To Know Me (The Complete Series, Books 1-4)

by Marcy Blesy

  “You said you were curious.”

  “I am, but what’s that saying? ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’”

  “Then don’t have any expectations. Have a cup of coffee. Let her make her peace. Think of it as your kind deed for the day.” I feel bad that I’ve pressured Ty into this meeting, knowing how much it would mean to Patsy; but despite what he says, there’s a part of him that needs to confront his past, too.

  We walk into Infusco. There aren’t too many people there on a Saturday afternoon. Patsy is sitting in a booth in the back. She waves when she sees us.

  “Come on. I’ll introduce you.” We walk to the booth hand-in-hand. “Patsy, this is Ty.”

  “Hello. So nice to meet—I mean, see you—again.” I admire her restraint. I can tell she’s really trying not to fling her arms around his neck. Instead she sticks out her hand. He shakes it.

  “Hello, Patsy.”

  “Oh,” she says. I don’t blame him for not calling her Mom. “You are so big,” she whispers. Ty laughs.

  “Yeah, I guess I’ve changed a bit in the last ten years,” he says.

  “And handsome, too.” I have never seen Ty blush until this moment. The awkward silence that passes at the table is broken by the waitress who takes our order.

  “Three cups of your espresso, please,” I say. More silence. Patsy starts to fidget like she’s still feeling the effects of drug withdrawal. She’s dressed in a clean flowered shirt and white skirt, though. Her hair is freshly washed, and an appropriate amount of makeup conceals the scars on her face.

  The coffee arrives. Everyone drinks in silence. Finally, Patsy asks what she’s wanted to know all these years, from Ty’s own mouth.

  “Are you happy?” she asks him.

  “Very,” he says.

  “Good.”

  “Are you happy?” Ty asks Patsy.

  “I am now.”

  “Good.”

  “Tyson, I…I…I’m sorry.” Ty jerks up his head at the sound of his given name. “I’m sorry I did that to your daddy, but he was…he was hurting me, and that night he came at you for the first time, too. I went crazy. I thought for sure he was going to kill both of us.”

  “I’m sure you did what you felt was right, Patsy,” says Ty.

  “I don’t want you to hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you. I don’t remember much at all, but I do remember you taking me to the park to run with you at the trails. Do you remember that?” Patsy smiles. So do I. Ty never shared this memory with me.

  “Yes. You were so fast. At six, you’d be yards ahead of me at my full sprint.” The look in Ty’s eyes tells me he’s imagining himself as that young boy again.

  “I’m still fast.”

  “He just won the state track meet in the 800 meters,” I say proudly.

  “I always knew you were special.” Ty doesn’t say anything, but I hope he finds some peace in knowing how much Patsy loves him. “I have to be to work in a bit, so I’d better get going,” says Patsy. “It’s not much money, but it’s a start.”

  “Yeah, we need to get going, too,” says Ty. We get up from the table. Ty lays ten dollars down to cover our coffees. When we are outside the restaurant, Ty offers to take Patsy to her job rather than have her wait for the bus. She declines, but the offer alone unleashes the largest smile I have ever seen from Patsy. What a nice feature to inherit from a parent.

  “I’ll be in touch, Patsy,” says Ty before we get into the car to leave.

  “That would be lovely.” I hug Patsy goodbye knowing Ty’s not yet ready to and feeling that she needs physical touch badly.

  “You did great,” I whisper into Patsy’s ear. “Good luck.”

  I watch Patsy through the rear-view mirror in Ty’s car as she walks to the bus stop on the corner. I hope she defies the odds. Statistics say that she’ll relapse, but maybe meeting her son will give her the hope and clarity she’s been missing.

  “You okay?” I ask Ty after five minutes of silence in the car.

  “Just thinking.”

  “A lot to process.”

  “Uh-huh.” We sit in silence again until he puts his hand on my knee. “It’s your turn now, Mae.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve shared a pretty intense personal moment with you. There isn’t anyone I would have rather shared that moment with than you. You know how much I care about you. Now I need to know how much you care about me.”

