by A. M. Wilson
It’s been two weeks since I walked out of that hotel room. Two weeks of torture, of questioning my decisions. Two weeks of staring at my cell, willing it to ring and fighting back the urge to reach out to her. Two miserable weeks of watching her walk down the halls and sit in my classroom. So close, yet so out of my reach.
But that’s not the worst of it.
The worst of it is, I feel a loss I haven’t felt in two years. And that every day I see her, she looks as miserable as I feel.
I remain standing while Trey sits his ass on the corner of his desk. And I wait.
“You wanna tell me what’s been going on?”
“Not really.”
“Too fuckin’ bad. One minute you’re crazy over this girl, the next you’re acting like she died.”
“Trey.” My voice holds a warning I know he can hear. He just shakes his head at me before continuing his train of thought.
“I know that was harsh, man, but listen to me. I haven’t seen you this depressed since you showed up here two years ago. That’s how you look right now. It’s like a damn flashback.”
“I do not look that bad.”
“Really? When was the last time you got a decent night’s sleep? You look like shit.”
I scrub my palms over my face. Shit, he’s right. I haven’t slept well in two weeks.
“Whatever. Is that all you wanted to say?”
“Talk to me! You’re like my goddamned brother. I know this sounds like some girly shit, but I’m concerned. What’s going on?”
My heart starts beating so hard it’s slamming around my ribs like a tennis ball. Vomit crawls up the back of my throat, and I swallow hard to choke it down. I wish I hadn’t been such an asshole. I wish it wasn’t so hard to find the girl I want and take her—make her mine. But that’s the thing about wishes, they always come in these fleeting moments. A shooting star, a blowing dandelion, birthday candles, 11:11. Wishes should be long lasting, not a spur of the moment request. Why don’t we wish on rocks? They never die. Maybe more wishes would come true if we could hold the object we wished on forever.
“What’s going on is that I’m in love with her!” The hoarseness of my voice shocks the hell out of me. Trey, too. At least for a moment before he shakes it off.
“So what’s the problem? Last we talked about this, I thought a decision had been made. What happened?”
“I left her. I can’t—she has some problems, and they scared the hell out of me. I got angry, and I left. We haven’t talked since.”
“What kind of problems,” Trey asks, genuine concern dripping from his tone.
I scrub my hand over my eyes. I shouldn’t tell him. Fuck, it’s not my place, but I don’t know how to handle this. I need advice. I thought I could walk away, but the past two weeks have shown me that I can’t.
“She—fuck. I don’t know how to say this. She hurts herself, man.” Saying those words aloud chokes me up, and I want to throttle something. It hurts like a physical pain in my chest. I’ve been carrying it around for two weeks. Every time I think of her wrists, it’s like a knife plunging into the space between my ribs.
“What do you mean she hurts herself,” he asks cautiously.
“I mean she’s a cutter. Fuck. I don’t think she’s suicidal, but what do I know? We hadn’t had a chance to talk about it before I walked out on her.”
When I look over at Trey, I’m surprised to see how upset he looks. His hands are clenched into fists by his sides, and there’s a muscle jumping in his tightly clenched jaw. I don’t know why, but the topic has hit a nerve with him.
“Don’t leave her like that, man. You find something like that out, you don’t fucking leave her.”
“I messed up. I don’t know how to fix it.”
Trey crosses the small space to sit on one of the padded chairs. “When did this happen?”
“About two weeks ago.”
“Two weeks? Christ, no wonder you look like shit.”
“Can you stop saying that? It’s really not helping,” I grumble, causing Trey to crack a grin.
“Did I bruise your ego?”
“Yes,” I deadpan.
Trey laughs, somehow managing to lighten the heavy mood. “Dude, you are so fucked!”
“What?”
“You have it bad. So what are you waiting for? Go get your girl.”
I slowly shake my head feeling defeated. “I don’t think I can.”
“For fuck’s sake, why not?” he asks, crossing his arms over his sweaty chest. Unlike me, Trey actually did a hard workout this morning.
