“I’m so glad to be out of Satan’s sister’s house.” We both laughed. “You’ve been down in the basement. Didn’t it smell like brimstone and fire?”
Our laughter numbed my wounds, and we talked for the next two hours.
~ * ~
Monday morning, I showered, gathered my stuff, and left for my senior year. After talking to Tyler, I felt a thousand times better. I needed to regroup and get my head straight. Dwelling on his absence was only making it worse.
Emma caught me at my locker before the first bell rang.
“Why didn’t you call me back this weekend?” she asked.
I twisted the combination and pulled the metal door. “I’m sorry. It’s been a bad couple of days.”
“Is it your dad?”
“No, not entirely, but he’s not doing that great either.”
“So, what’s up then?” She leaned against the locker next to mine and crossed her arms. “Your mom wouldn’t tell me. She said I had to talk to you.”
Just like Mom. She’d take a secret to the grave.
“Um... Do you remember the guy that helped me at the festival?”
She looked at me with her big, coal-black eyes. “Of course.”
My cheeks burned.
Emma’s face went paler than usual. She pushed off the wall, looking proud. “You owe me fifty bucks.”
“I guess I do,” I said. “He’s amazing.”
She squealed, jumping up and down. “Tell me about him!”
Her excitement triggered a high alert defense in me. I didn’t want to share Tyler. He was my secret, and I missed my private world.
Run. Run, now!
“Uh... I gotta go. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be late.” I pivoted and hurried down the hallway.
Emma called out, “What the hell, Elsie?”
I sprinted out the main doors and across the front lawn of the school. Gasping for air, I stopped on the sidewalk. Tears stung my eyes as my heart pounded on my chest.
I’d been robbed. Robbed of my dad and now Tyler. I bent over and put my hands on my knees, sucking in deep breaths.
Get it together, I told myself. You gotta push through it. Just like cleaning houses, you just have to get through it.
As I stood alone in the blazing heat of September, the first bell rang in the distance. Crap. Tardy the first day of school. Great job, Elsie.
I walked back toward the building. Hopefully, Mrs. Kline was in a good mood.
When I came home that afternoon, I stopped by Dad’s room to see how his day had gone. He was asleep, and Megan was sitting in the recliner reading a gossip magazine. I chatted with her for a few minutes, then I went to my room and changed clothes to go pick in the field.
Tyler’s journal peeked out from under the covers. I had to resist. I’d never get a pepper off a plant if I opened it. I slipped my phone in my back pocket and headed outside.
After an hour of picking the far corner of the field, I heard something rustling behind me. I spun around. A few rows away, the leaves of the pepper plants rustled. Please, don’t be a snake. I stood still, like Dad taught me just in case it was a rattler. The plants stirred again, and then I heard a snorting sound. A black snout popped up between the rows. I stepped closer, and a brown basset hound moseyed toward me, sniffing my trail.
I winced when he approached. Yuck. He smelled like a yeasty foot.
Still sniffing the ground around my feet, he didn’t acknowledge me. He was brown and black with long, floppy ears, and patchy fur covered in dust. I clicked my tongue to get his attention. The old dog looked up at me like I’d just appeared, and then he started howling a hound dog bellow. Ba-woo, ba-woo, ba-woo! His bay echoed like a warning signal from a barge.
I put out my hands. “Shh. Shush. It’s okay... ”
He bellowed on. I stepped closer, holding out the back of my hand. He paused his howl and sniffed me over. The quiet afternoon returned, as he decided if I was an acceptable human or not. His long, wet tongue licked the back of my hand, and then he looked up at me with pathetic, sad eyes. I knelt down and rubbed the top of his head.
“Oh... you poor thing, who do you belong to?”
He panted and tried to lick my face.
