by Marcy Blesy
“Tell me.” Ty eyes me suspiciously. “Look, you told me to trust you. Then you have to trust me. Why did Mrs. Baker tell me that you’ve changed in the last ten years? What did she mean?”
“Good old Mrs. Baker.” Ty gets up to make dessert. He piles strawberries onto a plate with a piping hot biscuit. He squirts whipped cream on top of the strawberry shortcake. It looks delicious, but I can’t eat. I sit on the edge of my seat waiting for Ty to speak. “Mrs. Baker used to be married. Her husband Harold died a couple of years ago from cancer. Nice guy from what I’ve heard. He was a paramedic. One night a long time ago he and his team got a call to visit an apartment over this greasy spoon diner on Seventh Avenue in the heart of downtown. They’d been told by dispatchers that there’d been a fatal stabbing.” He pauses and looks me in the eye. “Mrs. Baker told me this story when I started Woodson Prep.” I nod my head for him to continue. “Turns out there was a man they found in the middle of the kitchen floor with a large steak knife still sticking out of his chest. The blood was thick. It was the middle of June with no air conditioning in the apartment. The cops found a trail of blood from the front door of the apartment which led to a fire escape landing down the hallway. They followed it. Lying outside they found the body of a woman. She was still alive, but barely. She had been shot in the leg and shoulder. She kept saying, ‘Did he get my boy? Did he get my boy?’ Nobody knew what she was talking about, but Harold had a hunch. While other paramedics tended to the woman and prepared her for transport to the hospital, he went back to the apartment and started looking around. Forensics were still taking crime scene photos and looking for evidence. Harold moved from room to room. Nobody knew why he was still there. Harold didn’t really know, either. He was ready to leave when he heard a muffled noise from the back bedroom that he’d already checked once. He opened the door. He saw nothing. He closed the door, but stayed in the room. That’s when he heard the noise again. Someone was in the room. Harold wasn’t carrying a weapon. He was pretty sure the murderer was hiding under the bed, but when he looked more carefully at the bed he realized that no adult could possibly fit in such a small space. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled over to the bed. Underneath he saw a small boy, about seven or eight, lying on his stomach and trying very hard not to cry. Harold told the young boy he was a paramedic and that he and the police were there to help him. Only when he promised to give the boy a piece of gum from his pocket did the boy decide to come out from under the bed. After he had that gum, the boy threw his arms around Harold and started sobbing, asking for his mommy.” Ty has tears in his eyes. He looks up at me. The setting sun is now reflecting in his wet eyes. My heart breaks.
“The boy was you,” I say softly. He shakes his head yes. “What happened next?”
“I was put into the foster care system. Six months after bouncing between houses, Mr. and Mrs. Barber adopted me.” He pauses. “I had a lot of therapy.”
“What about your parents?”
“I don’t even remember that day at all, completely blocked it from my mind. But I’ve been told that Mom went to prison. They went easy on her, though, because of the domestic violence in the house. I imagine she’s out by now. I never saw her again.”
“Do you want to see her again?”
“Sometimes I think I do, but she would have found me by now if she’d wanted to see me.”
“I’m so sorry, Ty.” No matter how they happen, broken hearts speak a universal language.
“So you see, Mae, sometimes when you don’t take the chance to really know someone, you hurt them by your judgments.”
“You’re right.” I have never believed that you could love someone you’ve known for only a short time, but there is no other word that could better describe the emotion I am feeling right now.
“You’ve got to let go of the past,” Ty says. He gets up and moves his chair next to mine. He puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. “I’ve never met anyone I could be so open with. People know about my past—it was all over the news—but no one asks. No one knows what to say; and until I told you, Mrs. Baker, my parents, and my therapist are the only people I’ve talked to about it.”
“I appreciate your telling me. I did judge you. I’m so sorry, but I’ve been running for a long time. To go back to that life without my dad or my sister or my grandma there in the midst of my mom’s grief, well, that’s tough.”
“Nobody said life was easy.”
