by Thomas Babak
Sandy headed to the kitchen instead. He hadn’t eaten lunch or dinner and was hungry. He realized after standing in front of the refrigerator for over a minute that he had been thinking about Tasha and wondering why she was here. Why does she want to stay over? he asked himself in confusion. Not that he minded at all. He wanted to see and talk to her so badly.
There was nothing in the fridge that he wanted, so he closed it and made his way out to the living room couch. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. He shut it off again. He reached out and picked up his soda. He took a sip and put it down. He realized he was fidgeting and tried to relax.
About fifteen minutes later, Tasha came back down the stairs. A towel was wrapped around her head. She was wearing some sort of silk or satin shorts and a T-shirt. She sat on the couch next to Sandy and brought her feet up, wrapping her arms around her legs and leaning her head on her knees.
“What do you want to do?” she asked.
“I’m hungry. You hungry? Sandy asked.
“Yes! Order a pizza or something,” Tasha exclaimed as if Sandy had just had the best idea ever.
Sandy stood up and walked back to the kitchen and picked a local pizza parlor magnet off the fridge. He carried it over to the kitchen wall phone.
“Get a pepperoni, please?” Tasha called from the living room.
Sandy ordered a pizza and hung up the phone. Back on the couch with Tasha, he tried to relax but couldn’t. His curiosity was killing him.
“Tasha…what’s going on?” he asked.
The smile that had been peeking out now and then on her face disappeared.
“I broke up with Nick,” she said simply.
Sandy waited, not saying anything. Excitement raced through him though at the news.
“He was being such a… jerk. After what he did today, I’m done and I told him that,” she continued.
Sandy felt elated but tried not to show it and failed.
Tasha looked at Sandy’s expression and smiled. The smile disappeared as she continued.
“I came home and Mom and Justin were fighting. It only got worse and they tried to drag me into it, so I packed and left” she said as she reached for her soda and took a sip before continuing.
“I texted my friends, but no one responded. I ended up sitting on your steps,” she finished with a sad smile.
Sandy didn’t care that he’d been her last choice after her friends. She was here with him now. He asked, “Who’s Justin?”
“Mom’s boyfriend,” Tasha answered in a matter-of-fact tone.
Sandy felt relief that Justin was her mom's boyfriend. He had thought that maybe Tasha had picked up a boyfriend he didn’t know about. No, that’s crazy, Sandy thought to himself, reeling in the stray thought. He should have been able to figure that out himself but was still stunned about her news. Not that it matters, anyway. She is so out of my league. Maybe all we can ever be is friends, Sandy thought sadly.
They talked a little while about school. Well, Tasha mostly talked. Sandy was too entranced with having Tasha actually there again and sitting on his couch to even think about interrupting her. When the pizza came, Sandy paid and they sat on the couch with the pizza between them, eating over the box. Tasha ranted about Justin for a little while but soon ran down, her anger vented.
Sandy threw his napkin into the empty pizza box and snatched Tasha’s out of her hand, making her laugh, and threw hers into the box as well. He got up and carried it to the kitchen and Tasha followed him.
It was late by now. Though the night was chilly, it wasn’t bitter cold as it had been just a month before. “Want to go sit on the back porch for a little while?” Sandy asked.
“Sure," Tasha said after a moment of hesitation.
Sandy grabbed a jacket hanging next to the kitchen back door and handed it to her. He opened the door for her and waited as she put it on while walking outside.
The night sky was clear and the moon was out but hung below the trees which surrounded the backyard. The trees also blocked out the view to quite a few stars as well. The moon and trees casting shadows across most of the yard.
Sandy closed the door gently behind him as Tasha walked over and sat on the old metal and wood porch glider. He followed and sat next to her on the two-person bench seat, causing the glider to rock back and forth.
Tasha slid up close to Sandy. She lifted her legs up planting her feet on the bench and pulled the T-shirt over her bare legs to keep the warm. The jacket, much too large for her, made her look smaller and more vulnerable. She wrapped it more tightly around her.
