Obsessive (11 page)

I look down at the table, avoiding the sight of her pale skin and openly challenging smile. The cards are the reusable kind, colored paper that’s been laminated and used probably a hundred different times over, by who knows how many old people with various deadly diseases. My skin crawls.

“Uh…I’m not sure if I’ll actually play. I’m supposed to meet someone here.”

“Sorry,” she shakes her head. “But you can’t go inside without buying a card. Those are the rules.”

I doubt that very much. But it’s not worth picking a fight with the mayor’s daughter over.

“Okay, well maybe I can just say hi to my girlfriend then. You might have seen her. She’s tall, blonde, looks like a Victoria’s Secret model?”

Alright, so maybe that was a little bit mean.

But instead of getting annoyed, like I wanted her to, Melody just laughs. “Nope, I haven’t seen anyone like that around.”

Right. Of course not. Because she probably thinks I’m lying, to try and make her jealous or something.

“She would’ve been with two old ladies.”

Melody stops smiling, and her eyes go wide. “You mean, the trashy one with the bad attitude? Yeah, they had to ask her to leave. She was drunk, and disorderly.”

Oh, no
.

“Oh, well that can’t be the girl I’m looking for, then. Sorry.”

I turn around and leave as fast as I can. When I get to the parking lot, Tash’s car is gone. It’s one of those rare occasions where swearing seems like the right thing to do. I curse a black streak as I unlock my car and start the engine. If I hurry, maybe I can catch her. Offer to drive them all home so Tash doesn’t drive drunk all the way back to Guthrie.

After quickly sanitizing my hands, I pull up the most direct possible route to Lazy Acres Trailer Park, hoping against hope that’s the way Tash decides to take. I figure they’ll head straight home, because where else would an 18-year-old girl take two old ladies at this time of night? Denny’s? As I drive, I keep my eyes trained on the side of the road, bracing myself for any signs of an accident.

Please. Please let Melody be lying. Please let Tash be okay.

I’ve been so focused on trying to numb myself to my fears, on trying to mentally beat my OCD into submission, that I let the situation with Tash fall through the cracks. I never even bothered to explain myself last night, figuring it’d be easier to just pretend like nothing had happened. But I could tell she was upset. I was just too busy worrying about my own issues.

If she dies, I’ll never forgive myself. I can’t lose her. Not now. Not when I’m so close to cracking this equation.

When I get to Tash’s neighborhood, I go straight to Margot’s trailer. I pull up in front of the pinwheel-covered rock garden, just in time to see Tash helping Nana out of the car. I breathe deeply, telling myself it’s all going to be okay. No one died. At least that’s something. Then I get out of my car and cross the street.

“Tash?”

She’s halfway up the ramp to the front door, and she doesn’t even look up at me. “I can’t talk right now, Grant. Just give me a minute.”

Her voice sounds really clear, but kind of irate. I hover by the open door of her car, trying to decide what she wants me to say. Something is wrong between us, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. Maybe because there are too many options to choose from.

As I stand there in the dark, frozen with indecision, a small, reedy voice says, “Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me out of this thing?”

I’m startled when I realize the voice is coming from the car. I bend down to see the older of the two ladies, Margot’s great aunt Dottie, sitting patiently in the back seat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Feeling a little out of my depth, I open the door and reach in to take her hand. For someone so skinny and frail-looking, she’s got a strong grip. I pull her gently toward the edge of the seat, helping her put her orthopedic shoes on the pavement.

“Now, go get my wheelchair out of the back.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I hurry to do what she says, worried that if I take too long, she’ll try to walk on her own and fall. At her age, she could break a hip, and it would be all my fault.

I unfold the wheelchair, thankful for my dad and him forcing me to take volunteer shifts in the ER last summer, so at least I know how to work one. I help the old lady into the seat and push her carefully up the ramp into the trailer. Inside, she tells me to help move her from the wheelchair into her armchair, and I do. At this point, I’m feeling kind of proud of myself, because I’m too busy trying not to accidentally break all of her bones to worry about sick old people germs.

But I’m also worried about Tash, because it feels like she’s been gone a long time.