“What if something goes wrong? What if someone I love gets hurt again?”
“What if you’re so afraid to love that you die a shriveled up lonely old hermit? Is that what you want? Life is about taking chances, Mae.”
“Do we have to go to prom?” I ask. “I want to stay here with you all night.”
Ty sighs. “My parents are waiting to take pictures at the dance. They’re chaperones, but we do have to eat this dessert. Looks like the whipped cream needs refreshing. He grabs the whipped cream can, shakes it, and squirts it in the middle of my lips. I’ve never had a sweeter kiss.
More people talk to me at the dance than have talked to me at all in the last few weeks. I wonder if Carmen opened her big mouth and spilled all of my truth to the whole senior class. I spend the evening dancing with Ty and a group of girls that includes Carmen.
“I don’t think I want to know everything you’ve said,” I say to Carmen, “but thanks.”
“No problem,” she says. “Have fun. And enjoy your Prince Charming.”
“He is treating me like a princess.”
“Good. Treat him back,” Carmen says.
I am thinking about what Carmen said to me when Ty taps me on the shoulder. An older couple stands behind him with large smiles on their faces.
“I’d like to introduce you to my parents,” he says.
“Oh, hi,” I say flustered. “My pleasure…to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all ours,” they say. “We’ve been dying to meet the girl who’s brought so much joy into our son’s life,” says Mrs. Barber. I wonder if I should thank them for helping me stay in school. But I don’t say anything. Do they know the real truth? “Can we get some pictures?” she asks.
After posing for pictures, Ty and I walk outside on the balcony of the community center where prom is held. The irony of the polar opposites of my two high school dances isn’t lost on me. Kyle and homecoming vs. Ty and prom aren’t even worth sharing space together in my brain.
“Do they know?” I ask.
“About your drug addicted mom?” he asks. I can’t tell if he is serious or not. “I’m just kidding. Sorry. Yes, they know you lied about your pseudo-mom and why you did it. It’s all cool, Mae.”
“They’re pretty amazing, aren’t they?” I ask.
“Yes. They still call me their miracle baby even though I didn’t arrive in their home until my eighth birthday.” He laughs. “I’m pretty lucky.” I stand facing him. He kisses me on the lips.
“You know, Principal Williams would love to bust us for making out,” I say.
“He would,” Ty agrees. “Should we test your theory?”
“Ha!” I push him away. “That will have to wait. Seriously, what’s with Mr. Williams anyway? Why is he so intent on bringing everyone down?”
“His wife left him for a woman.”
“What?” I ask.
“Yeah, kind of a blow to his masculine ego. He’s lying low. That’s why he hasn’t been riding your butt since the board meeting. I imagine he had suspicions for a while. See how everyone has a story?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. No wonder he’s down on love,” I say.
Ty tips up my chin so I’m facing him. “Do you believe in love, Mae Tatum?” I don’t know what to say. I know my answer, but I am still so afraid of being honest. “Tell me,” he says.
“It doesn’t make sense. We’ve only known each other a few weeks.”
“So what’s the magic time requirement for you, Mae?”
“You’re w
eird,” I say.
“Why?”
“I’ve never met any guys who talk like you.”
“I’m not like most guys.”
“Isn’t that the truth.”
He pulls me in for a warm hug and kisses the top of my head. Nothing could ever happen to ruin this night.
Chapter 10:
I open my eyes in panic. Where am I? I try to sit up, but it hurts to move.
“It’s okay, honey.”
“MOM?” I scream though my voice doesn’t sound very loud.
“It’s okay, honey,” she says again. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
“What happened? Where am I?” I start to think I’m dreaming. I haven’t seen my mom in over a year.
“There was an accident.”
“Oh, God.”
“No, it’s not as bad as it sounds. You’re bruised up, and the medicine’s made you sleepy, but thank the Lord, you’re going to be fine.” She wipes tears from her eyes.
“Mom,” I say. “Mom, I’m sorry.”
“Hush now. I’m thankful they called.”
“Who?”
