God, I want to fucking kill him. I push my phone into my chest so Tatum doesn’t hear the crack in the drywall as I pound my fist through it. When I bring the phone back to my ear she’s saying, “Brandon? Are you there?”
“Yeah, Tatum, I’m here,” I tell her.
I spend the next hour on the phone, somehow throwing in an excuse that Nash must have just bailed thanks to his broken heart, but mostly talking about her first day in L.A. and all of our associated memories of that city that neither of us had ever been to until today.
When Tatum starts yawning and the noise from her roommates quiets down I tell her, “You should get some rest.”
“I should but I really just want to stay on the phone with you and pretend that that’s where I am – at home, with you.”
“I’m sorry California is a big damn disappointment.”
“Me too. But at least I know now… that I’m not missing out on anything.”
“Tomorrow will be better, Tate. Just hang in there and before you know it you’ll be on a plane coming home.”
She lets out a deep sigh. “I didn’t think I’d be saying this after day one, but I can’t wait to get home.”
“Good, I’ll let Nash know, I think he needs to hear that. But try to enjoy yourself while you’re there.”
“I swear to God, Brandon, I’m gonna try.”
“Call me tomorrow if you have a chance.”
“I will. Check on Nash for me. Tell him to call me and that I miss and love him.”
“Will do,” I tell her, hitting the end button on my phone and practically breaking the sliding glass door as I head back into Jolee’s house. “Nash,” I holler as soon as I see him on the couch, a girl on either side of him. “Get the hell up,” I tell him.
“I’m pretty happy right where I am,” he slurs.
I grab a hold of his arm and drag him up. He doesn’t resist me, I guess because he’s too damn drunk. I drag him out the front door and push him down the steps and out to the grass. He trips and falls down, laughing hysterically.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I yell at him, leaning down so I can get his shirt in my fists.
“What’s your problem?” he asks, trying to push me off him, but I’m not letting go.
“My problem, jackass, is that I just spent the last hour on the phone with your girlfriend pretending like I had lost track of you at this party because I didn’t want her to know you were fucking Jolee.”
“I didn’t touch Jolee.”
“Don’t lie to me you asshole. I saw you. I’m guessing half of the people at this party saw you. Tatum left this morning. You couldn’t stay faithful to her for one damn day?”
“It don’t matter how long she’s been gone. She’s not coming back.” He pushes me off again and this time I let go.
“She is coming back. She was always planning on coming back and if you would have picked up your damn phone when she called she would have told you that L.A. is not living up to her expectations and all she wants to do is come home to you.”
He stares at me, his stupid face all crunched up with confusion. “Shit,” he eventually says, burring his face in his hands. “I didn’t even look at my phone today. I didn’t think she’d call. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from her again.”
“Jesus, your dad and your brother have got you brainwashed. She is not your mom, Nash. She’s coming home.”
“What did I do?” he asks, looking up at me with hurt and fear in his eyes.
“You fucked up. Hugely. You’re gonna have to tell her, man. She’s gonna find out.”
“I can’t tell her. She’ll end it with me. It took me three years to convince her to give me another shot after she caught me kissing a girl under the bleachers. If she finds out about this I’m never gonna get her back.”
“Probably not,” I agree. “I mean… Jolee? I hope she was worth it because you just lost the best thing that ever happened to you.” I stand and look at him. “She told me to let you know she misses you and she loves you,” I mutter under my breath, the words pissing me off.
Before I can leave he’s on his feet, his hands grabbing onto my sweatshirt. “I can’t lose her, Brandon. I swear to God it will kill me.”
“You already lost her, Nash. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Please, man, you can’t tell her.”
“So you’re asking me to cover for your lying, cheating ass? You’re asking me to lie to Tatum?”
“You don’t have to lie to her. Just don’t say anything. I’m begging you. I didn’t think she was coming home. I was being stupid. I love her. If she leaves me…”
“Jesus Nash, get your shit together. I can’t even look at you right now, you know that? What you did is fucking disgusting and she deserves better than that. I’ll keep my damn mouth shut but seriously, just stay away from me for a while.”
“It was a mistake. It didn’t mean anything. You know that. You’re my best friend, can you just give me a fucking break?”
“I am giving you a break. I’m not gonna tell her but every time I have to watch her hanging on you, looking at you like you are the best guy in the world, I’m gonna want to punch you in your face. Just keep your distance.” I tear his hands off me and head back into the house.
I’m done with him. I’m so fucking done with that kid.
20
I crawl on top of my bed, taking my first real breath of the day because I’m finally alone. Ever since Saturday night I feel like I’m pretending when I’m around anyone. I hate keeping Nash’s secret. I hate that what he did to Tatum is festering inside of me. I hate that everyone, even Summer, looks at him like he’s good. Hell, they even feel sorry for him because he’s been acting sad. Like he can’t live without Tatum. It’s pathetic. And it’s a lie.
I pick up my phone and look at the time: 10:48. Tatum should be calling any minute. She’s been gone for four days and I miss her. But I like talking to her on the phone. It’s been a long time since we’ve done that… but now I get it every night.
