Call Me Crazy (16 page)

Candy suddenly bends over and at first, I think something is wrong but then I realize she is laughing, correction, hysterically laughing. She stands with tears from her laughter running down her cheeks. Several seconds later she lets escape a contented sigh, “Oh, man, that was so good. I mean, that was like something I would say.” She lets out a breath and another chuckle, “It’s a shame,” she says shaking her head.

“Tally might very well have said those things. If she did, she was lying to herself and me. There is no way she only thought of me as a summer thing.” I can feel my chest tightening as I allow myself to briefly consider it, but dismiss it just as quickly. I know that Tally didn’t think of
us
as
just killing time
.

“Damn it!” Candy snaps and stomps her foot. She sets her jaw and stares directly into my eyes. “I’m not going to let you leave here wondering, or thinking she didn’t care.” She leans forward and motions for me to bend closer. She puts her mouth close to my ear and whispers softly, “It may take a little bit for her to realize that she can’t live without you; she can’t breathe without you.”

Candy steps back and has her annoyed look back in place, she clears her throat and then points to the exit. “Do what you gotta do, Tonto! Personally I think she’s a squaw worth fighting for.”

“It usually helps to know who your opponent is,” I say, ignoring her references.

“Tally is fighting herself, and a past that might as well be plastered on a damn billboard, and you are fighting Tally.” She explains ticking them off on her fingers.

“I’m fighting Tally to have her?”

Candy’s eyes widen and then I realize how that sounded.

“You know what I mean, Candy. How do I fight her to keep her? Seems like a futile battle.”

“You know how we tell kids that they don’t know what’s good for them?”

I nod.

“This is one of those situations, only we’re dealing with an almost adult woman who has assholes for parents, only one friend she can trust, and self-esteem the size of the hairs on a flea’s butt.” She takes a deep breath and just keeps going, “Those things might not seem like a big deal, but there are other factors that can make those things unbearable. Now I’ve said way too much and if my niece finds out, she will gut me in my sleep.

I step out of my truck and out onto the dusty road the Taggerts live on. With the sound of the creaking door slamming closed behind me, I look up, and for the life of me can’t remember driving here. I remember Candy telling me to leave and shoving me in the direction of the front doors. She wasn’t unkind about it. I think she was worried that I was going to lose it. She wasn’t far off the mark. I remember getting in my truck and reading her letter again. I look down at my right hand and see that my knuckles are bleeding; I vaguely remember punching the dash board. But from there on, I don’t remember. It was like I was on autopilot.

I head towards the horse stalls, glad to be doing something, especially something that would take a lot of energy. Mr. Taggert let me know the day before that he had square bales of hay he wanted stacked. That was fine with me. Throwing something, even seventy-five pound bales of hay, was better than just sitting and thinking about Tally.

I was dripping with sweat
by the time I threw the last bale. It had worked for the most part; Tally had only come to mind every ten unbearable seconds instead of the excruciating five. What was even more ridiculous about my reaction to her leaving was that I hadn’t even held her hand; hadn’t kissed her, hugged her, or run my fingers through her hair. I didn’t even know what she smelled like. But that’s how strong our connection had been. Just being near her, listening to her talk and laugh, she was such a bright spot in my day. I was able to talk with her about my mom and I wasn’t afraid to tell her my fears, my anger, and my worry.

“Five damn days, Trey,” I growl into the empty barn. “Five days and I did exactly what my father warned me not to.” I close my eyes and hear my father’s voice. I respond as if he can hear me, I gave my heart to a woman who I believed could love me just as completely and she just might be the wrong woman.

She might be the right one the,
voice counters. My eyes snap open. There is no way that I just heard my father’s voice. No, I reason, it has to be because I want him here, need him here to tell me what to do.

When
the eagle goes hunting, he does not expect to catch his prey quickly. He is patient and he chooses carefully the one he will take. Then he watches, follows, and watches some more. This can go on for days. He is patient, waiting for the right time to swoop in and take it.

