**Kindle Edition**
Tough Love
Copyright © 2013 Marcie A. Bridges
All rights reserved.
Published by Hayson Publishing
St. Augustine, Florida
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Although based on actual events and the actions of real people, this is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark.
Mom & Dad – for being the hands that reached down when I was stuck on my knees
Carrie – from day one until now, thank you
To every Janessa – may you feel your wings long before they grow
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1 December, 1999
Chapter 2 Summer, 1989
Chapter 3 December, 1999
Chapter 4 Summer, 1991
Chapter 5 December, 1999
Chapter 6 June, 1991
Chapter 7 December, 1999
Chapter 8 July, 1991
Chapter 9 December, 1999
Chapter 10 August, 1991
Chapter 11 December, 1999
Chapter 12 August,1991
Chapter 13 December, 1999
Chapter 14 School Year 1991-1992
Chapter 15 December, 1999
Chapter 16 July 17, 1993
Chapter 17 December, 1999
Chapter 18 Fall, 1993
Chapter 19 January, 1994
Chapter 20 Summer, 1994
Chapter 21 December, 1999
Chapter 22 Summer, 1994
Chapter 23 December, 1999
Chapter 24 August, 1994
Chapter 25 Christmas 1994
Chapter 26 December, 1999
Chapter 27 Spring Semester, 1995
Chapter 28 Summer, 1995
Chapter 29 December, 1999
Chapter 30 1995
Chapter 31 January 1, 2000
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
ONE MOMENT IN time, that’s all I want. Just to relive one moment. Is that really too much to ask for? One decision changed my entire life, and my paradigm shifted. It was so catastrophic, my world shook to its core. July 17, 1993. That is my moment.
NATE AND I stood at the door and waved as my parents pulled out of our driveway. We were both happy that our modest three-bedroom ranch had enough space for our families to come visit once in a while. Christmas had been the perfect time to see my folks.
They left to drive back to Toledo about four o’clock that afternoon. With the wintry mix that was falling between our house and theirs, I wasn’t surprised when they did not make it home in the normal three-hour time span. The phone finally rang about 8:30 that night.
“I’ll get it,” I told Nate. “It’s probably Mom telling us they made it home safely.”
“Hello?”
“Hey, Nessa.” It was Aimee. “Are you sitting down?”
Oh man, those words were never good. I sank into a dining room chair.
“I am now. What’s the matter?”
“It’s Brendan. He’s in the hospital.” She was very careful and slow with her words, giving me time to process each sentence before starting the next. “He was throwing up blood on Christmas Eve. Honey, they’ve given him only three days to live.”
“Oh, god,” I whispered, eyes open wide, not blinking.
“I’m so sorry, but I knew you’d want me to tell you...” The silence on the other end of the phone was hard to take. There was more, I could feel it. Something she needed to say, but didn’t want to.
“Aimee, what is it?” I asked. “Tell me.”
She sighed before continuing. “If you would like to see him alive, you should probably come now.”
I hung up from our conversation feeling numb. This was it. Brendan was dying. I didn’t know what to think…what to do.
LIFE ENDED WHEN I was thirteen. Well, life as I knew it anyway.
My parents decided we needed a bigger house in our East Toledo neighborhood. My two older brothers didn’t seem to mind – they needed more space – but I felt like there was too much changing at the same time.
Steve was graduating from high school, Donny was getting his first job, I was finishing eighth grade. Sure, high school was going to be fun and all, but Macomber wasn’t my district school, so most of my friends would go elsewhere. Nonetheless, I was very excited to become a member of Macomber-Whitney’s class of 1993.
What I didn’t know was that one of my least favorite people in the world was ready to be in the class of ’93 as well. And I had just moved across the street from her.
Aimee Davis and I could not have been more opposite. She was the toughest girl in my old junior high, two years running. I was the epitome of the teacher’s pet: never in trouble, a model student and member of the choir. Her mom had been divorced twice, while my parents were celebrating their 19th wedding anniversary. She was tall, with a large frame and dark hair, while I was blonde and overweight for my otherwise petite size. We had nothing in common.
Except eighth grade English.
“I have assigned your seats alphabetically by last name,” Mr. Ulrich called out when the bell rang.
So I took a deep breath and moved to my new seat when he said, “Daily, Janessa.”
“Davis, Aimee,” I heard next.
Excited to meet someone new, I turned to watch her take the seat next to me.
“Hi, I’m Janessa,” I said with a smile.
“Yeah,” she replied.
Well, so much for that.
