Shark Out of Water (Grab Your Pole, #3)

by Jenn Cooksey

  “I was watching you play when two women came up and sat down on the bench next to me. One of them had a little boy about your age and the other was pushing a stroller…well, you know how women are, we got to talking about our children and babies and when the one woman with the little boy mentioned she was pregnant again, I told them I was as well. However while we were talking, you discovered someone was distracting me from watching you so you marched over to us, I’m sure with the intention of regaining my full attention…you know you’ve never been all that fond of sharing, dear…anyhow, you had the most adorable sour look on your face when you stomped up, but before you uttered a word, the baby cried. And that was it. When her mother pushed the canopy back to take her out of the stroller, you looked at her and from that moment, you were in love.

  “Obviously I didn’t recognize it for what it really was and I sincerely doubt you even knew what love actually is at that age, but the three of us just thought your reaction to her was the most darling thing we’d ever seen. You lost all interest in playing and glued yourself to her mother so you could see the baby’s face. I wish you could’ve seen yours though when her mother offered to let you hold her…honestly Tristan, you would’ve thought it was Christmas morning and you’d just woken up to see all the presents Santa Clause had left under the tree for you.

  “You were so very careful with her, and of course you’d already had experience holding a baby with Kate, however you were never all that interested in her and the way you held this baby was different. It was almost like you were staking a claim. It looked very protective and possessive to me and I was a little concerned when they were getting ready to leave that you were going to throw a tantrum because I saw in your eyes your unwillingness to give her up, but, you did and without issue. The following day was a slightly different story, but you can see that for yourself. Y—”

  “Wait, what do you mean, see the following day myself?” I interrupted to ask.

  “She came to your birthday party, dear, and we have the two of you on video.”

  “You’re joking…” I said in complete disbelief.

  “Remember, Tristan, we were all new mothers and even though it might not have been the best parental decision to humor a two-year-old in that way, we all couldn’t resist how charming you were with her so when you asked me if she could come to your party, I told you it was up to her mom, so you politely asked her mother and she agreed.”

  “This is—is—Jesus. I don’t even know what to do with this…I have so many questions—I don’t even know where…I just—shocking, Mom, really…” I said in a lame expression for the jumble of bewilderment, astonishment, and questions tumbling through my head.

  “I know. It’s a lot.”

  “A lot? Ya think?! Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this sooner?! I mean, shit, Mom! You wait until I tell you it’s over with Camie to tell me that I met and fell in love with her when I was a fucking two-year-old toddler?! OH! And that we have a goddamned home video to prove it?! Seriously Mom! What the fuck?” Yeah I know it’s not cool to go off on your mom, but come on…really?

  “You really should try to not swear so much, dear.”

  “Yeah, I’ll get right on that…how ‘bout right after you explain why the fuck you didn’t say anything before!”

  “Truthfully Tristan, I just recently realized myself…when Joey couldn’t pronounce Camie’s full name, it triggered a memory and I wasn’t even sure until I came home and looked in your book. Even though he’s such an incredible conversationalist for being as young as he is and you were a year older than he is at that time, it was the same with you…you couldn’t say Cameron and it frustrated you so you chose to call her baby. Or rather, your baby. It was my baby this and my baby that. Really, dear, you were obsessed. Camie’s mother gave you that baby-doll you loved so much for your birthday and you pretended it was the bab—well, Camie for the longest time…you know, I think we still have it in the garage somew—”

  “MOM! Focus! Jesus…”

  “Well I’m sorry, Tristan, little details have been coming back to me…and if you’ll recall, I did try to tell you before tonight.”

  “Oh, yeah, putting my baby book on a pile of rubble is an awesome way to tell me. Good plan, Mom.”

  “Well, I left you a note on your wall as well, but really, Tristan, what did you want me to do? Post the picture up there and have you wondering why?”

  “W—well, yeah! I mean, that’s how it works! You would’ve posted the picture or something and I would’ve asked, “What’s this?” and then you reply by saying something like, “A picture of your soul mate?” and then I would’ve said something snarky like, “Clearly,” then you could’ve explained and I could’ve told Camie about all this before everything tonight happened and then the whole thing could’ve been wrapped up with a nice little “Thanks, you’re the best.” I mean, Mom, that’s how the wall works, those are the rules!”

  “Hmm…” She pondered and cocked her head, looking at me like Jillian does sometimes. Jesus Christ, can this night get any more ridiculous or unnerving?

  “What?!”

  “Well, I’m just wondering if you believe Camie to be your soul mate why either of you finding out about this now rather than days ago makes a difference in the grand scheme of things…”

  I’m sure I looked like a goddamned trout out of water when she said that as my mouth opened and closed without sound. “W—We—shit. I don’t know! Hell, if I’m honest, I’m starting to think Camie and I aren’t good for each other anyway, so maybe if I’d found out about this sooner it would’ve only prolonged the ugly inevitable end…”

  My mom stood up and returning the bottle of scotch back to the cabinet, she pulled out a bottle of champagne and a flute. “Oh, did you want a glass of champagne, dear?”