My eyes w
iden and my mouth falls open. I try to reason out how on earth my father’s voice just said something that my father would indeed say. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s said it to me before. “Dad?” I ask out loud, waiting for it. Several minutes tick by and still no voice. Deciding not to examine it right then, I decide instead to focus on what he said and what he is trying to tell me to do. It’s very straightforward, but also very eye opening. Tally is who I have set my sights on; she is the one, out of all the others, that I have chosen. He’s telling me to be patient; to realize that what we want the most in life does not come easily.

The revelation does not take the hurt away. The ache that has made itself comfortable in my chest is there still. But it’s given me perspective. Candy said that Tally couldn’t breathe without me, so at some point she’s going to need air, and that means she is going to need me. And whether she knows it or not, I need her.

Chapter 12

“Have you ever done something, and literally two seconds later realized
that it was the wrong something? That’s not when I realized it. I realized it the moment that I met Trey Swift. I realized that ever walking away from him would always be the wrong something.” ~Tally

“Tally, you’ve been sitting in that same spot since Running Eagle left. You have got to get up.”

I pull my head up from where I it lay on my knees. My eyesight is blurry from tears, so I blink several times before she finally comes into focus.

“I know. I’m sorry, Candy. I can go back to my room.” My movements are slow and my muscles ache from the intensity of the last few hours.

“What time is Nat picking you up?”

“The earliest she
would agree to was eight, and that was after begging.”

Before I make it to the door, Candy suddenly wraps me in a hug. It catches me off guard because Candy, like me, only touches out of necessity.

“I don’t do goodbyes. So don’t expect me to be standing outside waving to you, saying good luck, throwing rice, and what not?”

“Rice is for weddings, not leaving mental institutes, you old bat.” I’m trying to sound playful, but with my voice dry and hoarse, I only sound like an old smoker.

“Brat,” she mutters.

We step back from the hug at the same time and I see Candy’s eyes glistening. She looks away and wipes nothing from the wall. “We didn’t get to do all the things on the ‘really live’ list,” she pauses and eventually looks back at me. “You do them, Tally. You go out there and really live. If not for yourself, then for those of us stuck here, trapped in our minds. I know you’re scared that you will have to come back. You won’t. You’re young and you’ve started treating it so young. You fought the worst of it and you won.
Just stay in front of it, okay?” she takes a step back not realizing that she had moved closer to me. I see the pain and loss in her eyes and I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. Sometimes that’s best, to just not say a thing. I pat her gently on the arm and turn the door knob, just as I step in the hall, I hear her say, “I expect pictures, and I don’t mean boring ones with you and your friends painting your toes. Make’em good ones.”

~

It’s seven fifty in the morning. I have not slept at all and for some reason I can’t get my legs to stop bouncing up and down as I sit on the edge of my bed. I haven’t cried since I left Candy’s room last night. I don’t know if it’s a defense mechanism or if I have simply run out of tears.

I hear a knock on my door and jump up so quickly that I fall forward, but catch myself before planting myself face first. “
Stand up much?” I mutter.

I pull the door open slowly. The reality that I’m leaving has really sunk in. There is relief, a little, but mostly there is fear and the dull ache of love lost.

Nat’s smiling face is on the other side of the door. “You ready to blow this joint?”

Her perky voice and cheerful face make me want to vomit, preferably on her. Then we’d see how perky she would be. Holy crap! Did I just think that? I feel my heart speed up as I consider that maybe I’m not ready. Maybe I only seemed ready because of Trey.

With him I
felt.
Sounds weird I know, but before him, I was surviving,
just
surviving. The meds are working, yes. I haven’t been crying all the time, recent events notwithstanding. I haven’t had the urge to play ‘cut the crazy girl.’ I’m eating, sleeping, and socializing, even though it’s been mostly with the black sheep of the hospital. I’ve been doing everything they needed to see in order to release me. But I didn’t feel anything, not until him. In my letter to Trey, I had told him that I figured out what he gave me and I meant it. So why am I feeling like this if I have hope?

