Better Than Me (16 page)

I do what he says.  Something about someone else taking over; telling me what to do helps to calm me.  Oh no, he really must think I looked crazy pacing around out here like an animal.  How am I going to explain this morning and my confrontation with Suzette to him?  My initial concern is for him.  His feelings. What he has gone through.  It must have been traumatic from the little I am piecing together.  Suzette’s comments, though, they just unhinged me.  She’s probably right.  He’s so much better than me.  Kathleen is better than me. How can we possibly work?

I remain
right where Davis told me to stay.  I’m pretty sure my eyes are huge and terrified, if his expression is reflecting any of what I feel. I am way in my head.  Putting both of his hands on my upper arms, Davis half squats down to make eye contact and pull me back to reality.  “What the hell happened?”

I don’t know why I say it, but a
ll I can think to reply is, “I Googled you.”

Davis barks out a soft laugh, “Well, if that’s what you want to call what we’ve been
doing the past couple of days… Googling.”

His joking shocks me and I unexpectedly laugh, too, in the middle of my panic.  “I didn’t mean it as a euphem
ism,”  I joke back.  “I really Googled you, and your dad.”

Realization of what I have possibly uncovered spreads across
his face and the levity of the Google joke has completely vanishes. “Oh,” is all he says.  “What do you know?”

“I read a bunch.  It was a little confusing, but I think I’ve pieced it together.  I was going to the cafeteria to find you.  I wanted to be there for you. To have you explain it all to me, so
I would understand you better… And then, Suzette appeared and ambushed me outside my door.”

Davis now looks more panicked than I just did.  “What did she say?”

“She thanked me for dumping Jake.”  Davis snorts in response to that bit of information.  “She then proceeded to tell me how I’d never be good enough for you, that I’m crazy and that, that in itself, would drive you away.  She knows a lot about Neil….and Randall.  I… I got scared.  I just had to move.  I didn’t even know if I was running to find you or to run away from you.  You know, remove myself before you found out how damaged I really am.  I…I….” 

Davis wraps me in his arms very tightly. “You’re shaking.  You’re cold. I think you are having a panic attack.  Let’s get you inside.  Do you need anything?”

Part of me wants to say, “my Xanax,” but I haven’t needed them since this summer. Instead I tell him, “I don’t know what I need.  That’s the problem.”

Davis moves, grabbing my hand
tightly, almost too tightly, and pulls me inside the lobby of Lawrence.  We fly through the halls and make our way to the cafeteria.  It’s pretty busy with the brunch crowd. 
Oh no, not the cafeteria.  Not a scene in the cafeteria. 
Right as we move through the cafeteria doors, I pull back on his hand.  It takes all of my strength, because Davis is really upset and it’s manifesting itself physically.  His muscles are tense all over and he practically growls as I pull back hard.

“What, Biz?”

“Davis, please, I don’t want a scene.  I know you are mad, but I can’t take any more attention.  Please.  Slow down and breathe.”

Still growling slightly, but taking deep breaths, Davis
finally speaks, “I am only calming down because you are asking me to, Lizard.  Right now, I want to tear down these walls and go after anyone that scared you.  Made you panic.”

“I’m better now.  Now that you’re here. But could you loosen up on my han
d a bit?  I think I’m losing circulation.”  I try to make a joke to make him smile.

“Oh, god, baby
, I am so sorry.”  He loosens his grip, runs his thumb gently over the top of my hand and then brings it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles.  Looking intently into my eyes, he tells me, “I am going to say something to Suzette and Jake and anyone else here that thinks they need to know.  I am going to tell them exactly what is going on with you…and me.  Can you stick with me?”  I nod yes.

Much calmer
now, Davis and I move to our group’s table.  Everyone is there.  Even the off-campus people.  Davis acknowledges everyone.  I just keep my gaze on him most of the time, but cast a brief glance toward Charlie and Jules.

Davis stares right at Suzette.  He is whispering, not yelling, but his voice is low and threatening.  He is not up in her face.  He is just staring down at her like she is some sort of
insignificant bug. “Suzette, I will not tolerate you harassing my girlfriend.”  Suzette inhales and everyone’s attention at the table moves to watch the exchange between Davis and Suzette.  “Biz has never done anything to you.  She’s with me now.  I. LOVE. HER.  Nothing you do or say or think you know about her matters.  She has me.  I will do anything to protect her.  Anything.  Get it?”  He shifts his attention to Jake. “Jake, I’d be careful, man.  Suzette might be more than you can handle.” He jerks his thumb back to indicate Suzette, “Good luck with THAT.”  He doesn’t say “good luck” or “that” in a positive way.  Davis basically told Jake he’s screwed.

