“I don’t want sex with her, Dad.”
“I can’t believe you let this happen. Where’s your brain?” He uses his finger tips to whack me on the side of the head and after this second mini assault, I step backward, out of his reach.
Yes, I should’ve known better than to let this happen, and I guess I do, now, but there’s part of me that wants to throw this right back on Dad and ask where the parental supervision was. Or at least make him account for leaving the liquor cabinet door open and unlocked. But I keep my mouth shut about that, because I know he’s not exactly in his normal state of mind right now and I don’t want to make the matter worse.
“How the hell am I going to explain this to Tom? His little girl, drunk and sprawled out naked on my son’s floor. You think he’s going to like that? Do you? He’s not going to like it; I can tell you that much, Ryan.” Dad begins pacing the great room, after that, and goes off about things like Tom suing him, contributing to a minor, legal action, jail time, permanent records, probation and fines, and although I know he’s drunk, I believe 98% of what he’s saying and it scares me even more.
Then Dad shakes his head in disgust and while looking right at me, says, “I just hope you got a damn good lay out of it.”
That pisses me off and I can’t help but shout, “I didn’t F– her! I don’t even like her, Dad. I like Paige, and I’m not about to mess up the slim chance I have with her for that . . .” I omit the word I want to call Tasha because I know I’ll get thumped for saying it.
This is about the time my mom enters the house, somehow still wearing the necklace she started the evening out with, and says, “What the sam hell is going on? I can hear you guys yelling clear out to the street.”
In his anger, Dad loudly gives her all the details of the evening, or his version of it, anyway. And with each word her eyes grow wide with fear and worry, and she keeps looking at me like I’m the guiltiest SOB on the planet.
“Mom,” I plead with her to understand. “Dad was the one who invited her in, and she raided the liquor cabinet all on her own. I know I’m a total screw up for not telling him what was going on before it was too late, but . . . now it’s too late.”
Dad starts in again, “I’ll say it’s too late. And I guess I should have just slammed the door in her face when she knocked?”
“No, not her. You’ll see Paige to the door, five seconds after you know she’s here, but you’ll let Tasha come in and stay all . . .”
Her cell phone rings again and silences the whole place. I shut up. Dad freezes. Luc shakes his head, and Mom sighs. We all just stand there and listen to the sound.
Then Mom gives me a slight push. “Answer it, Ry. Tell him where she is and that he needs to come get her. I’ll go clean her up and get her dressed. Craig, you’ll help me move her to the livingroom in a few minutes, then find yourself a place to be. Don’t come out when Tom gets here. Luc. Bed. Now.”
I don’t want to answer the damn phone. I’m afraid, but Mom pulls me by the arm into my bedroom and hands me Tasha’s phone just before locking herself into the bathroom with her.
My hand is trembling and so is my voice when I hit talk. “Mr. Holmes?”
“Ryan? Where the hell is Tasha?”
“At my house,” I all but whisper. “She’ll need a ride home. She’s . . . been drinking.”
He curses, and I humbly add, “I’m really sorry.”
Tasha is sleeping on the couch and Mom has her tucked in with a blanket when Tom and his second wife, Rhonda, arrive. I’m sitting on the edge of the chair, looking as haggard as I feel, I’m sure, and I’m too nervous to meet Tom’s gaze when Mom lets them into the house.
“Oh, Tom,” Mom says shaking her head. “We are so sorry. I went to the charity dinner and can’t believe this has happened while I was gone.”
“Is she alright?” Tom leaves Rhonda standing by the entrance and moves quickly to the couch to check on Tasha.
“I think she’ll be fine. But apparently, she got sick. I did what I could to clean her up, but her top is soiled.”
Tom stands over his daughter then turns to look at me, and he’s not happy. “Ryan, are you drunk, too?”
“No, sir,” I say quietly.
“He says she took the liquor on her own, Tom,” Mom says gently. “It’s our fault, though. We should have made sure the cabinet was more secure. There’s simply no excuse for not having done so.”