“Tally? Hello?”

I turned to look at her and realize that she’s asking me a question. Okay, Tally, I tell myself, put on your big girl panties, and, as Candy would say, add a garter just in case, and go back to your life.

“What did you ask?” I lean in so she knows I really am listening.

“Is this all you have? Just the one bag?” She looks mortified that I didn’t have a year’s worth of clothes to choose from every day.

“Yes, Nat, just the one.”

She stands up straight and looks at me, really looks at me. It’s a rare moment for her not because she doesn’t care, she’s just easily distracted.

Her lips tighten into a straight line and she pulls her shoulders back, “You’re going to be okay, you know. And I’m not saying that because I want you to be different or get over it, or whatever other crap your parents spew. I’m saying it because you are my best friend. We’ve
made it through tough times; we will make it through this.” She follows her statement with a curt nod.  

I’m touched and I know she means every word, but I know something she doesn’t. I’m tired of being just okay and there is only one person who makes me better than just okay.

I’m surprised when Dr. Stacey comes out of her office and gives me a hug. I’m going to see her once a week for a month and then she said the sessions wouldn't be so close together, so a goodbye isn’t really necessary. As Candy promised, she is nowhere in sight. I feel that absence already in my heart.

~

The drive to my house is a quiet one and I appreciate that Nat seems to know that I need that silence. As she pulls into my driveway, I gather my bag and purse, ready to climb out. Her hand on my arm stops me. She has tears in her eyes and she bites her bottom lip trying to hold it in. I know that feeling well.

“You okay?” I ask.

“I just want you to know that I’m so glad you’re home. And I don’t think any differently of you. You are still my Tally, whether you’re smiling or not, okay?”

I swallow back tears of my own. Apparently, I haven’t run out.

“Oh, and I bought a book.”

“A book?”

“About bipolar disorder. I don’t want it to be the elephant in the room with us, Tal. It is what it is. You have bipolar disorder and I want to know how to help you and when I can. I mean, I’ve read some of it already and I know there are going to be times that I can do absolutely nothing and that’s okay, but I won’t know if I don’t understand.” She’s talking fast which is something she does when she’s nervous. I’m looking at her wondering where my flighty best friend went. She squirms in her seat and once again, I’m just sitting in silence.

I say, “Thank you,” but it sounds so inadequate to my ears, “I mean it, Nat. I don’t want it to be awkward either. It’s going to be hard enough with my parents.”

The smile is back and though I can’t return it, I hope she sees the gratefulness in my eyes.

“It’s okay. I know. You have more going on than just your BP, and I have a feeling it has to do with a certain tall and yummy guy you met.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “I’ll talk to you about it. Just not today, okay?” I say tentatively.

“Okay. I’m here when you’re ready.”

Impulsively I reach over and pull her into a hug. I need this. I need someone who would accept that this is me now. She hugs me back and I hear her sniffle. The hug ends and there’s something different between us, something stronger.

“I’ll text you later,” I tell her as I climb out of her car.

“Sounds good.” She waves and backs out of the driveway.

I turn to look at the large house that my attorney parents bought, even though they only have one child. I love my parents, I do, but somewhere along the way they got caught up in the lawyer way of life; work too many hours, stay after and have a few drinks to unwind, wake up early to get to court or wherever they need to be, and repeat. It’s why they didn’t notice my slide into depression and it’s why they won’t be any help in what Dr. Stacey calls ‘shoring up.’ Basically, ‘shoring up’ is building a support system. Have people around me that I trust, that I can call if I get into a crisis situation, people that care. “Well, crap. I left all those people at the damn mental hospital,” I tell the empty yard. The humor lasts about ten seconds and then I realize exactly how alone I am.