Part of me wishes she would just stay gone. That I could keep her away from Nash and keep our nightly conversations for myself. It sucks having to listen to her talk about him. I don’t bring him up, she rarely does either, but I know they’re talking every day now. Just like we are.
My phone rings and I take a moment to clear my head before answering it. “Hey, you,” I say quietly.
“Hey, you,” she says back, just as quietly. We seem to have reverted back to our childhood in some ways. This is how we always greeted each other when we were kids.
“You sound exhausted,” I tell her.
“I am. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired. Everything about what I’m doing right now is draining.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Nope. Not even for a second. How are you? What’s going on at home?”
“Since yesterday?”
“Yeah, since yesterday,” she laughs.
“I can’t think of one damn thing to tell you.”
“How’s Summer?”
“Perky,” I tell her with a smile.
She laughs. “That’s weird.”
“Completely strange.”
“How about your family? Are things still going okay?”
I let out a long breath. Honestly, I haven’t spent a lot of time worrying about my family. Tatum seems to be taking up all the space in my head. “Yeah, it’s all good. For now.”
“I don’t know how I feel about you being back there,” she tells me, her voice strained.
“You think I can’t handle it?” I ask.
“Maybe not. I wish I were home with you.”
“Oh, yeah? Would you come rescue me if I needed it? Put Roger in his place?” I laugh.
“Yeah, I would. Just like you always did for me.”
I close my eyes and put my hand over them. I hate this. I hate that I know I should still be protecting her. That she needs my protection now,
probably more, than she ever did. Because now she’s not just witnessing someone being treated like shit by a man, she is the one being treated like shit by a man, and she doesn’t even know it.
“Brandon?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, sounding angrier than I want to.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She’s silent for a few moments. “I know when you’re lying. What did he do to you?”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “Roger hasn’t done anything.”
“What then? I know it’s something.”
I suck in a hard breath. “Maybe I just don’t like thinking about how things were for you growing up. And maybe I’m feeling like an asshole because I didn’t stick around.”
“Well don’t,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her words. “I needed to figure out how to take care of myself. I was too dependent on you.”
Those words crush me. She did depend on me and I was always there for her. I did everything for her and that was everything to me. I lived to make sure she had everything she needed and wanted. I wish I could still do that for her. “Who do you depend on now?”
She laughs. “What?”
“When you need something, whose help do you ask for?”
She’s quiet for a while. “I don’t ask for help anymore.”
I grit my teeth and shake my head. “You can ask me.”
She lets out a sad laugh. “Thanks, but I don’t need it anymore.”
Ask me. Ask me to make you happy. Ask me to protect you from the assholes in your life. Just fucking ask me. “You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” she says without hesitation. Because she can’t even see the thing she needs to be protected from.
She’s not gonna ask me and I guess it’s no longer my place to rescue her. It kills me because she’s so damn tough in every other area of her life. And if you asked her she’d probably claim she never has, and never will, take any shit from Nash. But really that’s all she’s been doing. I wish she could see that. I wish I didn’t have to point it out to her. I wish she’d just leave on her own. “You think I always rescued you, but really I didn’t. You were always capable.”
“So what, you were just my security blanket?”
“Maybe. You were definitely mine.”
She’s quiet. I’m quiet. I’m waiting for her. I want us back. Who we were, but I’m waiting for her.
“Remember that time we ran away?” she finally asks.
“Which one?”
She laughs. “The one time we actually got more than a mile away from home.”
I sigh. I can’t help it. “Of course I do.”
“I really thought we were going to get out that time,” she says, her voice trailing off.
I try not to think about that day. It sucks thinking about that day. I can’t stop thinking about that day.
“You’re so crazy, I can’t believe you just did that,” she tells me after the hippie guy comes over to the bench we’re sitting on and hands us the bus tickets I gave him money for. Hey little dude, I wish someone would have done the same thing for me and my girl when I was your age. That’s what the guy told me. I may not be book smart but I have enough common sense to know that two twelve-year-olds getting on a bus to nowhere is not a good idea. That’s exactly what Tate and I are doing though.
“I told you I’d get you out of there.”
She hooks her arm through mine and lays her head on my shoulder. I know this means she loves me. She’s not affectionate with anyone – not even her family. She’s only like this with me and that’s the way it’s always been. Because Tatum loves me more than she loves anyone and I definitely feel the same way about her.
“Are you scared?” she says, quietly. That’s another thing she only does with me – shows fear.
“No,” I tell her without hesitation. “You’re safer out here than you are in that house with that asshole,” I mutter. My body tenses at the thought of what happened last night. Thank God I was there. Thank God her mom and Stu stayed out until the middle of the night and Tatum needed me. I was passed out on top of her comforter when her foot, kicking me in the ribs, woke me up. Stu had one hand on her mouth and the other pinning her shoulder down as he climbed on top of her. I immediately screamed and kicked him in his liver. He was so shocked that I was there, he got off of her and Trish came running into the room. Tatum and I both told her what happened but she didn’t make him go. She probably didn’t believe us.