“You’re in eighth grade now,” Mr. Ulrich said. “There’s no point in wasting time. Get out paper and a pencil.” He passed out our books. Bending down to get my supplies, I had a direct line of sight into my new neighbor’s purse.
“You smoke?” I asked, aghast.
“Yeah, you got a problem with that?”
“N-No,” I stammered, turning my eyes back to my own business.
That was the last conversation I had with Aimee Davis in eighth grade English class.
I remembered all of this as I sat backward on the couch in our new house and watched her play 4-square with another girl from school. I couldn’t help but pray it would be Olivia who lived there and not Aimee. But when twilight came and the streetlights flickered on, it was Olivia who walked away while Aimee went up the steps and into the house.
I ran to my room and started writing in my diary.
A couple of days later, I was sitting outside enjoying the early June weather when a cute guy approached me.
“Hey, I’m Billy. I live across the street,” he said, pointing to the house where I had seen Aimee the other day. “Did you guys just move in?”
“Yeah. We used to live over on Oakdale Avenue, but we moved here because it’s bigger. I have two brothers, so we needed the extra room. Steve is eighteen, and Donny is sixteen.”
Billy nodded. “That’s cool. What’s your name?”
I smiled. “Janessa Daily.”
Of course, I was curious about Aimee so I added, “You have any brothers or sisters?”
“Just one sister, Aimee
. She’ll be 15 in September.”
“She went to East Toledo, right?” I inquired, even though I already knew that she had been at my junior high.
“Yep, and she’s going to Macomber for high school,” he told me.
I was dying inside! Could this get any worse? Even though the girl I hated lived across street now, I had been hoping she might go to a different high school. But no. She was invading that part of my life, too.
“Oh, wow,” I managed to croak out. “Me, too. Going to Macomber, I mean.”
Billy was smiling.
“I’ll let Aimee know about you and tell her to stop by or something. She’ll be glad to know she doesn’t have to ride the bus alone in the fall. See ya around.”
“Yeah, see ya,” I called after him.
Boy, was my diary going to get another earful tonight.
I wondered how Aimee reacted when Billy told her about me. She probably wasn’t any happier than I was.
I was sitting on the porch again a few weeks after meeting Billy when Aimee wandered over.
“Hey,” she said, standing on the porch steps. She shifted from foot to foot, and I thought she was as uncomfortable as I was.
“Hey,” I answered. I didn’t know what to say next.
“So my brother said you’re going to Macomber, too.” She leaned against the railing.
“Yeah.”
“I guess we have to ride the transit bus, right? I always walked to school. But Macomber’s too far.”
“It’s not so bad. I’m used to it because I rode the city bus to junior high every day. Plus my dad drives for the Transit Authority so I know most of the drivers,” I said with a shrug. “Want to ask him who ours is going to be?”
“Sure.” Aimee followed me into the house. “I’ve always wondered what this place looked like on the inside.”
I chuckled. “It is a pretty cool old house. C’mon, I’ll give you the grand tour.”
I showed Aimee all around the main floor and then she followed me up the stairs to the second floor. Directly at the top was my parent’s bedroom, and from there we walked down the long narrow hallway toward my room.
“That is Steve’s room,” I told her. “Donny’s is over there. And this is my room.”
Once inside, she looked around and spotted my cassette tape collection. She walked over to them and started listing what she saw.
“New Kids on the Block, Barry Manilow, Debbie Gibson, Bon Jovi. That’s an interesting mixture of music. Don’t you like classic rock?”
I shook my head. “I don’t really know much about classic rock,” I admitted.
“Well, I’ll just have to teach you then,” she said.
We left my bedroom and went downstairs to find my dad. He was in the living room watching football highlights on television.
“Hey Dad, this is Aimee. She lives across the street. Guess what – she’s going to be a freshman at Macomber, too.”
My dad stood up. “Hello, Aimee. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Thank you. You, too,” she said.
“Do you know who our bus driver will be when school starts?” I asked.
“I’m not sure right now,” Daddy said. “But I’ll find out for you.”
I kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad!”
Aimee and I went back outside. I couldn’t believe what was happening. The girl who I’d hated for a year was now sitting on my front porch swing.
The weather that July was a bit more mild than usual, so Aimee and I were outside almost every day. Our friendship grew over that summer that led up to our first year of high school.
One afternoon, I was on my front porch painting my toenails while I waited for her when a boy I’d never seen before rode up to her house on his ten-speed bike. Billy came outside and hi-fived the guy. They started a conversation while both smoked cigarettes.