“Should I go back and check on them?”

“What’s that?” Dottie turns her head toward me, and I remember Tash telling me that she’s mostly deaf and almost completely blind.

“I said, should I go and help?”

“Oh, no.” The old lady waves a hand in the direction of the hallway. “She’ll be back, once she finishes heaving that old lush into bed.”

Old
lush? I try to find a tactful way to bring it up. “I heard about Tash getting kicked out of bingo.”

“Tash?” Dottie cackles like a witch in a Disney movie. “No, Beverly was the one who got us booted. You’d think someone as old as she is, who drinks as much as she does, would’ve learned to hold her liquor. But my sister is as much of a lightweight as ever.”

Inwardly, I breathe a sigh of relief. Deep down, I don’t think I really believed that Tash would be that irresponsible, to drink and drive with a bunch of senior citizens in the car. But then again, today is a day for letting my fears have free reign.

“She’s a good girl,” Dottie says. “When I was her age, I was out getting blitzed on hooch and letting all
kinds
of servicemen feel me up behind the dance hall. But not our Tash.” She takes a breath, and I get the feeling I’m in for a story. “She comes over here almost every night, taking us old ladies out so we don’t grow into our chairs, making sure we have enough groceries, and talking to us so we don’t get lonely. You won’t find many girls like that, boy. Not today, not tomorrow. She’s special.”

I open my mouth to tell her I know that, but then I don’t. Because it seems rude to argue with someone that old. She waves me close, and I have no choice but to lean toward her.

“I’m going to tell you something, handsome. Everyone thinks I’m demented and weak because I’m a million years old. But I’m not a total loon. I see what’s going on. And if you ever make our Tash cry again like she did last night, I will beat you to death with my walker. Understand?”

Tash was crying last night? Why? Was it my fault? Of course it was. It had to be. How do I fix it? I need to fix it. Before she changes her mind, decides I’m too much of a freak. Before she gives up on me.

My throat suddenly feels tight, so I swallow. “Yes ma’am.”

She pats my arm with her liver spotted hand. “Good boy. Now fetch me the clicker. I want to watch the new Dallas on my DVR.”

When Tash finally emerges, I’m standing by Dottie’s chair, reading her the show descriptions so she can figure out which episode was the last one she ‘saw.’ She stands at the end of the hallway watching us, arms crossed, face unreadable.

“You’re still here?”

“Yeah.” I pick the right episode and hit enter, then pass the remote to Dottie, resisting the urge to whip out my travel bottle of hand sanitizer. I can wait to do that until I’m back in the car. I straighten up, rubbing my hands on my slacks.

“I uh… I was wondering if you wanted to come for a drive? With me?”

Tash sighs. “I’m really tired, Grant. It’s been a long day.”

I knew it. She’s mad at me. Now, if I could just figure out why. I have to get her alone, and make her talk to me.

“Please?”
Let me fix this
.

“Go on, girl,” Dottie says. “I’ve got my Life Alert right here, and Beverly will be fine. She’s just smashed.”

At the old lady’s insistence, Tash follows me out to the driveway. But instead of getting in her car, she turns the other way.

“Let’s walk over to my place instead. It’s not that far.”

“Okay.” I use the cover of darkness to use some sanitizer, then put my hands in my pockets and follow her down the street.

The walk is mostly silent, until just before we get to her house.

Then, she stops. “Last night really sucked, you know.”

Again, it’s a massive understatement. “Yeah, I know. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. It’s just…I saw him, and I started thinking about that night, and I was just…I didn’t know what I would do.”

I should have been stronger. I should have handled it. I should have been there for her, protected her. Instead, I couldn’t be what she needed. I was too busy letting the fear control me. Again.

“Yeah, me neither.” She turns and goes up the steps, unlocking the door. “You know, every time I open this door when I’m by myself, I keep my back turned? It’s stupid, because I know it wouldn’t make a difference if…but for some reason, I just feel like…at least I’ll see it coming this time, you know?”

My heart squeezes. “Tash….”

I can try harder to be normal. I can fix this. Please, let me try to fix this.