“The police found your phone at the accident scene.” My head is throbbing. I don’t understand. One minute Ty and I are having the best night of my life at prom and then…
“Where’s Ty?” I scream sitting up on my elbows.
“Your friend?” she asks.
“Yes!” She squeezes my hand.
“He’s in the next room. Both of you will be released tomorrow.”
“I want to see him!”
“Hang on. I’ll be right back.” While she’s gone, I start to panic. What if she’s wrong? What if Ty is really hurt? What if he’s dead?”
“Mae, I…oh, it’s so good to see you.” Mr. Barber is pushing Ty into my room. He’s sitting in a wheelchair. His head is bandaged, and his face is littered with scratches.
“It’s all my fault,” I say. I start to cry.
He reaches out to touch my face when his dad parks him next to my bed.
“That jerk pulled out in front of us! There was nothing to do but swerve out of the way. I forgot about the stupid trees. You didn’t do anything. Thank God you’re okay.” I shake my head. It is my fault. This is what happens when I get close to someone. I should never have let Ty in my life. I’ve hurt him again. I’ve done it again. I scream inside my head. No one understands. No one gets it. I can’t do this anymore. I close my eyes and try to shut out the world.
“I think you kids need some sleep. You can talk again tomorrow,” says Mr. Barber. “Nice to meet you again, Mrs. Tatum.”
“Yes, you, too. Please tell your wife good night for me as well.”
When they are gone, I pull Mom in close so no one else can hear me.
“Take me home, Mommy. Take me home right now.”
I lie on the couch in my home, my real home, the place I should have been all along. I look at the picture of my family that sits on the fireplace mantle. It’s not one of those posed pictures where everyone sits with good posture and plastic smiles on their faces. Mom said she hated those pictures. “No personality,” she’d say. “Family pictures should show personality.” In this picture, Dad has his arms wrapped around Mom. Laura is twirling in a pirouette. She had to be six or seven. I’m playing my Nintendo DS like everyone is boring me to death. I’m about twelve. Petie is wagging his tail, trying to catch Laura’s long hair ribbons every times she twirls. He was so sad when Laura died. For weeks he slept on her bed, only leaving to go outside. He stopped eating. When Mom took Petie to the vet, he never came home. X-rays showed a tumor that wasn’t going to get better. Everyone in that picture is gone but Mom and me. I don’t know why, but no matter what I do, Mom is still here. I should have realized that sooner. I should have seen that my leaving was the only thing that was going to hurt her. Once again my choices caused pain. I’m going to make it up to her. I’m not going back to Woodson. I’m going to get my GED and go to the local college. I’ll live at home and help my mom. I won’t let her down anymore. She seems to understand. We haven’t had any heart-to-heart talks since I insisted I be discharged last night, but she knows why. And even if she doesn’t agree, I know she’s afraid to say anything that would make me run away again.
“How are you feeling today?” she asks, carrying a cup of coffee into the living room.
“A little tired and sore.” I rub my elbow.
“I think you should get back in bed. I called your pediatrician. He’s going to see you later today.”
“Aren’t I a little old for a pediatrician?” I ask.
“Probably. I’m sorry. It’s hard for me to see you as anything but my little girl. It’s just been…Oh, Macy, I’ve missed you so much.” She says all this while standing next to the couch, not sure if I can tolerate a hug from her or not.
“Mommy, I’m so sorry.” I cry like a fountain that’s stuck on the On switch. She sets down her coffee and bends over to hug me.
“I…I know it’s soon, but I also made an appointment with a counselor. Now hear me out before you start complaining.”
“Mom, I’ll go. I know I need help.” She exhales, relieved that there’s no fight.
I shut my phone off in the afternoon. Ty has been texting at least once an hour. And Carmen, too. Everyone’s worried. I guess I would be, too, if Ty just up and checked out of the hospital without so much as a goodbye. It’s best this way, though.