  “Ty, you know I care about you.”

  “We’re graduating soon.”

  “Yeah, I’m aware of that.”

  “I got a letter a few weeks ago.”

  “From?”

  “From the University of Michigan.”

  “Oh.” My heart sinks. I know what that means. Ty’s going away.

  “But I thought you were going to run track at the community college in Woodson. They offered you a scholarship.”

  “I don’t want to run in college. I’ve thought a lot about it, and that’s not the focus I want. U of M has a great social work program. I’ve thought a lot about this, Mae. Everything feels right about this decision except for…except for you being here at community college and me being six hours away.” I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. For the first time in years, I’ve opened myself up to someone, and all that comes from it is more pain. If I had been able to stay in one school and build up a good high school record with extracurriculars and clubs and volunteer work and important stuff like that, maybe I could have gotten into U of M, too, and followed Ty. But I didn’t. I don’t do anything the right way.

  “Are you saying you don’t want to see me anymore?” It comes out more like a whisper because saying the words aloud is painful.

  “No, Mae. Is that really what you think I’m trying to say?” He swerves in the road to avoid a pothole. I see the stress on his brow, the little wrinkle lines flaring up between his eyes. “I have no doubt we can make this work long distance, but I need you to show me you’re willing to be completely open with me. I don’t want you to be afraid anymore. It won’t work if you keep living in fear.”

  “What do you need from me? You know the truth.”

  “Tell me everything. Tell me about your dad. Tell me about your sister. And your grandma. I need to know you trust me.”

  “But you know everything already,” I say. “Carmen told you.”

  “Exactly. Carmen told me some things from a conversation you had with her, but you’ve been very guarded with the little you’ve told me yourself. I want you to trust me with your secrets, too. I’ve shared everything with you. I need you to do the same, or, no, Mae, I don’t think we can date long distance. What would be the point? Call me a wuss. I know most guys don’t think like me, but when you’ve been through the crap I’ve been through, feelings and emotions mean something. And the ability to trust is right up there near the top of the list.”

  “Come to the cemetery with me.” I speak the words before thinking, but I know it’s the right thing to do, the only thing I can do. For it is at the cemetery that my hearts hangs open like a freshly cut wound, bleeding for all the world to see.

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “It is.” I mean it, too. I have an overriding need to be real with Ty. No more lies. No more pretense. Just Macy Tatum and all her complicated mess.

  “I’ll follow your car when we get back to my house. Then we can go out for dinner before I come back home. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah, that will be fine.” I put my hand on his arm. “And thanks.”

  “You’re most welcome.”

  Ty parks in the driveway next to my car. He pulls me in for a hug. He finds my lips. I don’t want to stop. I’m scared, so scared I don’t want to run away from my feelings but run to them. “I’m falling in love, Ty.”

  “Me, too.” He kisses the top of my head, wipes away the tears that have spotted my cheeks, and squeezes my hand for a measure of strength. “Drive carefully.”

  It’s late
afternoon when we pull into the cemetery. I called Mom on the way to tell her what Ty and I are doing. She said she was proud of me, but I’m not sure why. I haven’t done anything spectacular, and most moms would think going on a date at a cemetery was disturbing. In our world, though, it’s normal. How oddly ironic that reality is. I park near the tree I hid behind when I spied on Mom. That seems like so long ago. I’ve had a lot of time to think on the hour trip to the cemetery from Woodson. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say or what Ty needs me to tell him, but I suppose being honest for a change would be the best gift.

  “So here we are,” I say when we get out of the car. I point to the headstones of my dad, Laura, and Grandma. It is the first time I’ve been here that I don’t cry or feel like hurling myself across their graves. It’s an odd but nice realization. I pull the blanket from our picnic out of my trunk and lay it out under the willow tree. It’s almost June and a perfect 75 degree day. Ty sits down, leaning against the tree. I lean against him. For a few minutes neither of us talks, the wind between the trees whistling overhead. When I do start talking, no details are spared. Every secret I kept guarded comes spilling out, but not in some slobbery “oh, my gosh, and then this horrible thing happened next” kind of way. Just the facts. The complicated, yet simple truth.