God, this is going to make me sound like a pussy. But Trey’s right, if anyone is like family to me, it’s him.
“I don’t think I can be what she needs.” Trey begins to interrupt so I put up my hand to stop him. “Hear me out.”
He puts his hand up in a gesture for me to get on with it. I can tell he’s becoming impatient. The world is so black and white to Trey. But my world has never been anything less than a huge cloud of gray.
“Even if we can get past the issue of her being my student, which is only a few more weeks from now, she still has problems. I’m not saying that to be a dick, I’m saying it because I have my own issues too. You know that, better than anybody. How can I help her work through her shit if I can’t see my way through my own?” I sigh, letting the silence linger so Trey knows he’s free to talk. There isn’t much more for me to say. I laid it all out there, and now I feel bare.
“Are you listening to yourself? What issues do you have? Because to me, it sounds like your only issues are those that deal with her. Not once in this conversation have you brought up the past as being a problem. Your problem is that you’re in love with a girl, and you let her go. So get off your ass and fucking get her. Stop thinking so damn hard, you’ll give yourself an aneurysm.”
Well that’s a huge dose of clarity if I’ve ever had one. It’s like he just whacked me upside the head with a two-by-four of truth.
I’m silent for a moment while I think, and realize Trey’s right. Several weeks have passed since I last sat and thought entirely about Harper. Since I felt a crushing weight of guilt at the slightest thought of her. Even the random phone calls from Brent don’t carry the same heaviness they first did a few months ago.
Scrubbing my forehead, I sigh. “It’s because of Tatum.”
“What?” Trey asks quietly.
“Almost immediately after I began to focus on Tatum, I started to feel less guilty about Harper. That weekend, where we met you at the bar, was a rough one. I couldn’t help thinking of all the ways I failed Harper and how I was no good for Tatum. How I’d eventually let her down too. But when I think about it, it’s almost like that got Harper out of my system. All my energy has been focused on one person over the past several weeks.”
The trademark, carefree grin spreads across Trey’s face. “What’d I tell you, man?”
“You gloat, I’m gonna kick your ass. Besides, this isn’t over yet. I have some things to take care of before I talk to Tatum. Loose ends to tie up.”
Trey stands and walks to the office door, opening it. We both step into the hallway and walk towards the entrance. “Don’t take too long. She doesn’t seem like a patient girl if I remember correctly.”
Faster than I knew I was capable, I turn and slug Trey in the shoulder.
“Dude!” he cries.
“Don’t ever think about kissing her again,” I hiss through clenched teeth. Trey bursts out in a laughing fit, bent double and clutching his abdomen.
“You’ve got it so bad!” he replies laughing the entire time.
“I mean it.”
Trey lifts two fingers in the air. “Boy scouts promise.”
“Fuck off. You weren’t a Boy scout.”
“I know,” Trey replies with a wink.
I’m about to punch him again when we’ve reached the entrance, and the door is propped open by none other than Tatum. My heart clenches at the sight of her. She looks utterl
y exhausted and worn. Her hair is tied on the top of her head in a loose bun, tendrils floating around her face and neck. She has some purplish spots beneath her eyes, and her skin just looks dull. She doesn’t look quite ill but she looks…off. I don’t like it. This is my fault, and I’m going to do everything I can to fix it. I just need a little bit more time.
“Uh, hey, Tatum,” Trey greets, his cheery welcoming falling just this short of genuine. It’s obvious he’s feeling the tension between us and doesn’t know how to react.
“Hey,” she replies while looking at her feet. Christ, she’s cute. I’d give just about anything to tilt her chin up, kiss the tip of her nose, and do something to make her grin. The tiredness in her features is tying my stomach in knots. I need to sort my shit, then I can sort out us.
“You looking for me?” I ask, rather stupidly. Who else would she be here to see?
Tatum fidgets with her black wristband on her left arm causing my eyes to zero in on the dark piece of fabric. Are there more cuts hiding underneath there since the last time I saw them? The thought of her hurting herself again makes me physically sick. Shit, I haven’t been there for her. What if she needed me?