Sandy sat with his hands clasped on his lap, his feet flat on the peeling paint of the porch’s wood floor. He rocked the glider gently while Tasha looked out over the backyard and up at the few stars peeking out from behind the trees. Sandy stared out over the backyard without seeing it.
“Tasha?” Sandy asked gently.
“Yes?” she answered just as gently.
“Why did you stop talking to me?” he asked.
“I am talking to you,” she responded with a tinge of exasperation, but also some confusion.
“You know what I mean,” Sandy said quietly.
Tasha remained silent.
Sandy continued, “We were best friends and then before ninth grade began, you completely ignored me. I’d go over to your house and your mom would say you weren’t home when I knew you were.”
He looked over at Tasha. She had tucked her chin behind her knees but otherwise just stared out at the yard.
He continued. “We were best friends and spent every day together and then you just cut me off…”
Tasha interjected, “We were kids then,” but they both recognized the lame excuse for what it was.
She started over again, “The summer before school started, you got all quiet and scared-looking and needy. I was scared too. My dad left after some massive fighting with my mom. My mom said she needed me. I didn’t quite understand what was going on and I was scared,” she repeated again.
“I needed you” Sandy said in an almost-whisper.
“Sorry,” was all Tasha responded, her tone remorseful.
Sandy sat there for almost a minute, surprised at her response and not knowing how to respond. Maybe a lot of why they had stopped talking was his fault. Tasha's parents were breaking up at the time. He’d been terrified about what had just happened with his dad and it probably showed. Thirteen-year-old Tasha had too many problems of her own at the time. Sandy sighed. It was just as much his fault, if not more, that they had stopped talking to each other back then. He had been scared and it had probably shown when she saw him. That had probably scared her just as much as her dad leaving. He was just as guilty. He had scared her off.
“My dad isn’t coming back,” he blurted out quietly.
“What? What do you mean?” Tasha asked curiously.
“My dad left that summer before ninth grade and hasn’t been back since,” Sandy blurted out quickly.
“WHAT?” Tasha exclaimed, lifting her head straight up and looking directly at Sandy, her legs sliding out from under her shirt, her feet slamming onto the wood floor of the porch stopping the gently rocking of the glider.
Sandy looked away back over the yard, relieved to be giving up the secret he’d held for years finally. Sharing the burden helped lift the weight of the secret a little from his mind.
He said more even more quietly, “He left. I got up one morning and he wasn’t there. I didn’t think anything about it until it got late. I figured he was just somewhere doing something or getting drunk. He’d done it before. The next day he still wasn’t home. His boss called and asked where he was. I told him he was sick. He called again a couple days later, but I didn’t answer the phone. They never called again.”
“Why didn’t you call the cops or something?” Tasha asked. Her eyes were wide and her face showed the beginnings of shock.
“You remember my dad,” Sandy answered as if this was answer enough. Even still, Sa
ndy elaborated.
“He was drunk all the time. I figured he was just… somewhere… drunk. So I waited a few days. A few days became a few weeks,” Sandy continued.
“I thought about calling the police. I was thirteen. I didn’t know any better so I didn’t. I didn’t know what to do. Then I thought about what would happen. I don’t have any relatives that I know of. What would happen to me? An orphanage? Some sort of state home? I was scared.” Sandy looked over at Tasha and said emphatically, “You can’t tell anyone! I’m only 16 though I’ll be 17 soon. I’m still not an adult. They could still take me away somewhere. Promise me you won’t tell anyone?” he asked very seriously.
“I won’t, I won’t,” Tasha answered just as emphatically.
“What about… How did you… ?” Tasha left her questions unfinished.
Sandy, intuitively knowing what she was trying to ask, answered. “My Grandma left some money. My dad just cared about drinking. The checkbook was in the kitchen. The house is paid for, so all I had to do was worry about taxes and bills. I’m pretty careful about what I spend, and the job I have pays pretty well” Sandy answered.