  During my confessions, Ty listens, hugging me closer at the right time or stroking my hair, and I realize something. I’m going to be okay. I still miss my family like crazy, but I don’t feel guilty anymore. I will forever be aware that my decisions will have consequences, but I’m not the only one making decisions. Everyone in life is making decisions at the same time, crossing paths. Sometimes I make the wrong decision, like to have sex with Kyle. Yes, that decision caused Dad and Mom to fight a lot, but Dad didn’t have to move out. He made that choice. And what about his falling? Sometimes one missed step is the difference between life and death. And Laura should have been allowed to ride her bike to get a Slushie on her own. I’d been doing it since I was ten. Someone else chose to take their eyes off the road which caused him to hit my sister. Not me. And Grandma? She had a heart attack, not from sadness, but from years of eating fried food and not exercising enough. Yes, sometimes my decisions do directly cause pain, like my deciding to run away from home or checking out of the hospital without telling Ty. But sometimes life spins out of my own control, and there is nothing I can do about it. Letting go of guilt is the most amazing feeling in the world, right up there with love.

  I turn around to look at Ty. He smirks and shakes his head.

  “Why the look?” I ask.

  “I can’t believe we ended up together.”

  “Well, that’s sure a nice thing to say.”

  “I mean, think about it. Do you know anyone else with such messed up childhoods as us?”

  “Uh, not directly. What are you trying to say?” I ask.

  “I’m saying that we’re going to make it Macy/Mae Tatum. No matter where we go when we graduate, it doesn’t matter. No one else could ever possibly understand us like each other.”

  “You’re probably right, deep thinker,” I laugh, hugging my knees to my chin.

  “Plus, we’re hot together.”

  “Whatever!” I say rolling my eyes and smacking him on the arm.

  “You ready for dinner?” Ty asks standing up from the ground.

  “Yeah, sure. Follow me. There’s a great Thai restaurant in town. Just give me a minute, okay?” I ask.

  “Take your time.” He kisses me on the cheek before getting into his car.

  I pause at the headstones of each of the people that played a role in defining me. I know they are still with me. Even more, I know they are rooting for me. To know me is risky because I’m complicated. But, with love, anything is possible.

  Thank you for reading To Know Me, the first book in the To Know Me Series. Please consider leaving a review at Amazon or Goodreads. http://amzn.to/1mTsowp

  To Love Me

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter 1:

  Chapter 2:

  Chapter 3:

  Chapter 4:

  Chapter 5:

  Chapter 6:

  Chapter 7:

  Chapter 8:

  Chapter 9:

  Chapter 10:

  Chapter 11:

  Chapter 12:

  Chapter 13:

  Chapter 14:

  Chapter 15:

  Chapter 16:

  Chapter 17:

  Chapter 18:

  Chapter 1:

  To love me is complicated, I mean, to really love me, like the kind of love that leaves you rewinding the whole night in your mind because you don’t want to forget a minute of it, or the kind of love that sends shivers of excitement up and down your arm when you know he’s standing on the other side of the door waiting for you. For you. That’s how I feel about Ty, but I’m not so sure it’s easy for him to love me in return. After I took him to the cemetery where my dad and sister and grandma are buried and told him all my bottled up feelings, I thought things would get better. No more secrets.

  I’m in counseling to learn to deal with my insecurities. Mom’s supporting my relationship with Ty, and I’ve been taking classes at Andersonville Community College. Life is good, right? It should be easy. Easy to embrace life. Easy to accept love. The trouble is, nothing is ever easy for me. That, and Ty is six hours away.

  Lately every conversation over FaceTime ends like this.

  Me: “Well, I’d better go.”

  Ty: “Why do you always look so sad?”

  Me: “Because I am sad.”

  Ty: “What did I do now, Mae?”