“Actually,” she begins, cutting off my train of thought, and my eyes snap from her wrist to her face. “I’m here to see Trey.” She fidgets from foot to foot as though she’s nervous. What the fuck.
My eyes flicker over to Trey, and a vein of relief slithers through me that he seems as equally perplexed as I do. He doesn’t know why Tatum is here. I can end any suspicions of him backstabbing me before they take flight.
But then why is she here?
“Uh, sure. You takin’ me up on my offer to work out?” Trey jokes lightly, attempting to ease the heavy atmosphere.
“Not exactly. Um, can we, uh, talk in private?”
Fuck. Me.
My eyes snap back to Trey’s, and he gives me a minute shake of his head and a shrug of his shoulders. If I didn’t already trust the guy with my life, I’d think he was up to something behind my back. But he wouldn’t betray me.
Which leaves me with…
Is she trying to betray me?
“Yo, Jacoby.”
“Uh, what?” Once again my thoughts of betrayal are obliterated by Trey.
“I was just saying I’ll take Tatum to my office and catch up with you later. You have those things to deal with.”
Taking the hint, I reply, “Oh yeah, right. I’ll catch up with you later, man.” He nods at me, and I make my way to the door, passing Tatum in the entry.
“I’ll see you in class, Sweetheart.” Her eyes widen infinitesimally at the familiar endearment, but other than that, she gives nothing away. She gives me a small shake of her head, but otherwise doesn’t make eye contact as she walks towards Trey. My heart clenches, but I know this isn’t going to be easy. Hopefully with my endearment on her mind, she won’t think about trying anything with my best friend.
With one last nod to my friend, I step outside into the snowy cold. Winter hit hard and early this week, and the air is frigid and icy. A fresh blanket of snow covers the ground, and the air feels like a blizzard is coming. I walk carefully across the icy parking lot, trying not to slip as I make my way to my car. Once inside I crank the heat, buckle up, and make the call I’ve been dreading for months.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Mom. It’s me.”
“Oh, my God. Oh, my boy,” the woman on the other end of the line cries, and my chest burns with guilt.
It’s time to start tying up these loose ends.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Tatum
“Come on, honey, my office is right this way.”
My body jolts at the sound of Trey’s smooth voice, reminding me why I came here in the first place. It wasn’t to see Jacoby. I actually hadn’t considered the possibility that he came to work out in the mornings before school. I guess when I spent all my evenings at work, I assumed he used that time to catch up on his own personal life. Now, I feel like a huge moron.
Oh God, he’s probably wondering what I’m doing with Trey. I don’t blame him, considering I’ve kissed his best friend. Except the whole reason I’m here won’t leave Jacoby much room to talk if Trey confirms my suspicions. If I was less of a coward I would have questioned Jacoby myself, but I’m not. I might as well have Scaredy Cat stamped on my forehead.
I follow Trey through the gym, down a brightly lit hall of white cinderblock walls and gray linoleum floors until he stops outside a locked door. He opens it, holding it wide and using his arm to gesture me inside. As I pass, he smiles gently at me. I don’t know if that’s a good sign, or a bad one, so I give him a tired smile of my own.
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
The room looks like, well, an office. Four windowless cinderblock walls painted white, bare of any pictures or paintings. A small wooden desk pushed up against the wall to the right of the door way. The desk holds a laptop, charger, a cup of pens, and a small, messy stack of papers. Beside the desk sits a black three drawer filing cabinet, and across from it, on the opposite wall, are two padded chairs.
“Have a seat, hon, and tell me what’s going on.” Trey rests his butt against the edge of his desk and leans back to brace himself on his hands, gripping the edge.
If I was a different girl, in a different world, I could totally flirt with his position. Situate myself between his thick, muscled thighs, rest my hands against his tight pecs. I wonder if there’s a girl out there with his heart. He has an abundance of sweetness and charm, and I want that for him. He deserves to have a good woman who’ll look out for him.