  I shook my head and absentmindedly answered, “Nu-uh, I quit drinking last month.”

  I watched her take her seat again and begin to peel the foil off the champagne bottle. I’m not asking…I don’t quite know what she’s thinking, chasing scotch with champagne, but, whatever.

  “Really now, last month you say? How did you do it? Over a period of time or did you just go cold turkey?”

  “Uh…cold turkey,” I answered without really hearing her question but shivering a little at the thought of turkey.

  “Really? Was that hard to do?”

  I was numb and lost in my thoughts, not really paying attention but trying to answer just the same. “But do you believe in soul mates?”

  “I think the better question is do you?”

  “Huh. I dunno. I mean, I thought I did. No. I did. I really did, but, now…”

  “What happened to make you doubt your former belief?”

  “Well, even as a kid I always felt like there was someone meant for me specifically and when I met Camie, Mom, I thought…you know…but over the last couple of weeks with all the shit that’s been goin’ on I started to think if she isn’t mine, then that meant to be someone doesn’t exist…I was really kinda thinking she was it, you know? The one, but, she and I fight. Not like all the time or anything, I mean we don’t fight constantly but we argue and stuff, but when we do have an honest to God fight, it’s really nasty and ugly. I mean, not nasty to the point of getting physical or anything…although…huh. Fuck. That’s not true.”

  I looked at my mom and saw her watching me as I talked it out and before she could assume I meant physical as in beating or hitting each other, I clarified. In hindsight though, I think I made the distinction for me. I really doubt my mom would’ve ever thought that’s what I’d meant, however, I did abuse Camie physically and before I had, I never thought I could be capable of it, and because in my mind hitting a girl in anger or otherwise is just as horrendous as what I almost did, I needed to remind myself that I hadn’t crossed that particular barbaric line.

  “The truth is, Mom, we do get physical when we fight. It just comes out in ah…in a non-violent way, I guess you could say,
” My mom was nodding, like she completely understood. Almost like she was saying, “I know,” which made me a kinda uncomfortable, but I decided to not delve into what she “might” know and pressed on. “And I hate that, Mom, I really do…I don’t understand it and it frustrates the shit outta me because we can’t seem to help ourselves. It’s like we’re possessed and have no control whatsoever.”

  My mom had been struggling with the cork to the champagne and funny as it was to watch her, I snatched it out of her hands and popped it open for her, shaking my head and rolling my eyes at her “I almost had it” look as I did.

  “It’s called passion, Tristan.”

  Incredulous at her statement, I looked at her, pouring the champagne. “Passion? Losing control of your temper and viciously screaming hateful or cruel things at each other, and then in the next breath venting your anger by tearing each other’s clothes off is passion? How the hell do you figure that? Because honestly, Mom, that’s just plain wrong and it’s not something I think I want in my fairytale, you know?”

  “Well, I can understand why you might feel that way right now, but personally, I wouldn’t want love without it.”

  “Well, yeah, I want passion with love, but not like that. It feels…I dunno, wrong somehow.” I left out the part about me really liking the adrenaline of it though. That part is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I don’t know that I’ll ever have it with anyone other than Camie and it just makes me even more confused about her and what to do.

  “That’s because you haven’t learned how to have passion in a romantic relationship without letting it control you. Tristan dear, you have always been a very intense individual and you need to understand that for you, specifically, romantic love will always be an extremely intense emotion because that’s who you are. You’re passionate about all the things you love…swimming, surfing, your friendship with Jeff…and you use that passion like a tool, but it comes naturally to you in that regard because you’ve been doing those things your whole life and they’re essentially built into the core of who you are as a person. However with that being said, I think I owe you an apology…”

  “What? Why?”

  She sighed and looked at me, shaking her head in self-reproof, “Because Tristan, I’ve made your life too easy. You’re very good at many things because you’re inherently intelligent and talented, which means you’ve never truly had to work for anything or deal with disappointment, and the way we raised you enabled you to believe everything is easy, which unfortunately produced an unrealistic sense of entitlement,” my mom told me and received a look of “you lost me” in return, “Alright, let me explain it to you this way…when you used to draw on your bedroom walls, what did your father and I do? We put up that whiteboard instead of teaching you that it’s not okay to draw on the walls of the house. After all we went through before you were born, we felt so incredibly fortunate to have been blessed with a child and we didn’t want to lecture you or yell at you, or really even tell you no. All we wanted was to enjoy our blessing so we raised you in an environment where you were free to do what you wanted as long as you were being safe.

  “We wanted to maintain the open lines of communication with you and the fastest way to close those down would’ve been to threaten punishment for doing things most children inevitably end up doing that parents don’t typically approve of. You would’ve become secretive which has the potential for you putting yourself in dangerous situations that we would have no control over, and the trust in our relationship would’ve been non-existent. Our sole purpose was to love you unconditionally and allow you to be your own person, but keep you safe in doing so. An example is giving you your grandfather’s bus…we educated you about the dangers involved in using various drugs and alcohol, however we knew if you wanted to drink or smoke pot you were going to do it regardless of what we would say, so we gave you the bus so you could be safe doing it away from home, and there was never any question, you understood you don’t drive if you’re ever under the influence. Period. We taught you the importance of taking care of your body and that included your father talking to you about sex and explaining abstinence is the safest way to remain healthy, although you shot that particular horse in the face in Hawaii…”

  Okay so yeah, I’m shifting a little in my seat now. It’s not that I think my parents are stupid and don’t know I’ve had sex before, but how the hell did they find ou—oh. Duh. I sent Jeff that damned postcard and because it wasn’t sealed up, what I wrote was there for all the world to read…including Jeff’s dad. Jesus, I’m such an idiot sometimes.