“No,” she shakes her head, then pushes her front door open and flips on the porch light. I’m momentarily blinded. “Don’t say you’re sorry again. I can’t take it right now, I really can’t.”

I climb the stairs and follow her into the house, watching as she takes off her jacket and drops it on the counter. All I want to do is hold her, but I know she won’t let me. Not now. I failed her. I wasn’t there when she needed me, why would she want me here now when she doesn’t?

“It kills me…what happened in May. You know that, right? I still kick myself, every day, trying to figure out what else I could have done, to make them do something. Or at least listen. It kills me that he’s still walking around. That there are more guys like him out there, just walking around.” I feel like punching a wall. “And there’s nothing I can… I can’t protect you. I can’t even keep it together when….”

I trail off, shaking my head. I’m so mad at myself, at the world around me, it’s hard to focus.

This must be what Tash feels like all the time, why she never wants to talk about it.

Instead, we just skirt around the details, because that’s what we said we’d do after May. The police station, the hours of interviews and embarrassing questions that ended up going less than nowhere…it was the first time I understood why it took her so long to tell the truth. But in the end, it didn’t matter. Tash tried to report a crime and ended up being treated like a criminal. And when I tried to help, everyone acted like I was guilty by association.

So in the end, we let it drop. It was her choice, she said. It was what she wanted, to move on.

But how are we supposed to move on when there’s this giant obstacle in our path?

“God, you’re such a martyr sometimes, Grant!” Tash spins to face me. “You seriously think I’m mad because you didn’t go all caveman gorilla and beat up some hometown loser? I’m mad because…when you left last night, after pushing me away again, without explaining why…and then you didn’t call me like you said you would, I didn’t get mad at
you
like a normal girl would. I got mad at
me
!” She laughs, but it’s not a happy sound. “I blamed myself, because you didn’t want me. Because, there will always be this fucked up part of me that thinks…” her voice cracks, and her eyes fill with tears. The next time she talks, her voice is thicker. “…If you don’t want to…it’s because you think I’m gross. Or, I don’t know…dirty. Because everyone else, that’s all they’ve ever wanted. And I know it’s wrong, and I know it’s crazy, but deep down I think I’m always going to worry…what if that’s all I am?”

Her words couldn’t sound more familiar if I was the one saying them. How many times have I asked myself that same question, just today?

What if everyone found out about my secret? What if everyone knew? What if they couldn’t see past it, if they thought I was crazy, or a freak? Worst of all, what if they were right? What if deep down, that’s all I am? A crazy person, who’s just really good at pretending?

I take a step toward her, reaching out. “Tash, I know what you mean, but that’s not you.”

“Yes! It is! That’s the thing, it
is
me. I’m fucked up, and I’ve finally started to accept that about myself. I’m damaged, and that’s okay, because I can learn to like myself this way. But you…you have so many more important things to do than stay here in this bullshit town hauling recycling and taking me to the movies, and dealing with my shitty, Trent-shaped emotional baggage. You should’ve left, Grant. You should’ve done the course at Duke. You’re obviously not on some quest to lose your virginity this summer, so what’s the deal? Why didn’t you leave when you had the chance?”

“Because I love you,” I blurt.

The second the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. Not because they aren’t true, but because they’re too heavy. Too soon. Too real.

I watch her face crumble. I don’t know what she was expecting to hear, but it wasn’t that. Angrily, she steps toward me, and her hands reach toward my chest, fisting in my shirt. But she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t answer my unspoken question. Maybe she’ll yell at me some more. Anything would be better than the waiting.

What if she never says it back? What if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if she tells me to leave, and means it?

I honestly don’t know if I could survive that, and I’m pretty sure that’s not just the OCD talking.

So I keep talking, keep
sharing
, like that will help. “I’m not just saying that to say it. You’ve made my life better…more
real
…for as long as I’ve known you. I’m pretty sure I loved you before I even liked you. You’re perfect. At least to me…or maybe
for
me, I don’t know. All I know is…you make me feel like I can just…be. I don’t have to pretend. And honestly, I don’t really care about anything else. I’m not sure I ever did, before now.”