me like that.”

  “Sorry.”

  He smiled. “I’m kidding. I could wake up every day for the rest of my life with you staring at me.”

  I felt the blood rush to my head, heart pounding in response to his words. It was the closest we’d come to discussing our future together. I didn’t want to push that issue, though. There was plenty to settle in the meantime. So I just said, “Promise?”

  He nodded without saying anything. He didn’t have to. I trusted him, and he knew it.

  . . . . .

  I’d quickly packed a bag last night when I was leaving my house. Which, by the way, no longer felt like my house. It was my parents’ house. It wasn’t my home anymore.

  I’d have to go back there at least once, though, to get more clothes. I’d only brought five days’ worth with me.

  Wes had to get over to the wine distributor’s offices and tell them he was quitting. No two-week notice, he was just leaving. It was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up, and they’d either understand or they wouldn’t.

  I got to work by nine o’clock, just as the store was opening. Mornings were usually slow, at least during the week, and there was a lot of time to talk, which isn’t what I wanted to do. Luckily, we’d received a shipment of clothes the previous day, so there was a ton of work to be done in getting all the new stuff out on the sales floor. I kept to myself most of the morning.

  During a fifteen minute break, I checked my phone. There were two missed calls, both from my parents’ home number. They’d left a voicemail with each call. I deleted both without l
istening to them. I sent a text to my mom’s phone telling them I needed some space, that I would talk to them when I was ready, and at the moment I wasn’t even close to ready.

  I called Scott at lunch. I hadn’t planned on it, but the more I sat there thinking about what he’d done, the more I knew I wouldn’t make it through the day without getting this done, finally.

  He picked up immediately. “Thank God.” There was relief in his tone. “I was just about to come see you.”

  “Don’t.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t come see me,” I said. “Not at work, not anywhere.”

  “We have a lot to talk about.”

  I was sitting in the food court, eating a salad. More like just picking at it. I had no appetite. “No, we don’t.” I couldn’t yell where I was, I’d look like a crazy person, but my voice was lower, firm, coming through nearly clenched teeth. “We have nothing to talk about—”

  He cut me off. “You called me.”

  “Yeah, but not because we have anything to talk about. I don’t care what you have to say about any of this. I don’t give a shit if you think you have some good reason for doing what you did, and I really don’t care if you think you have any chance of apologizing and making this right.”

  “Dawn, I am sorry. That’s what I was coming to tell you. That, and you’re making a huge mistake.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yeah,” he said, harshly. “Being with Wes. That guy’s a loser and you know it.”

  “You don’t know him.”

  I heard a door close, and figured he’d ducked into an office or maybe stepped outside. “I know he’s a loser, that’s what I know. You want to be with a guy who does the shit he does?”

  “That was years ago.”

  “Once a loser, always a loser,” Scott said, and I could almost feel the heavy smugness and condescension in his voice.

  “That’s bullshit. He’s changed.”

  “He’s a piece of shit. You deserve better. He’ll just end up hurting you.”

  I closed my eyes, squinting hard, trying to contain the rage building inside. “He’s never done anything with the intention of hurting me. But you have. The one person I thought all along would never do anything to hurt me, and you did.”