“Wow,” Tasha said, her face revealing wonder. She didn’t know what else to say as she absorbed the secret Sandy had told her. Her own dad had left, too, but she knew where he was and saw him on occasion. She still had her mom. As bad as her mom was, she was still there.
“Sandy, I am so sorry your dad left. That you were alone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I didn’t know. I’m sorry” she repeated tears forming in her eyes.
“Tasha, it’s okay now. I’m surviving. In a little over a year, I will turn 18. It won’t matter after that,” Sandy said. He stopped talking. He sat there quietly, occasionally looking over at Tasha. He really was okay now. He’d learned to survive and had been lucky. He’d continue to be okay. As long as she kept his secret.
She sat there lost in thought, time passing until she noticed Sandy looking at her. She smiled at him and said “Can we go inside? I’m getting cold and tired.”
“Let’s go to bed,” he said and then blushed unnoticed in the dark about the different implications of his words.
Tasha laughed at the words too.
Sandy finally settled down in his bed, a sense of relief of finally sharing his secret relaxing him more than expected. He’d shown Tasha to his grandma’s room. They had both settled down after using the bathroom separately and saying goodnight. Sandy had only read a page or two of his book before putting it down and shutting his light. He lay there now looking at the ceiling and thinking about the evening he had shared with Tasha. He’d finally shared the big secret with someone and felt so much better about it.
“Sandy?” Tasha called from down the hallway.
Sandy stopped and listened. He wasn’t quite sure if he’d actually heard her call out or had imagined it.
“Sandy,” Tasha repeated a little more loudly.
Sandy got up and opened his door. He walked down the hallway to Grandma’s room. The door was already open, shadows from the moon peeking through the window and falling over the bed.
Tasha was sitting up in bed with her over-large T-shirt she used to sleep in hanging about her.
“Will you sleep with me? I don’t want to be alone. It’s sort of creepy,” he asked plaintively, her words growing quieter as she spoke.
Sandy just stood there in his T-shirt, sweats and bare feet, saying nothing. What she’d just asked was a little too overwhelming to process.
Tasha scooted over to one side of Grandma’s bed and moved the covers back and said “Please” plaintively.
Sandy walked over and calmly got into bed. He pulled the covers over himself and laid there, flat on his back. A feeling of strangeness and excitement came over him as he lay in a different bed than his own, but even more so that Tasha was laying there next to him.
“Now don’t get any ideas,” Tasha said teasingly.
Sandy turned red for the second time that evening, unnoticed in the darkness, and flipped over on his side, his back to Tasha. She soon fell asleep and Sandy’s mind raced. He thought about the times they had slept next to each other as kids when they had sleepovers. This was so different, as he felt her warmth next to him. The thoughts of the his renewed friendship with Tasha, that he’d shared one of his two big secrets with, and lying in bed with her now, were leaping through his mind. Bubble Tech and his earlier rescue of the two boys never even crossed his thoughts.
“Sandy?” her quiet voice whispered from behind him. She hadn’t actually been asleep.
“Yes?” Sandy answered just as quietly.
“I really am sorry that your dad left and you’ve been here on your own,” she said.
Sandy lay there, not responding. He didn't know what to say. He felt like crying, even though he never had in the early days after his dad left.
“And I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you and that I was a bad friend,” she said, her hand reaching out and touching his arm.
“Thanks, Tasha,” was all that he said, emotion roughening his words. They both didn’t say anything after that. He still didn’t know what to say. Soon after, he heard her breathing getting deeper as she fell asleep.
He wondered what school would be like next week. Would Tasha really grow back into being his best friend again? She had her own problems. At least Nick was out of the picture now. He briefly smiled at that thought. Would she become more than a friend?
He didn’t think he would ever fall asleep as he lay there thinking, but it snuck up on him eventually.