Giggling, I dodged his sloppy kiss, and rubbed his ears. He leaned against me, enjoying the affection. His pungent scent was almost unbearable, so I started back toward the house. He followed on my heels as if he’d found the person he’d been looking for. I went inside and filled a bowl of water for him. When I returned, he was sitting under the tree, panting in the humid air. His presence comforted me. He looked as sad as I felt. The broken-down old dog just needed some love. I set down the bowl and he instantly lapped up the water.
“You’ll be ‘Old Dog’ until I’m told otherwise. That okay with you?”
He looked up at me like he understood the question as water ran out of his flabby jowls down his neck. I smiled and rubbed his stinky head.
Later that night, Mom and I sat at the table eating cheeseburgers. Her quiet manner matched mine, both of us burdened with feelings we didn’t want to talk about.
“Has Mark given you the money for our first two loads?” I finally spoke up.
“Yes, he did this afternoon. I meant to say thank you hours ago.”
I shrugged. “It’s no biggie.”
“Yes, it is, Elsie. It helps a lot.” She held her burger midair. “I really appreciate what you and Mark are doing. It’s awful work.”
“It’s easy... it just sucks, that’s all,” I said. She chuckled in agreement. “Do we owe Mr. McAllister for using the acreage?”
“I wanted to pay him, but he called me when I was in Nashville and told me not to worry about it,” she said with an irritated edge. She hated handouts, but something else fed her tension. “I need to tell you. He’s put the house on the market. Since we’re living here, he isn’t going to put a sign in the yard, mostly out of respect for your dad and me, but it is officially for sale.”
“Will he give us time to find something else?”
“Of course. Kenny’s a good man, he wouldn’t put us out on the streets. Maybe we’ll go back to Illinois. I don’t know... It wouldn’t hurt to be around our family.”
Hearing the word “Illinois” made me want to run. I’d promised not to be that person anymore. But after the weight of the lie was lifted, the urge to run when my emotions went haywire had come back stronger than ever. I had to think about something else. Old Dog. I took a bite of my sandwich, and then I told Mom about finding him in the field.
~ * ~
I made up with Emma the next day. We ate lunch together by a fence covered in wild honeysuckle. I confessed my summer, even down to the night we spent in the abandoned house. She loved my stories about jogging, Mrs. Vaughn, the fight with Mr. Smith (a man she’d encountered when working as a waitress at the restaurant; apparently, he was an equal-opportunity jerk), my F-bomb that blew my cover, and when I told her about the fight at the pool hall, she went crazy as she listened to the details of how Tyler beat Bobby’s ass. No one liked Bobby.
On my way home, I picked up a bag of dog food. For the rest of the week, Old Dog met me at the field after school, and we walked the rows, gathering peppers. If I walked forward, he walked forward. If I took two steps backward, he’d take two steps back. No matter where I went, he was right on my heels. After two days, Mark joined me when he got off work at his new job at the machine shop. Once he met Old Dog, he seemed more motivated to do the tedious work, as well. We made the best of the time under the sun, even though I still wasn’t ready to laugh and chat. Mark didn’t push. He let me have my sour mood with more understanding than I’d ever expected. But for the first time in over a week, I wanted to say something. I stopped in the middle of my row. He was bent over, picking a few yards ahead.
“Mark,” I called out.
He snapped to attention and spun around, holding three red peppers in his hands.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Me, too. Sorry Bobby went at you like that. Several people told me about it. Elsie, you’ve dealt with enough shit, you know I’d never let him do that to you.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
We stood there in an awkward silence for a second, then he started picking again. Relief settled my nervous stomach. Thank God, he understood.
Each night, I’d help Mom with dinner, and we’d eat in the bedroom with Dad. Afterward, I’d crawl in bed and stare at the cover of Tyler’s journal. Thumbing the pages, I’d glance at his clean print written in blue, catching words like, beautiful, flawless, outstanding, or even simpler words: her, she, mine. Then there were phrases that piqued my curiosity: absolutely tortured, freaking out, confuses the hell out of me... I wasn’t sure what held me back from reading it, other than I was afraid I’d think about him even more. He haunted my dreams, my thoughts. Then, my mind would play tricks on me. I’d hear his voice in a crowd, or I’d spot the back of his head as I walked down the hallway at school. His absence, or maybe it was our memories... was pure torment.