So this morning we left. We packed a couple of bags and started walking. We do this a lot, like two weeks ago when my mom and dad announced that we are moving away from Tatum. Even that time, after I got the worst news of my entire life, we only made it three miles. We agreed, while we walked and talked, that I wouldn’t move across town with my family. I’ll just stay with Tatum. We were tired and hungry and we had a solution, so we turned around. That’s what usually happens. But we don’t have a solution for Stu. So this time we walked to the edge of Centennial County where the bus station sits.
“Where do you think we’ll end up?” she asks, her voice happier now.
“I don’t know. Where do you want to end up?”
“On the other side of the continent. I want to go to the Pacific Ocean. I want to lay in the sand and go swimming in the waves with you. We could learn how to surf.”
“We’ll just keep heading west then.”
She sighs and turns her head so she’s looking up at me with her big blue eyes. “You know this is never gonna work, right?”
I smile at her and run my fingers over her long, blonde hair. “You and I can make anything work. We always figure it out.”
She smiles too. “We can be beach bums. We’ll make a fort out of palm tree leaves and collect coconuts to use as dishes. And there will be a beach bar that makes the best fries and burgers and we’ll get really good at sneaking the uneaten food away before the bus boy takes it. And, ooh, maybe we’ll find a stray dog who’s wandering just like us and we’ll take him in. I’ve always wanted a dog. What do you think we should name him?”
I laugh. Tatum always makes things okay… exciting even. She’s always got the best ideas and stories and most of the time she manages to make them come true for us. “Benji?”
“Benji? No way. Our dog isn’t going to have some boring movie star dog name. It has to be something beachy like Kale or Shelldon or ooh, I know, Oyster Wilde.”
“Oyster Wilde?”
“Yes! You know… for Oscar… The Picture of Dorian Gray…”
“Yeah. I get it.” It’s Tatum’s favorite book right now. She’s always got a damn book. “Fine. We can name him Oyster Wilde.”
She hugs my arm. I smile like an idiot because I made her happy.
“Or, instead of being bums, you can sell one of your stories to a movie producer and become the youngest screenplay writer in Hollywood.”
She looks up at me again. Her smile even bigger than before. “And what are you gonna do?”
“I don’t know… be your assistant. Make sure no one screws you over. Fetch you lunch… whatever.”
“Or you can keep playing your guitar, start a band, become a huge success and I can be your roadie,” she laughs because we both know I suck at playing the guitar.
I pinch her side and she squirms. “Shut up. It could happen.”
“Uh huh,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Fine,” I concede. “I’ll just keep living in your shadow.”
“And I’ll just keep living in yours.”
“Whatever we do, we’ll do it together.”
Her smile fades. “Even if we don’t make it to California?”
“No matter where we are.”
“I’m serious. No matter what, promise me it will always be the two of us.”
“Of course, Tate. You’re my best friend. You always will be.”
She looks down at her hand that somehow became wrapped up with my own. “I hope when I’m older I don�
�t turn out like my mom. I hope I can find a good guy to be with. Someone… like you.”
My heart starts beating double time. Tatum is, and pretty much always has been, my best friend. And I guess I’ve always assumed that she will be my first girlfriend and probably someday even my wife. I mean, the thought of me… and especially of her… having someone in our lives that is more important than each other just seems wrong. Lately I’ve been thinking about it more. I think about kissing her. I think about if I’ll have to have a conversation with her about becoming my girlfriend or if that will just kind of happen on its own. I know when the time comes for all of that it will still be us. We’ll just have another title to go along with the best friends’ one.
But I don’t know how to react to what she just said. I can talk to her about anything but I don’t know if I can talk to her about us… like that. It’s awkward. And Tate shouldn’t be anyone’s girlfriend yet. She belongs to herself right now and that’s the way it should be.
Her hand that’s not holding mine tentatively touches my stomach. It feels good. But it feels wrong. I watch Trish and even Tally with their boyfriends. I watch them cling on with desperation, scared they’re going to get left. I watch them so much that I understand. They use their bodies to make people stay in their lives and love them. What Tatum’s doing right now reminds me of them and I don’t like that. I don’t like that she might think she has to give me something in order to keep me.
I don’t move her hand but I tell her, “You’re stronger than they are. The guy you choose will love you because you’re smart and funny and creative and strong. Not because you’re pretty. But you are… I mean, you’re pretty.”
She takes both her hands from me, sits up straight and crosses her arms over her stomach, a scowl on her face. Her stubborn, angry look.
I reach over to take her hand in mine but she won’t let me. “Stop it, Tate,” I tell her.
She glares at me. “Stop what?”
“I don’t know, whatever you’re doing, stop doing it. Whatever you’re mad about, stop being mad,” I tell her, even though I’m pretty sure I know what she’s mad about. I yank her hand away from her body and wrap her fingers up in mine but she’s still looking angry. “That’s how I see you, you know,” I finally say before looking away from her, my right hand shaking for reasons I don’t understand.
A God in Carver (Carver High #1) Page 14