Thirteen
Director Kate Phillips sat at her desk drinking a decaffeinated tea. She realized that as she grew older, that if she drank anything with caffeine after lunch she’d have a hard time falling asleep, so she had substituted alternatives instead. Over the years, there had been exceptions when ongoing investigations or direct actions against enemies of the state were at critical stages or events. It was after 7:00p.m. and most of her people had already gone home, but Travis had returned and would be here soon. He was supposed to send someone else, but he had gone himself after seeing the video Jenkins had shown him.
Her assistant took these long days in stride. Kate had been the best boss she’d ever had, and the overtime didn’t hurt either. She sat quietly at her desk browsing online catalogues for clothes and shoes until Travis walked in carrying a digi-cam backpack over one shoulder and trailing Jenkins, like a loyal dog, behind him.
Jenkins had a bad case of hero worship for Travis, which Travis continued to cultivate by telling war stories of his days in Special Ops and maintaining an air of dangerousness. It didn’t matter that he wasn't actually involved in many of the war stories he told: Travis's renditions transitioned him into the spotlight. He was also always armed, which fascinated Jenkins as he had an innate fear of guns. What Jenkins didn’t know was that Travis, though he had actually been a “Special Operator” with the military, had been quietly separated when a report of him stabbing a dead insurgent repeatedly with a knife surfaced. When confronted during informal proceedings, his only defense had been that the insurgent was already dead and that he was only getting a “feel” for what it was like to stab someone in case he had to in the future. News of the incident had gone no further, so it was quietly buried and Travis was asked to resign. With no black marks on his record he was able to get a federal job within the OCC and quickly became Kate’s go-to guy for field investigations. He got things done. Travis’s plans of transitioning from the military to a federal job for a couple years before getting the “big money” from a contractor job were long since abandoned. He was having just too much fun being a field operative for the OCC.
Travis was dressed in his usual attire, comprised of a black polo shirt, cargo/utility pants with a wide belt and Leatherman strapped to it and black nylon and leather HiTech combat boots. His jacket was an old, olive drab Combat Vehicle Crewman (CVC) jacket. He’d allowed his jet- black hair to grow longer tha
n during his military days and he sported a “soul patch” chin beard. Jenkins had tried to grow one too, but couldn’t, so gave up. He never tried to emulate Travis’s clothes. That would have been just too weird. Plus, he hadn’t found a CVC jacket on eBay that would fit him yet.
Travis and Jenkins walked into her office and her assistant closed the door after them. After a moment, Travis swung his backpack down off his shoulder, putting it on the floor and taking a seat in front of Kate’s desk. After a moment’s hesitation, Jenkins sat down too.
“Well?” Kate said by way of greeting. She had long since learned that with Travis you had to demonstrate dominance for him to respect you— and for him to get to the point.
Travis answered by smiling and pulling an electronic tablet from one of the backpack’s compartments. He opened it to the photo app and slid it across the desk to Kate.
She picked it up and started looking at pictures. They were all of the dump truck.
Travis began his briefing with, “There wasn’t much to see. I talked to all the officers involved and the news crew as well. I was careful and my credentials held up.” Travis had used credentials as a Hazardous Materials investigator. “No one noticed anything. I examined the snow plow. I could see where the box had been pushed in. There were no scrapes or indentations. Weird,” he finished, raising his eyebrows and shrugging his shoulders.
“Show him,” Kate said as she twisted her monitor around and slid the mouse over to Jenkins, who leaned forward to take control.
Kate leaned back and watched Travis. Jenkins brought up video taken from the helicopter that had been searching for the missing boys. There was no sound besides rotor noise and the helicopter occupant’s expletive-laden comments.
Travis sat there for a few seconds and then leaned forward, surprise breaking out on his face. His eyes widened as he watched the scene unfold.
The video ended and Jenkins leaned back. Travis was still leaning forward and shifted his eyes to Kate.
“What in the hell was that?” he asked.