I’d lie in bed with his journal beside me, releasing into my sketchbook my memories of his face. Most nights, I’d receive a text that helped me not feel as alone in my heartache.
Tyler: I am completely lost without you. I can’t even focus on basic math!
Me: Who can ever focus on math?!? LMAO
Tyler: Just keep the charcoal in your hand and you’ll be fine. I desperately miss you.
Me: I desperately miss you, too.
After two weeks of adjusting to my new routine of school, picking peppers, and helping take care of Dad, I was sitting on my bed one afternoon, sketching a picture of Old Dog, when someone knocked at my door.
“Yeah,” I answered.
Megan poked her head inside. “Hey, how y’all doin’?”
She stepped inside, walked to my dresser, and leaned against it.
“I’m good.”
“So... I heard about your boy leavin’. What’s his name, again?”
I stared at her for a second. Mark must’ve said something. “Tyler.”
She strolled across the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Heard he had to go back to school.”
“Yeah. It’s gonna be a long four months.”
“It’ll get better. Mark said you’re pretty sad. Is there anything I can do?”
“Take me to Nashville,” I said with a weak smile.
“I wish!” She laughed. “Love Nashville. I’d be in hog heaven if I could live there.”
That comment made me laugh, but I still wasn’t ready to be cheerful. Megan picked up Tyler’s journal off my nightstand. Panic surged through me and I reached out to take it back, but stopped. Calm down. She isn’t going to steal it.
“It’s so pretty.” She flipped the pages with her thumb. “Ooh, I love the way it smells.”
“He gave it to me.”
“Oh, wow, it’s full.” She looked at me. “This is Tyler’s?”
“Yeah, I haven’t read it, yet.”
She opened to a random page, read for a second, and then she slapped it shut.
“Why aren’t you reading this?”
“I don’t know... I guess I’m afraid of what it says.”
“This will make you feel better.” She held the book mid-air. “Girl, I only read like two sentences. Do yourself a favor.”
She laid it on my lap. I ran my fingers over the front and opened the cover. Inside, a piece of cream-colored stationery was wedged between the flap and first page.
Elsie,
Since you’re so curious about my journal, I thought you might like to read it after I leave.
It’s about you, for you, and anytime you forget how much I love you—Please, reread.
Love – Tyler
I glanced up. Megan had gone. She was like a little angel floating around the house, reminding us that joy was no further than our fingertips. I held the small piece of notepaper, reading it over and over, then slipped it inside and closed the cover.
I remembered his words about me haunting him. That was exactly how I felt, haunted by an enigma. The clock ticked in the background, reminding me of my solitude. Could a journal full of words really fill the void? I opened the cover to the first page.
Chapter 29
July 1 - FUCK! I leave for Nana’s in two days. I hate this. Always have. After all these years, you’d think they’d get that I don’t want to go back, but no. What I want doesn’t matter. Grandpa. All I can think of is Grandpa when I’m there. Nana is one thing. An entirely different thing. But every night, I see Grandpa in my dreams, in my nightmares. It’s constant. And then Dad wants me to go back. I can still smell his pipe tobacco in the study. I can still smell his cologne in the bathroom down the hall. I hear him calling out “TJ” sometimes when I’m swimming. Shiloh’s the only place I can go. The one place I can get away. Six weeks. Fuck.