When I finally perch against the edge of my seat, Trey says, “You look so tired,” in the gentlest voice I’ve ever heard. Tears prick the corners of my eyes. If I was foolish enough, I’d think he really cared.
“I’m okay,” I lie. I’m not even close. Especially not after this morning.
“Talk to me. What’s up?”
I blow out a deep breath. “Okay, so I promise I wasn’t doing anything I shouldn’t have been. I just need to know the truth.” My gaze drops to study Trey’s black and white Nike’s while I await his answer.
“So…what do you need to know?” When he speaks, my eyes flicker to meet his, and I’m mildly surprised to see a hint of suspicion there, along with concern. Oh crap, this isn’t going to be good.
“Well, Jacoby and I haven’t really been on speaking terms in a while.” Trey nods without losing eye contact, so I take a deep breath and continue. “Um, I really wanted to talk to him. We kind of left things…uncertain.” Shit, why does this have to be so hard? Why does it feel like the room is shrinking, and I’m sweating even though I’m in jeans and a light hoodie?
I cough to clear my suddenly parched throat.
“It’s okay. You can talk to me. Don’t be nervous, just tell me what happened so I can help you.”
Seriously, I really, really hope he has a good woman, because he’s a really, really nice guy.
I nod and lace my fingers together to keep from fidgeting. Otherwise I’m going to tear the paper in my hands to shreds. “Okay, so this morning I wanted to talk to him, so I drove over to his place. And when I pulled up, this tall, blonde woman was getting into her car. I don’t think she saw me, because she just drove away, but I’m positive she came from his house. Anyway, I went to the door to see if he was home, even though it really sucked to see another woman leaving his place.”
My fingers tremble as I wipe away the wetness gathering in the corner of my eye.
“So, I open the screen door to knock, and this paper falls to the ground. I’m stupid and shouldn’t have looked at it, but really, what would you do?” I finish, my voice shaking on the last few words. I’d give anything to feel unaffected if he’s seeing somebody else, but give me a break, it freaking hurts.
“Can I see the note?” Trey asks gently as he moves to stand in front of me. I don’t answer; instead I lift the paper between us. Trey grasps the note b
etween his thumb and pointer finger, but instead of taking it, he gives it a gentle shake to get my attention. My wet gaze finds his soft one, and I let out a small hiccup.
“Honey, listen to me. I’m going to read this, see if I can get the gist of what’s going on, but you do not need to cry. I know Jacoby, and that man is crazy over you. This is all going to work out, okay?”
If he saw the model-esque blonde leaving Jacoby’s this morning, I seriously doubt he’d be saying this to me. But what do I know? They’ve been friends a lot longer than I’ve been in this screwy picture. Nodding my head, I release the paper and turn slightly in my chair to study the blank wall while chewing on my thumbnail.
When had I let my life get more complicated? I swore to myself after the drama from last year I would keep my head down and finish school quietly. I wanted nothing more than to get my degree and save enough money to leave this town. I feel like I failed myself. It’s not like I had set ridiculously high goals for myself, but by allowing Jacoby into my life, it’s like I opened Pandora’s Box.
He made me feel things I never have before and didn’t think I would until I was long gone from this town and living a normal life. My goals were always to save enough money and go to college. Make something of myself. Maybe go to nursing school or become a Paramedic. I always thought somewhere in my late twenties or early thirties I’d become serious about finding someone to settle down with. I was never deluded with images of prince charming or soulmates. I just wanted someone who made me laugh and made me happy. Sure, he’d have flaws, but as long as he loved me, I’d be doing okay.
But even the greatest of cynics can’t deny there was something serendipitous about our late night encounter on the side of an empty highway. From the moment I met him, Jacoby brought out emotions in me I never knew existed. He melted the cage surrounding my heart and brought the greatest relief, even more powerful than my blade. I haven’t hurt myself in weeks. He gave me the control I craved by giving me freedom. Freedom from fear, freedom from judgment, freedom to be loved.
In doing so, even if he’s already moved on, he’s given me the freedom to fight for him. For us.