Making Waves (35 page)

Tim was about a head taller than Taylor, and they were both the same lean, muscular build. But other than that, there was no resemblance in them. Tim was pale in the ghostly moonlight with his light hair and tee shirt gleaming. Taylor was as dark as the night. The moon was behind him and his face was in the shadows, but Tim's was so clearly outlined that I could see his jaw clench.

Then Tim spoke to him. “You ain't changed a bit in two years, Taylor.”

Taylor shuffled his feet, but he didn't take his eyes off Tim's face. “I wish I could say the same for you.” Taylor then turned and looked out over the empty field. “Thank you for coming, Tim. I really didn't think you would, especially not here.”

Tim didn't say anything, and Taylor stuck his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans as he said, “I've gotten to where I come out here a lot at night and just sit. Aunt Della goes to bed early, and I come out here.”

“How is your Aunt Della? I heard she wasn't doing well now, that she's been having some kind of spells,” Tim said. I could hear Taylor's deep voice plain as day, but Tim's back was to me so I had to lean forward to hear him.

Taylor shook his head. “She's not good. I don't think she'll be around much longer.”

“Is that why you came back here, Taylor?” Tim asked him.

It was totally beyond me how that stupid Tim could just stand there talking to Taylor like nothing had happened. And why in God's name did he sneak around like this and meet him? I held my breath as Taylor answered him.

“That was part of it. Tim—could we, I mean, do you want to sit down so we can talk?” His dark hair now caught the gleam of the moonlight, too, but his face was still shadowy.

“No. I'm fine.” I could barely hear Tim now.

“Are you, Tim? Really?” Taylor took a step toward him, but then he stopped.

Tim shrugged his shoulders. “I'm alive, ain't I?”

Suddenly Taylor turned from Tim, like he couldn't stand to look at him anymore. His face was clear in the moonlight, and I was surprised at the torment I saw there.

“Oh, God, Tim! Shit, man—I wish it had been me instead of you—I'd give anything if it had been!” Taylor's voice, that I'd always thought to be so snooty, was in pure agony.

I could see Tim shake his head, still standing there with his hand in his pocket.

“Don't say that, Taylor.” He seemed embarrassed by Taylor's outburst. I couldn't see his face but could tell by the way he hung his head.

There was the flash of a match as Taylor lit a cigarette. “There's one thing you've got to understand,” Taylor said as the smoke from the cigarette floated around them. “I swear to God I didn't realize how bad off you were until I saw you the other day—I swear it!”

This time it was Tim who shuffled around and then looked out over the field. “Would it have made any difference if you had?”

Taylor seemed startled, and he threw his cigarette down. He couldn't have taken more than two drags off it. What I heard from him next was so cruel I almost came out of the shadows after him—Taylor laughed.

“Well, I'll be damned, Tim! You haven't changed after all.” He lit another cigarette. I never knew he was such a chain-smoker. “One of the things I always liked about you, Tim, was your honesty. No bullshit, no melodrama like me. Just plain old Tim Sullivan.”

I'd forgotten Taylor's crazy way of speaking and the way he used long words. I never was able to figure out what he was talking about half the time, which always made me feel stupid around him.

“Let's sit down,” Taylor said again, and this time they walked over to the bleachers. I could see both of them plainer now, and they were closer by. I stayed in the shadows so they couldn't see me.

Taylor took a deep drag of his cigarette and leaned toward Tim. “How well you've always known me! And you're right—it probably wouldn't have made any difference, Tim. I went crazy anyway, just thinking of what I'd done to you, how I had ruined your life.”

Tim thought on that a minute. “I did wonder why I never heard from you.”

“Hell, man, you know why! I'm not strong like you are—I never have been. If I'd gone through what you did, I'd probably have offed myself. I thought about it, anyway. But I bet you never let that kind of thinking get to you.”

Taylor leaned back and smoked his cigarette, but his face was still twisted with pain.

“It's okay now. For a while, they thought I'd lose my leg. Anything would be better than that,” Tim said. “And my arm is lame and still bothers me a lot, but I can use my hand.”

Taylor turned to Tim suddenly, and his face looked real angry. “I wish to God you'd stop being so damned noble about it—you're going to make me puke!” he yelled. “I left you to die, you lost the scholarship and you'll never play football again. You're a cripple for life, and you say it's
okay
? What's wrong with you, Tim—did you have brain damage, too?”

I could have easily killed Taylor Dupree right then. Tim just sat there like the fool he is. I could've killed him, too. He should beat the crap out of Taylor while he has the chance, I thought. To my surprise, it was almost like Taylor wanted him to.

“I thought you'd beat the shit out of me when you got here tonight,” Taylor said furiously.

“That might have made you feel better, Taylor. But it wouldn't change anything, would it?” Tim said.

For a minute, it looked like Tim would have to anyway. To my horror, Taylor reached over and hit Tim on the shoulder.

“Come on, Tim. You say you can still use your arm—let's see you do it.”

Tim pulled away from him. “Lay off the crap, Taylor.”

Taylor shoved him this time, trying to pick a fight. “Come on, man—show me your stuff, like you use to.”

Taylor jumped down from the bleachers and ran out on the field, holding out his arms to catch an imaginary pass. I swear to God he must be drunk or crazy.

“Come on, quarterback. Throw me a pass,” Taylor said. “You got a famous throwing arm, all the scouts in the stands are watching—throw me a pass!”

The fool pretended like he caught a pass and then he ran back to Tim. “Which scholarship offer will you take, Mr. Big Shit? They
all
want you—Notre Dame, Michigan, USC—all of them.”

Tim looked disgusted finally. “Shut up, Taylor.”

Taylor held out his hand like he held a microphone. He was crazy as hell; I always knew it.