Tom keeps staring at me and I keep ducking my head in shame. I wish I could just disappear, right now.
“Did you even try to stop her, Ryan?”
“Yes, sir, I did, actually.”
“Tom,” Mom leans in closer and in a confidential type whisper says, “Since the accident he’s . . . Well, it’s hard for him to control what other people want to do. He only has the strength of a child, and . . .” She pauses to glance at me, then steps in even closer and whispers even quieter to him. “He doesn’t think the same way he used to. He’s healing, but he does still have a brain injury. I’m just glad he kept her here and didn’t let her drive home. No parent should have to go through what we have with his accident. And the hell that boy has gone through because of it. Oh Tom, Tasha just doesn’t need that.”
“You’re right,” Tom says. “I’m glad she’s here and safe. I’m not so sure this is all your fault, or Ryan’s. Tasha has been known to do this before. I can’t even keep a bottle of wine in my house, anymore. I’m sorry she did this here, to all of you.”
“I’m certain we can forgive her.”
Tom looks at me again, and although I want to jump up and kiss my mom right now, I still feel pretty messed up inside.
“You okay, Ry?” he asks.
I nod, but that’s all and I think he knows I’m lying.
Then, in the most sympathetic and soft tone she’s used yet, Mom says, “Tom, I don’t know how Tasha feels, but I believe Ryan is finished with the relationship. Things have simply changed so much for him.”
Tom seems saddened by this and he looks me over carefully before nodding understandingly.
I glance at Tasha and wonder if she has any clue that my mom just basically told her dad to keep her away from me.
“I’ll get her out of here. Again, I’m sorry,” Tom says.
“So are we. Very sorry.” Mom glances at me and I take her hint.
I stand up to face Tom. “I apologize, too.”
Tom gives a straight mouthed smile then reaches for my hand. I shake it and he says, “Keep it up, Ryan, I’ll bet you are playing ball, again, before you know it.”
I glance at Mom and simply because I think she already knows, I say, “I hope not. I think I’m finished with that as well. I just have to find the guts to tell my Dad.”
“Well, good luck in whatever you choose to do, then,” Tom pats me on the shoulder and I nod out a thank you.
Then, he scoops up his incredibly gorgeous daughter, the same way my dad scoops me up when I can’t get up the stairs, and somehow it doesn’t look nearly as humiliating as it feels. He carries her out of the house, and as I stand at the open door with Mom and watch Rhonda drive away in Tasha’s car and Tom in his own, I hope that’s the last time I’ll ever see Tasha, but since we go to school together, I know it won’t be.
“Thanks Mom,” I say softly and wrap an arm around her.
She’s still wearing her heels, which makes her almost as tall as me, and she lays her head against mine. “You’d better get to bed, Ry. It’s late.”
“Can I sleep out here? My room still smells like her.”
Mom smiles. “At this point, I’m too tired to care where you sleep.”
The couch isn’t the most comfortable thing, and I don’t sleep the best. I wake earlier than anyone else and I enter my bedroom to clean up after Tasha so I can have my space back. I start with the tissue, then move on to the bathroom. When I’m done, I stand in front of my dresser and stare at the blue belongings bag, the hospital ID band, and the pop bottle lid Paige kicked to the
park. Junk. All of it, but it means something to me and I wouldn’t want it to be taken away from me. I smile at it, then turn for my closet, dig out all my expensive and impressive football gear. Pads, cleats, helmet, the works, and pile them neatly at the side of the stairs leading to Lucas’s room.
It’s all gone when I wake up from a long nap.
_____
Maybe I thought Zane would simmer down over the weekend and leave Luc alone, but he doesn’t. He’s right back at it Monday morning, and as I pass the scene, I look Luc in the eyes and silently beg him to stand up for himself.
Do it, Luc! Hit him in the damn nose. Make him bleed. You’re bigger than him in so many ways.
Luc’s response? But not in the ways that matter.