  “But here again, we understood that if you wanted to have sex, you were going to do it regardless of whether we approved or condoned it, so your father taught you how to be safe. He was thorough in his conversation with you about it so you were cognizant of the dangers, and not only did he explain what the appropriate precautions are, but you learned how to take them correctly as well, eliminating as much danger as feasibly possible. We even allowed you to be kept back a grade with Jeff, although we did have you study with a tutor, however it wasn’t going to school or learning that was your reason for wanting to be home. You simply didn’t want to go to school without your best friend and we simply gave you what you wanted because we didn’t see a danger in letting you repeat a grade. Essentially, dear, we spoiled you rotten. But just like anything that’s truly worth having in life, love takes work, Tristan. It isn’t handed to anyone on a silver platter or even on a paper plate, and now that you’ve found yourself in a situation that requires real work on your part, you’re floundering because your father and I didn’t teach you how to swim.”

  I kinda didn’t know what to say. I’ve never had a doubt in my mind that my parents love me and because of how they raised me, we’ve always had a very open and trusting relationship, and I’ve never run into any problems I couldn’t handle so it never occurred to me they might’ve been doing me a disservice, which is what she’s trying to say is the case.

  “Mom, you and Dad are seriously the best parents in the world…I mean I couldn’t and wouldn’t ask for a better mom and dad than you guys. I don’t know anyone else who can say they have the kind of honest and trusting relationship with their parents that I have with you and Dad. Really, I don’t want you blaming yourself for anything…I’m a big boy and watching you and Dad has taught me a lot about the kind of relationship I want with someone and the kind of person I wanna have that relationship with…and I could’ve had it with Camie if I hadn’t fucked things up, and I did that all by myself, Mom. Well, with the help of what you’re calling passion…” …and, alcohol.

  “Tristan, you can still have the relationship you want, and possibly even with Camie. I don’t know the details and I don’t particularly want to know, but the fact is, the kind of relationship you want is going to take dedication and hard work, and it’s going to be your choice whether or not it’s worth it to you to make the effort. And believe me, there’s a substantial amount of effort needed to make an everlasting relationship. There’s a reason why your father and I have date night every week…we know that to have a healthy relationship, we need to make time for each other and only each other on a regular basis. And there’s plenty of give and take even with that. For instance, your father would really rather not sit through another symphony or ballet in his lifetime. He doesn’t care for the music, the atmosphere, or really, even the people who attend, but because I enjoy it as much as I do, he puts on a smile and he goes, whereas I make concessions in other ways…like my hair for example.”

  “Your hair?” I asked, looking at it and frowning. I don’t see a single thing wrong with her hair…

  “Mmhm, my hair.”

  “I like your hair. It’s pretty.”

  “Your father thinks so too, and he loves it. But I don’t. It’s a lot of work to keep it up and sometimes I’d like to cut it so it’s easier or just to try something new. However, your father, for whatever reason, really adores this style so
because it’s important to him, I make the effort to wear it the way he likes it and I try to do it with a joyful heart. And he and I do all that because we are committed to loving each other…we’ve chosen to spend our lives together and make the effort it takes for us to do that. You, dear, need to decide what it is that you want and then determine whether doing certain things are worth the effort to attain it.”

  “Well, I want her, but, we’re in this really messed up stalemate right now, and even if I give in and give her what she wants, there’s no guarantee she’ll even wanna live in the same state as me anymore, let alone take me back, but even if she did, Mom, we’d still fight and I don’t want that!”

  “Well that’s just too bad, Tristan, the reality is people fight. Even those who love each other the most…you can’t expect life to be like a book or a movie. You can, however, learn how to fight without hurting each other. Now, that’s not to say you won’t unintentionally hurt each other’s feelings every now and then, but when you have a relationship based on respect and trust, it won’t be catastrophic when that inevitability happens.”

  “How do you figure, Mom? You and Dad never fight! And yeah, I get it, I know people fight…I mean Jeff and Kate argue about stuff, but it’s usually because Jeff’s being a dick and it’s never like how Camie and I fight so, I don’t see how what you’re saying applies to me, you know? It’s just not the same.”

  “No, your relationship with Camie, or anyone else for that matter, will not be the same as Jeff’s is with Kate because they’re different people, but I’ll have you know, you are an awful lot like I am and believe me, your father and I do fight, it’s just that we’ve learned how. And I’ll tell you something, I used to think I hated your father…honestly, when we were young…he would do or say things that would get under my skin in a way that just infuriated me to no end.