Sarah joins us for dinner. We talk about superficial stuff like who’s dating who and where everyone’s going to college next year. Mom tells us to sit on the back porch where she’ll bring out dessert. When we’re alone, Sarah gets more personal.
“That boy you were in the accident with?”
“Yes?” I ask.
“So, it wasn’t anything serious, was it?”
“What difference does it make to you?”
“Oh, Macy. It was serious. That’s why you came back home. You’re scared you’re the reason for the accident, aren’t you?” I don’t say anything.
“I don’t need an interrogation.”
“Sorry, but I’m just calling it like I see it.” Mom saves me when she brings out my favorite dessert, warm brownies topped with vanilla ice cream and whipped cream. Seeing the whipped cream makes me think of Ty.
“On second thought, I’m not so hungry. I think I’m going to bed. Thanks, though. See you, Sarah.” Mom and Sarah talk about me when I’m not in the room no doubt. I hope this was the right decision to come back home. All I want to do right now is sleep. Because when I’m asleep, I have it all. Dreams do that for you. Families are complete, relationships bloom, nothing bad happens. I wish I could live in my dreams forever.
Chapter 11:
Mom handles all the details involved in closing down my life as Mae Tatum. In order to get my GED, I want to have accurate records of the classes I have taken.
“Mrs. Baker is a lovely person,” she says when she gets off the phone.
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
“She had nothing but the nicest things to say about you. She said to tell you that everyone misses you very much.”
“That’s nice.”
“She especially wanted you to know that Ty is back in school and that he’s missing you the most.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Look, I’m in counseling, too, and one thing the therapist has taught me is to be honest with my feelings. I don’t deny them anymore. Whatever I am feeling—good, bad, ugly—I acknowledge it and move on. So I’m going to tell you that I am very worried about you. You’re all mixed up in your head, and you’re going to miss out on a real shot at happiness in life if you don’t learn to let go of your pain.” I get up to walk away. I can’t handle this right now, but she won’t stop. “Do you think I regret marrying your father?” I turn and look at her, surprised she would ask such a question.
“Of course not.”
“Or having you and Laura?”
“No.”
“Do you think I would have stayed single and never had children if I had known that your dad would die, followed by my daughter, and then your grandma?”
“I…don’t…”
“No, Macy. I would not have changed a single thing. And do you know why?” I shake my head. I’ve never seen my mom so passionate. “Because for twenty years, I lived the dream: marriage, family, dog, picket fence, the whole thing. I had the perfect life. And I have to hold on to those memories when life gets sucky, when my remaining daughter checks out on life and runs away from home. I have to hope against all hope that she’s not dying out there somewhere. I have to respect her wishes and not hire a private investigator to find her because I know that if I do she’ll never come home again. I live my life, Macy. I don’t hide from it. I pray to God every night that someday you’ll have that peace, too.”
“I’m going for a run,” I say.
“I think clearing you mind is a good thing. When you get back we’re going to clean out your old apartment.”
“I’m not going back.”
“Well, I’m not doing it alone.”
“Then leave it. I don’t care. I don’t want anything there.” Can’t she get it through her head that I’m done being Mae?
“Macy, it’s been two weeks since you’ve been home. You have to take care of your responsibilities now. You are coming with me. You owe me.” I grab my running shoes and lace them up quickly. It’s a wonder the laces don’t snap in half I’m so mad. I slam the door shut for added effect and start running from the moment my feet hit the sidewalk in front of our house.
I run for miles, not focusing on anything on my route, my vision blurred by tears that sting my eyes. I wish I had a destination. I wish I knew what I was supposed to do with my life. I think about Mom and the hell she’s been through. I think about what she said about her choices and how she didn’t regret anything when it came to love. I wish it was that easy. I want it to be. I miss Ty. I miss his quiet strength and his touch. I miss his smile and stupid jokes. He deserves better. He’s been through a lot in his life, too. He doesn’t need someone messed up like me. Everyone thinks I’m just being selfish. I’m not. If I was selfish, I’d have professed my true feelings for Ty and brought him down with me. He’s too good for me. I let him off the hook.