I see Paige at her locker and ask how her weekend was as I pass.
“Fine.” She follows me with her eyes.
“Cool.”
She lets me get a few more feet away before she calls out, “And yours?”
“Messy, but beneficial,” I say over my shoulder.
Tasha is next. We pass right around the place we so often do in the mornings. She graces the edge of my bubble, seems to feel that she has, and looks up to make eye contact with me. She looks sad, but I don’t ask her why and she doesn’t tell me. We just keep moving.
After school Luc is wearing the gear I hauled out of my room, and as we pass on the football field he says what he said about the CD’s I threw out of my room on the first day I got home from the hospital. “These are mine now.”
I grin and repeat what I told him then, and what he already knows now. “You can have them.”
They look damn good on him. He looks official. Like he really belongs there. And I know they’ll keep him a lot safer from the enemies on his own team than the hodgepodge crap he was wearing last week.
He plays a little harder. Runs a little faster. Throws a little farther and swings out of the way when Zane tries to flatten him. And he’s smiling when he leaves the field with Jake and Connor.
_____
On Tuesday I enter the school cafeteria later than I usually do. I do it on purpose. I do it so that Paige is already there. I go through the line, get my food and take it to her table.
“Hi, DeAnn, mind if I sit here?” I ask.
DeAnn looks up at me as if she’s going to pass out and fall right off the bench. Apparently, Ryan Farnsworth has never spoken a word to her in her life.
“I . . .” She glances at Paige who must give her permission to say yes because she finishes her drawn out sentence. “. . . guess.”
“Thanks.” I sit down next to her, which sends her through a loop. Now she doesn’t know if she should be freaked out or flattered, and she keeps looking at Paige, who’s sitting across from us, for the answer.
“So how long have I known you – or should’ve known you?” I ask.
“Since Miss Anderson’s class.”
“Anderson – doesn’t ring any bells.”
“Second grade.”
“Wow. So we go way back then, huh? Cool.” I extend a fist to bump hers, and she gives me that look. Yeah, that one.
It takes her a second to come around, but she doesn’t leave me hanging. She brings her limp fist into contact with mine, and I smile.
“Want my apple?” I ask. “I don’t even know why I got it. They’re always to . . .”
“Soft?” she finishes for me.
“Borderline apple sauce. Apple sauce in a red shell. It’s like biting into a cream filled doughnut, only healthy.”
She laughs – so does Paige – and I set the apple on DeAnn’s tray.
“I don’t want it,” she protests and tries to give it back, but I block her every attempt.
Finally she sets it down between us and I pick up my straw, jam it down into the top, near the stem, and hand the whole thing to Paige.
“Apple juice,” I say, and her eyes glitter as she giggles.
Damn, I like her.
DeAnn doesn’t give me such a hard time when I sit next to Paige in art and that was the whole point of lunch.
TWENTY-FOUR
“Ryan,” Paige calls my name as I push out the back doors of the school. I pause, look back, and she’s jogging to catch up with me. We step out of the building together and once she’s caught her breath, she says, “Want to walk home with me?”
“In the worst way possible.” I say. She smiles and then I have to break her heart. “But I can’t.”
“Football?” She asks and glances toward the field and bleachers in the distance.
“No, I’d skip that to walk with you any day. It’s my leg. I had major setback with it and I really don’t think I can make it that far. Even with the oasis.”
“I’ve noticed you limping a lot more. Like you did that first day you showed up at my house.”
“The blue toenail day.”
She giggles. “Yeah, that day.”
“Yeah,” I reminisce pleasantly, “That day.”
“So what happened?” Her eyes run the length of my left leg before returning to my face.
I could tell her I fell down some stairs and she’d believe me in a heartbeat, but I’ve already lied to her once and I don’t want to do it again.
“I won’t give you the details, so please don’t ask, but . . . I got my ass kicked, actually.”
“What?” Her eyes narrow in immediate alarm and seriousness. “By who?”