Neither Suzette
nor Jake say a word.  The rest of our table starts clapping and cheering.  Jules jumps up and hugs both Davis and me.  Charlie comes to give me a kiss on the cheek.  Davis playfully shoves him away and pulls me tighter.  Charlie congratulates Davis by slapping him on the back.  When I pull myself away from my best friend’s hug and look back, Jake and Suzette have vanished from our table.  Good riddance.

             
After eating brunch with our friends, Davis turns to me and whispers in my ear that it’s time to go.  I’ve almost…almost let all the information I found out this morning wash away in the happiness of him announcing “Us” to  our friends and setting Jake and Suzette straight.  We say our goodbyes. 

             
Davis tells the entire table, “Yeah, we gotta go…Google.”  Oh My God!  Everyone at the table just nods and grins like he means the real Google, but I know when he says Google he means what we’ve been hiding in my dorm room doing, “Google.”  I roll my eyes at the ceiling and embarrassed, say, “Davis!”

             
“What?  They don’t know when I say Google, I mean sex.”  he informs me loudly and pointedly.

             
Charlie chimes in.  “Well, now we do.”  Davis and I leave amidst our friends laughter and my blushing.  Davis is loving it.

Chapter 21: 
NOW-The Storm

Davis ushers me out of the cafeteria, out of the building and to the parking lot with his hand on the small of my back.  I love being touched by him there.  We move toward his car.  I thought we’d just go back to my room, but evidently we are headed somewhere else.

             
“Where are we going?” I ask.

             
“To my place.  I think we need to talk.”

             
“Uh oh, good talk or bad talk?”  I wonder aloud.

             
Not giving up much information he says, “We’ll see.”

             
Davis has told me he loves me, he’s told all his friends he loves me, but right now he sounds cryptic.  A bit somber.  This makes me extremely anxious.  I start blabbing as we drive to his house.

             
“I can’t believe you talked to Suzette like that.  Just told her you loved me.  Just like that.  No one, ever, except my dad, has ever protected me like that.  And you… you called me your girlfriend.  I’ve never had anyone call me their girlfriend.  Well, not that I ever heard.”  Once again, I cannot shut up.  I chatter the entire short drive to his place.  Throughout the drive, Davis is looking straight out the windshield and occasionally shaking his head.  I wonder what he is thinking, but not enough to shut up.  I’m too nervous and excited.  If I shut up there will only be awkward silence.

             
We pull up to an older looking building in the Central West End area of town.  It’s really nice.  Nicer than most college students can afford.  That’s right, Davis is wealthy.  That’s something else we will have to talk about.  The thoughts in my head come right out of my mouth, “Wow, Davis.  This place is gorgeous.  What is it, apartments, condos?”

             
Davis shuts off the car, looks over at me with his stunning green eyes, but he says nothing.  He turns away from me, gets out of the car and walks around to my side.  He opens my door and stands looking down at me.

             
“Davis, what’s wrong?  Why won’t you talk to me? I thought you said we needed to talk?”

             
He reaches in, grabs my hand, and pulls me up out of the car and into his arms. Davis warmly breathes into my ear. “Lizard…Baby… you and that chatter…you are KILLING. ME.”  This makes me laugh with relief and amusement. He continues, “You have got to stop talking or you are going to have me so hard, we’ll never talk. I won’t be able to tell you all I need to tell you.”  He finally smiles.  Oh, he’s not mad or upset.  Thank god.  I’m just turning him on.  The thought tickles me.  I can turn him on by talking in my strange excited way.  He must really like me…Love me.

             
“No more talking,” Davis murmurs slowly in my ear with mock seriousness, “from you anyway.”

             
“I’m shutting up now.”  I then make a motion with my hand in front of my mouth,  like I’m locking my lips with a key

             
“Uh huh.”  With that Davis scoops me up in his arms and carries me into the vestibule of his building.  He sets me down and never taking his eyes off of mine, reaches down to take my hand.  He then tugs me gently to follow him up to the second floor.  Moving to a door toward the front of the building he sets me down and tells me, “This is me,” and points to the door with the number 2B.

             
Entering his place, I am shocked.  This is definitely not a college student’s home.  There is a small entry way spilling into a large open space.  At the front of the room are two large floor- to-ceiling bay windows separated by a large wall with a flat screen television over a fireplace.  Out of the window you can see Forest Park.  There are two comfy-looking couches in chocolate brown and a large chair with an ottoman facing the fireplace.  Across the large space are a set of french doors that are slightly open.  An elaborate open kitchen is behind a large granite-topped island with barstools in front.  Between one of the sofas and the island, a bit off to the side, is a dining room table with seating for eight.  I wonder how much more there is to this place.