  Me: “Nothing.”

  Ty: “Come on. I don’t have time for this. What’s wrong?”

  Me: “You’re too far away.”

  Ty: “I’m coming home this weekend. We’ll spend tons of time together. Can’t you focus on the positive?”

  Me: “But your parents are having that stupid party. I don’t want to go to a party. I want to be alone with you.”

  Ty: “We’ve gone over this a hundred times, Mae. I have to go to this party. Mom’s worked really hard raising support for that new shelter for women and children. This is going to be the biggest fundraiser yet. I figured after meeting Patsy and seeing those women in the halfway house and hearing some of the stories, you, of all people, could have some compassion.”

  Me: “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Ty: “You know what I mean. Wow, Mae. You are so difficult lately. It’s just that when you come from tough times in your own life you’re supposed to be more understanding of others going through tough times.”

  Me: “I am. I don’t want to share you with all those people rubbing elbows with their rich neighbors pretending to take pity upon on the plight of women and domestic violence.”

  Ty: “Are you saying that my mom is pretending?”

  Me: “Don’t yell. You’re yelling again.”

  Ty: “Look, I’m done, Mae. I have studying to do.”

  Me: “You’re done? You’re breaking up with me?”

  Ty: “I hate it when you do this. You know that’s not what I mean. I mean I’m done with this conversation. I’m coming home on Saturday to support my mom’s fundraiser. I’d love to have my beautiful girlfriend there with me. Good night.”

  And that was that: me reading into everything he said and him getting pissed at everything I said. A vicious circle.

  My counselor says I have anxiety letting anyone get too close for fear of something bad happening. It’s the proverbial waiting for the other shoe to drop syndrome. It’s nothing that I haven’t been living with for years. It was okay over the summer. Ty and I had a great summer, actually. He’d drive out here on the weekends. I’d head back to Woodson at least once during the week. Between his job teaching swimming lessons at the YMCA and my job waiting tables at Stewart’s Steakhouse in Andersonville and the hour drive, it wasn’t easy, but we made it work. We’d go to movies or out to dinner or do absolutely n
othing, laying out on Sarah’s dad’s boat as she and her new boyfriend Tim sailed around Lake Michigan. But when Ty when to school, things changed. We both got busy with school, me pursuing a degree in English, and Ty a degree in social work at the University of Michigan. And I am still living at home. I’m not complaining, though. Things with Mom have been good. She seems happy to have me around. But Ty’s experiencing new places and new people, and he’s so far away. I can’t fix that. That’s why I’m planning to transfer to University of Michigan if my grades are good enough to get in.

  But if I can’t get over this distance/other shoe dropping thing, how can I expect him to want to stay with me? It really is hard to imagine a world in which I exist where everything is tied up beautifully with pretty little bows and ribbons that curl and paper that shines. Instead, I feel like the wrappings of a five-year-old, with mismatched corners, paper too long on one side and too short on the other, and extra layers of tape that make opening the package too difficult and not worth the effort. To most, I must look like a pitiful, insecure girl, ungrateful for second chances and unwilling to see a blessing even when it nearly blinds me with its richness. To me, I can be nothing but what I am. If that means calling me insecure and fearful and weak, then so be it. I am what I am. That’s doesn’t mean there’s not room for change and improvement, though.

  “Macy, time for dinner!” I hear Mom yelling from the kitchen. I’m not even sure how long I’ve been in my bedroom, but it seems like I just ate lunch. I wish I had more to show for my efforts than half a page of words on the computer screen. That’s hardly the minimum quota for a college English Lit essay.

  “Coming!” I click save, kick off my jeans, and throw on a pair of fleece Cookie Monster pajama pants. Ty gave them to me for my birthday. He remembered the story about how much my dad and I liked to watch Sesame Street when I was little. I liked Elmo best of all, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him.

  “Get your paper done?” asks Mom when I plop down at the table.

  “Uh, not yet, but I’m getting there,” I say.

  “Not even through the first page, huh?”