July 4 - Kismet. Maybe it’s kismet. I swear, I’m crazy. A man drops with a seizure and all I can think about is his daughter? What’s wrong with me? I need to go see Dr. Allen again. I haven’t been there in over a year. My brain’s all twisted. The whole scene freaked me out. But she’s gorgeous. She’s talented. And then she’s crying in front of me, desperate, helpless, terrified. God. I’ll never forget the look in her crystal blue eyes. Crystal doesn’t even begin to describe them. They’re more like a crisp winter sky. No. The clear blue water at St. Thomas. I asked her out. She’s the first girl I’ve asked out in over a year. And that idea turned out to be a disaster. Hopefully, meeting Elsie won’t be. Zach thinks I’m crazy for ignoring all the girls at school. I know I can get laid. God knows, I wouldn’t mind. But I’m not that guy. I just want to get to know her. Maybe the next six weeks won’t be a drag after all.
July 14 - I’m done. Tanked. Sank. Totally and completely in love with her. Ten days? I feel like I’ve known her my whole life. Or maybe it’s like everything in my life has been leading up to this. She’s amazing. She meets me every morning and we laugh and joke like we’re teenagers. Oh. I guess, technically we are, but I didn’t do things like this a few years ago. I stayed at home and ignored all human existence. Zach filled me in enough to keep me from being a complete hermit. He understands me. He loves his grandpa as much as I do, did... whatever. I asked Elsie to go to dinner. I need to take her out. I need to know she feels the same way I do. I’m so fucking needy all of a sudden. Why? It’s like a monster’s inside of me. After kissing her, I know exactly what I want in this life. Elsie.
~ * ~
Every day after school, I came home and picked in the field until supper. Mom would either call me in from the back door, or I’d make my way inside around six or seven and start cooking, if she hadn’t already. Over the next four weeks, we kept our routine, eating dinner in the bedroom with Dad, and then I’d go to my room and read. Tyler’s journal meant the world to me. If I couldn’t talk to him or text him, at least I had his words. He’d written every detail about meeting me at Shiloh, and how he feared his grandmother’s reaction to us dating. What I loved most was that he didn’t care what the old woman thought. He wanted me more because I wasn’t from privilege. From money. That part was the most amusing. He had no idea how much money my family had. The farmland that my grandparents owned paled in comparison to the Vaughn’s wealth, but that was because nothing had been liquidated. Grandma and Grandpa Diefenbach were loaded. I resented their money because of the way they’d treated Dad, but the truth was, Mark and I were the only grandchildren in the lineage. My uncle didn’t have any kids, and we were the last of the Diefenbach line through my grandfather.
Regardless, Tyler had poured out his feelings on the pages—unabashed. I had to assume he never thought he’d let anyon
e read them. As I read the passage I caught a glimpse of when I’d snooped while cleaning, I found more:
July 30 - I don’t want to be at Shiloh without her. I don’t want to be anywhere without her. After weeks of seeing her every day, I need to wake up beside her every morning, for the rest of my life. Can someone seriously fall in love this fast? I’m crazy. I told Dr. Allen, the odds were against me. If I had a brain that absorbed information like a sponge in water, I was bound to lose my mind one day. He laughed and said, “Tyler. You just need to get laid. You’re eighteen.”
SERIOUSLY? Is that all anyone in this world thinks about? I never went back there again. I still wonder about that guy.
August 3 - I can’t sleep. Nightmares again. Long, vivid nightmares. It’s easier to stay awake than go through the nightmares. Dr. Allen told me to write it out, like it was a fictional story so I could detach myself from it. I’ll try it again. Maybe it’ll work this time.
15 years old. 9:30 p.m. The Country Club.
“So, TJ. What you think of them Saints?” Grandpa asked. “Gonna be a good year.”
“I’d like to see Brees get a ring.”
“Me, too.” He tossed back a swig of bourbon. “Your grandmother thinks the Saints are cowards,” he slurred. “Crazy woman. She’s going nuts. I swear, TJ, she’ll be the death of me.”
His forehead furrowed with irritation. Nana had lost it before we left for dinner. She’d wailed that Grandpa was a greedy old bastard, and how much she hated him. I walked out of the kitchen when she said it. Spending the summer there was bad enough. I didn’t want to listen to her bitch him out in the process.
Life Happens on the Stairs Page 24