“You’re rich.”  It comes out as sort of a question and a statement.

Davis looks around the room and then at me, “My parents are well off.”

“I always wondered about the new car and expensive watch and stuff.  Other than that
, you don’t come off as wealthy.”

“Like I said, I’
m not wealthy, my parents are… All of this,” he gestures around his condo, apartment, whatever it is, “is…I don’t know, something between taking care of me, a bribe and guilt.”

“I don’t get it.” I say
, puzzled.

“You will.”
Davis takes my hand and walks me to the large chair with the ottoman.  He sits me down in it and then sits on the ottoman in front of me.  There is tension in his beautiful face.  His eyes seem dull, the usual spark extinguished in them.  “I’m going to tell you everything, but I don’t think I can sit by you or touch you while I do.  It will be too easy to distract myself and you.  I’ll never get through it.”

I admit, I’m a little hurt that he can’t
be near me.  It worries me a little.  Davis moves across to one of sofas, away from me.

“My brother
Cole and I were best friends.  Really close.  I am only 15 months older than him.  We did everything together.   Toward the middle of his junior year of high school, Cole changed.  He was usually happy, a good student, a good boyfriend to Kathleen.  That’s right, Kathleen was Cole’s girl.” Davis clarifies the last part when I make a face. “Suddenly, Cole started sleeping all day, missing school, telling our parents he didn’t feel good.  He’d stay up all night, out with friends we didn’t know well.  He started ignoring Kathleen.  Defying our parents.  You can imagine this did not go over well with the current Lt. Governor and possible future candidate for governor of Illinois.  I admit, at first, I didn’t pay much attention to the differences.  Even though we were close, I was a tied up with my senior year.  I was focused on getting into college, and of course, my social life.  I didn’t have or want a girlfriend, but there was no shortage of girls to hook up with.”  Davis shakes his head and looks in my eyes apologetically.  “One night, I heard Cole come home late, actually early in the morning.  I heard him finally go to his room.  It got quiet, so I thought he had gone to sleep, but then I heard him crying.  Not gentle crying. Loud, heaving sobs.  That wasn’t usual at all for Cole.  I went to his room.  He didn’t say anything when I went in and sat on his bed.  He was fully clothed, lying in a ball, hugging a pillow.  I asked him what was wrong.  Do you know what he said?”  I shake my head no.  “He said he didn’t know.  I didn’t understand how someone could be that miserable and not know why.  I asked him questions about school, Kathleen, his schedule.  Again, he said he really didn’t know, only that suddenly everything seemed difficult.  It was difficult to get out of bed.  Difficult to talk to Kathleen.  He said he was working hard to feel happy, but he wasn’t happy out with his new friends.  It was just a distraction, something different, but even that wasn’t working anymore.  I didn’t know anything about mental health at the time.  I wish I had, because I might have been able to help him.  My parents and I found out later, too late, that Cole was bipolar.”

“Too late?”  I ask.  “You mean, the accident?”  I say “the accident” because I have an idea of what is coming next, but I don’t want to guess.  I want Davis to tell me.
  His expression is not one of surprise when I say “accident.”

Davis continues, telling me the whole story.  Cole continued to go downhill.  His parents tried to get him to a psychiatrist, but he refused
, saying it would get better.  He wouldn’t allow his parents to put him on medication.  That junior year was just hard.  He missed a lot of school.  Kathleen started coming over about an hour or two before Cole’s late afternoon/evening wake-up time.  He was cold to her.  She would try to talk to him, to get him to go somewhere with her.  He would tell her he had other plans.  Plans that they later found out included going out and “self-medicating” with his newfound friends.  Davis and Kathleen started spending the time before Cole would emerge together, worrying about Cole, plotting ways to help him.  Kathleen was over at their house waiting on a night in early May.  Davis’ parents were out of town at a benefit and would return in the morning.  Cole did his usual.  He woke up, paid only the most cursory attention to Kathleen and then took off.  Kathleen was upset and crying telling Davis that she didn’t know what else to do and she thought maybe she should break up with Cole.  Davis held her and comforted her.  Nothing more.  They fell asleep together on the sofa in Davis’ parent’s family room.  Cole returned at around 9:00 in the morning and found them asleep together.  He went ballistic.  Started accusing Kathleen of “hooking up” with Davis.  Saying that was the only reason why she was always over at the house.  He verbally attacked Davis, using every instance of Davis’ promiscuity against him as evidence that he was sleeping with Kathleen.  Davis and Kathleen both tried to calm him, telling him none of what he thought was true.  Cole could not be reasoned with.  He ran and locked himself in the garage.  Davis knew the family guns were in there.  He didn’t think Cole would go that far, but he couldn’t take any chances.  Chasing Cole to the door, just as he locked it, Davis turned to Kathleen and ordered her to look on the key hook for keys that might fit the garage lock.  Davis tried talking to Cole through the door, but Cole wasn’t answering.  All Davis could hear were things being frantically moved around.