“Oh, please give me an interview, Mr. Big Shit. Tell your fans why you are still in this shitty little town instead of quarterbacking Tulane. Tell us what happened to ruin all your plans—to ruin your whole life!”

Taylor pretended to hold the microphone so that Tim could talk into it, and Tim knocked his hand away.

“Come on, Taylor. Crap.”

Suddenly it was like all the fight went out of Taylor. He sank down on the bleachers, right in front of Tim, and put his head in his hands. I couldn't believe my eyes—he was crying. His shoulders shook and his voice came out in hoarse sobs, like those of a little boy.

“I never meant for this to happen, Tim. I wish to God I could make it up to you.”

Tim put his head down in his hands, too, but he only rubbed his forehead wearily before turning back to look at Taylor.

“You can't change things once they happen, Taylor. I wish it hadn't happened either, but that don't change it. I really wish you could put it behind you, like I've had to.”

Taylor fumbled in his jeans pocket and took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. “Shit,” he said, his voice soft. “I didn't mean to break down like that, Tim. Not with all you've been through.”

Tim shrugged. “Ain't nothing wrong with crying, Taylor. I've done plenty of it myself.”

“God, I wish I had a drink. Let's go somewhere and get a beer, Tim.” Taylor was wiping his eyes on his sleeves. To my surprise, Tim smiled.

“One good thing—we could if we wanted to,” Tim said. “I never could go anywhere and have a drink with you—I was always in training.” That was for sure. Tim was such a prized athlete Coach made him train year-round.

“Yeah.” Taylor nodded. “And you were the only one who never broke training. I only remember one time. Do you remember that night?”

“Oh, yeah. I won't ever forget that night—I've never been that sick in my life,” Tim said.

I knew exactly what they were talking about—one of my worse memories. Tim and I almost broke up because I caught him coming out of Taylor's house the day after the championship game, so hungover he was pathetic. I'd been frantic with worry about him, and he had spent the night with Taylor. I knew for sure Taylor got him drunk, too, though Tim made up some story about Pleese Davis. But I knew Taylor was jealous Tim had been with me instead of him on the most important night of Tim's life. No, I'd never forget that, either.

Tim smiled again and looked over at Taylor. “Hey, you remember that dog me and you and Cat found when we were kids—the one that had been hit by a car or something?”

Taylor looked up at him surprised.

“Yeah, I sure do. Cat killed the damn thing pouring whiskey down his throat, trying to revive him. What on earth made you think about that?”

Tim shrugged. “I don't know. Now that you're back, I got to thinking about Cat. Do you miss her?”

“Oh, God, yes. I miss her—and you. Both of you, so damn bad these past two years.” Taylor ran his hand through his long, thick hair. He seemed to have himself under control now. “Tim? Can I ask you something?”

Tim nodded, and Taylor went on. “Are you going to take that scholarship of Miss Maudie's?”

Tim looked at him puzzled. “Who—oh, I guess Sarah Williams told you about that, huh?”

“Yeah. And I saw the sign you drew, too. Man, it is really good! I'd forgotten how much talent you have. But you could always do anything you wanted to.”

Tim shrugged. “I always liked to draw, but I quit once football got so important in my life. Funny thing is, they started me back in the hospital, in rehab. When I was learning to use my right hand again. I've been doing some drawing ever since.”

“I hope you'll take that scholarship, Tim. You could drive over to the university, not even have to move anywhere. Hey—maybe me and you could ride together. I'm planning on transferring there myself.”

“No kidding? That'll be great. It's something to think about,” Tim said.

Taylor ran his hand through his hair again, but even from where I stood, I could tell that he was more relaxed. I relaxed, too. I saw now that I may have been wrong to try and keep Tim and Taylor apart like I had. If I wanted Tim to get over the whole thing completely, he needed this chance to see Taylor and talk with him. Bad as I hated to admit it, it probably was the only thing that could help Tim put it all behind him. And in doing so, put Taylor and their friendship behind him, too. They had probably grown away from each other during these last two years. I knew for sure that Tim would never feel the same about Taylor and let him influence him like he had in the past. How mistaken I had been!

Tim even teased Taylor some, now that they were both more relaxed with each other.

“Man, I've been hearing all sorts of things about you and Sarah Williams,” Tim said. “She's something else, ain't she? I hope Donnette'll look that good at her age.”

Taylor laughed, shaking his head.

“All that stuff is not true—unfortunately for me. Ellis and Sonny spread that crap. Oh, I admit, I've got a tremendous crush on her and would give anything if there was any way …” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head again. “She's helped me more than I can ever tell you, Tim. She's one hell of a woman.”

Taylor glanced over at Tim and then continued, saying, “How does Donnette feel about you taking that scholarship of Miss Maudie's?” My ears perked up at that question.

Tim shrugged. “I don't really know yet. We ain't talked that much about it. Ever since you called me, I've been thinking so much about these past two years that I haven't thought about the scholarship, tell you the truth.” Tim studied Taylor before going on. “Donnette's been through too much with me lately, Taylor. I don't know how I would have made it without her being with me. So I definitely will not take that scholarship unless she wants me to.”

“But if she wants you to, will you?”

Tim looked out over the field, then nodded. “Yeah. I just might do it. I never thought I'd have another chance like this. Especially in art. It blows my mind. I'm kind of excited about it.”

I was glad they couldn't see me standing there in the dark by that smelly old locker room, because tears were rolling down my cheeks and I was smiling like a damn idiot. For the first time in two years, I felt relief. After all the pain and suffering we'd been through, it really was over now.

I started to step out of the shadows and go over to them, but I decided instead to slip back home and wait for Tim instead. Let him tell me all about this. I could hear him and Taylor's voices as they spoke softly, and I heard Tim chuckle over something Taylor said. I could cut behind them and they wouldn't see me.