“Like I said, please don’t ask the details. But don’t worry, I deserved it.”
“Jeeze, Ryan, that sounds like Battered Woman Syndrome.”
“Maybe, but it was overdue payback and you don’t know what I was like in the past.”
“And you do?”
“I know enough,” I nod. “I’m very sorry I missed the homecoming dance with you, Paige. Honest to God, I wasn’t trying to stand you up and I wasn’t mad at you. I was just being held captive by the hospital bed.”
“Hospital?” she cries out and then her eyes pinch together even tighter. She fights with her desire to ask those pesky details. I can see the questions shoot through her mind, come super close to being vocalized, then being thrown out. But she can’t stop herself from asking, “Why didn’t you tell me you were in the hospital? Is that where you were the whole week you were out of school?”
“Just the weekend. I guess my head was too messed up after I got home to do much of anything. But now that it’s all clear, I regret not calling you. Or at least texting. I owed you something.”
I don’t think she knows what to say, now that I’ve limited what she would like to say, so she just stands there looking at me like she’s in shock.
“Sorry for the pep assembly, too.” I say while she’s quiet and will let me talk. “I really thought I was doing something nice for Lucas. I should have figured those guys would know who I’d pick, and that they’d do that to him. I really had my head up my ass not to have thought about it. And this isn’t an excuse, just a fact, but, it’s hard when your enemies know more about you than you do yourself. Leads to a lot of trouble.”
Paige keeps her eyes right on mine, but she nods slowly and I can tell she finally understands. It makes me feel better. Relieved. Then her eyes change color. They deepen to a dark blue and she shifts her weight from one foot to the other and I know things are about to get sticky.
“And Tasha?” she asks.
“Yeah. I knew we were coming to that.”
“Yep, and here we are.”
“Yeah.” I breathe in, hold it, and as it releases I ask, “am I simply telling you I don’t like her, that I like you, or do details have to be involved?”
“I’d like some closure to the rumors I’ve heard. I’d like to know if their true or not, at least.”
“So I’m admitting everything?”
“Please.”
This makes me very nervous and I feel my heart start to race. It’s not that I’m against telling her, it’s just that I feel like I have to choose my words wisely in order to
keep her from wanting to kill me. And with my damn brain injury, sometimes it’s hard for me to see where things are going before they are actually there. I don’t want to screw this up; she’s finally talking to me again.
I don’t know what else to do other than start talking and hope for the best.
“I lied to you about the cut on my face, Paige, and every time I look at the scar in the mirror, it makes me feel bad.”
She’s confused, because this has nothing to do with Tasha, or so she thinks.
“I didn’t fall and get cut on the desk. Tasha did it in the girl’s bathroom.”
“The . . . girl’s bathroom?”
I nod regretfully. I should start at the beginning. “I’ve been with Tasha a few times since I met you. What DeAnn told you about the library was true. I was with her. We kissed. I’ve kissed her a few times, but not since I kissed you. I mean, she’s kissed me, but I haven’t kissed her back.” That last part might have been too much info. Paige isn’t looking so happy. Her eyes are starting to travel my face. Landing on my lips often, as if she’s imagining them touching Tasha’s.
I have to keep going, get that part in the past, before she puts too much weight into it and walks away from me.
“I didn’t want to be with her, Paige, and in the bathroom I kept telling her so and pushing her away. She was upset and got me with her ring.” I point to my face.
“Then, according to her, you hung out with her after that, and must have given her what she wanted because she was pretty happy the day she slapped your butt by the lunch room.”
My heart doubles in rhythm and now I’m the one that wants to walk away. To get me out of the hot seat, anyway. “I don’t know why I did that. At the time it seemed like everyone was mad at me for one reason or another and I was tired of being alone, and she said she was sorry.”
Paige isn’t saying anything right now, and I debate whether to tell her about Friday night. I don’t want her to find out later and think I was withholding information or trying to hide it, but I don’t want to go there if unnecessary.
Erased Page 19