“After that, everything happene
d very quickly,” Davis elaborates.  “When I recall it, it’s in horrifyingly slow motion, but at the time it was mere moments.”  Davis’ voice is full and heavy.  I have tears welling up, but I am looking up trying to keep them from falling.  I return my gaze to Davis.  The pain in his face is transparent.  This is so devastating for him to recall.  I stand to go to him.
              “No, stay there.  I need to finish.  Let me finish first.”  Davis exhales.  There is a small moan of sadness along with it.  I sit back down.

“Kathleen never found the key.  I became desperate, so I kicked at the door.  I just kept kicking until I made a hole large enough to reach through and unlock the garage door.  I opened the door to
see two things:  The outside garage door opening as my parent’s car drove in and Cole, standing at the back of the garage.  He had one of my father’s handguns and was loading it.  Cole leveled the gun at me, screaming that I had stolen Kathleen away from him; that nothing was worth living for.  He said a lot of things that weren’t true and didn’t make sense.  That our parents were trying to send him away, that an angel told him.  None of his delusions were true. I was scared, but I stepped toward him…”  Davis is crying, but determined to continue.  I want to stop Davis, stop the painful story and hold him.  I know he won’t let me, so I stay in my chair,  captive to the story.  “Cole fired the gun…he fired it… at me, but it didn’t hit me.  My father in those few moments had gotten out of the car, run to the back of the garage and moved toward Cole to disarm him.  He was too late, so he stepped in front of the gun, just as Cole fired it at me.  He caught it by the barrel with one hand and moved the gun down.  The bullet hit him in the spine. He fell to the floor.  I ran to my father.  There was so much blood and he was so pale. I knelt over and held him.  All Dad said was, ‘The gun, get the gun.’  I was just beginning to comprehend that he meant get the gun from Cole.  I looked up and the gun was still pointed down at my father and me.”  Davis can no longer contain his anguish.  He is standing up pacing and crying.  My poor Davis.  “Cole was weeping, talking and crying harder than I’ve ever seen anyone in my life….he…he put the gun in his mouth and, Biz, he…Oh, My God…he…shot himself.  In front of all of us. Mom. Kathleen. Dad. Me. Cole killed himself.” 

I don’t
care what Davis told me anymore, I can’t stand to see him standing on the other side of the room, so alone.  I rush over to him.  He stops his pacing and holds me with eyes.  It’s a look I’ve never seen from Davis.  He is shattered.  He carries this around with him all the time.

“Oh, my god, Davis.  You’ve been through so much.  Oh my god.”  We are both heaving and crying, holding tightly to each other.  I don’t know how, but I
somehow move us to a sofa.  We sit there.  Me trying to assimilate all the information.  Davis trying to stop crying.  As we slowly calm, I gather the courage to ask, “What happened next?”  Maybe it will be easier for him to tell me more if I am holding him.  I know it will be easier for me.

Davis slowly, in stops and starts between sobs and heavy exhalations, finishes the story.
“It’s all a fog.  Mom or Kathleen called 911, I don’t know who.  I stayed in the garage, holding my dad and talking to him to so he’d stay conscious.  I just sat there holding him and occasionally looking over at my brother’s dead body.  There was so much blood.  Some gray stuff.  I tried not to look, but I kept glancing over.  Eventually, the police, an ambulance and the coroner arrived.  I was moved to the house by the police.  I must have been in shock, because my memory of the next few hours is very spotty.  My mother, Kathleen and I answered a million questions, as my father was stabilized and taken to the nearest trauma center.  Cole’s body was removed by the coroner.  The police eventually left.  The media was not far behind.  It was a nightmare for all of us.  Biz, we didn’t know.  We didn’t know how sick Cole was.  We just had no idea he could have a psychotic break.”  I am feeling incredibly guilty.  I have to let Davis know that I have mental health issues.  I am sure he won’t want to deal with that again.  I can’t let this, us, go on, if it will hurt him in anyway.  I just have to find the right time.