With his back to me, I took in the appearance of this stranger. His auburn hair was very straight. There were two earrings in one ear and three in the other, one of which hung down to his shoulder. I could tell, even from across the street, that his clothes were filthy a mess and riddled with holes.
Yet even with all of these things stacked against him, he was cute. There was something that wouldn’t allow my eyes to turn away.
Then he looked at me. I turned away as quickly as I could, but it wasn’t fast enough. For the briefest of moments our eyes met, and he nodded in my direction, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth. I gasped quietly – wow, what a smile.
I continued to watch as he and Billy finished their conversation. The cute visitor got on his bike, stole another quick look at me, smiled again and rode away.
The moment he was out of sight, Billy was on his way over to where I was sitting.
“Who was that creepy looking guy?” I asked as soon as Billy was within earshot.
He laughed. “It’s too bad you think he’s creepy because he thinks you’re hot. He wants to come back tomorrow to meet you.”
“Tomorrow?” I asked. “What if I don’t want to meet him?”
Billy blinked and shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, but he will be here. When my cousin Brendan makes up his mind to do something, he’s pretty serious about it.”
“Your cousin, eh?”
“Um, our uncle, actually. It’s complicated.”
“Well, I got nothing but time,” I joked.
Billy explained that his and Aimee’s grandparents had gotten a divorce years ago.
“Grandma Nancy – that’s my dad’s mom – married Grandpa when Aimee was just a baby. Grandpa already had four kids….”
“And one of them was Brendan,” I interrupted with a nod. It was not a question, but Billy answered anyway.
“Right. He’s the youngest, and then there’s Terry, Vivian and Rachel.”
“How old is he?” I asked.
“He’s 18, just two years older than I am. That’s not so bad, right?”
I gulped. “Uh, have you met my dad?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.” He took a second to finish his cigarette before putting it out. “Well, I’d better get going. I’ll see ya.”
“Yep,” was all I could manage to spit out. My head was reeling. Since when did someone use the word hot to describe me? It was flattering but – no, I couldn’t think of that. I had to focus on what would be best for me.
Even at 13, I was pretty sure a guy who was five years my senior was not in my best interest. There was no way my parents would approve, especially with the earrings and smoking. So I spent all evening thinking of how I could send this guy a strong message. A message that said I wanted nothing to do with him. I knew that was the right thing to do, but each time I thought about Brendan, I caught myself smiling. What was it about him that I couldn’t get out of my mind?
I thought of a plan that was sure to work. I would stay inside all day tomorrow. If Brendan came to my house, I would simply not answer the door. How hard could it be?
I woke up early the next morning. Sitting on the couch, just waiting to see if he would really show up, I couldn’t help but picture Brendan. He was cute, but he was definitely the type of guy my parents had always warned me about. And the age difference was huge, too.
With the rest of my family at work, I had to fend for myself for lunch. Billy hadn’t said what time Brendan was planning to stop by. I went into the kitchen, grabbed a banana and was on my way back to the living room when I saw him.
Brendan had just pulled up to Aimee’s house on his bicycle again, and I knew I had only minutes – maybe seconds – before he’d be walking across the street. Making sure all of the blinds were closed and the TV was off, I lay down on the floor.
After the first knock, I realized I wasn’t breathing. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and whispered, “Go away. Just go away and leave me alone.”
He knocked three more times before I could finally open my eyes and let out a sigh of relief. He was gone.
Still, even
after I watched him ride away, I jumped a mile when Aimee knocked on the door. Billy wandered over as we chatted on the porch swing.
“So, did you talk to him?”
“Lord, no,” I answered. “I didn’t even answer the door.”
Aimee held out her hand for a high-five.
“That was a good choice,” she said. “You really don’t wanna get mixed up with him.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I could tell that from just looking at him.”
“No, there’s more to it than that.”
“Like?” I asked.
“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” she said. “Just trust me.”
“Okay, I trust you.”
“Good girl,” she said.
“SO, DID THEY make it?” Nate wondered.
“Huh?” I blinked a couple of times, coming back to reality. I looked down at the phone and realized what he was asking. “Oh. It wasn’t them, it was Aimee.”
“How’s she doing? Everything okay?” My expression must have given away that this hadn’t been a casual, shoot-the-breeze phone call.
So now I had a decision to make. Should I tell Nate? Yes, I had to tell him; he was my husband. But did I have to tell him right now? No, I didn't. I needed time to process all of this, to figure out what it meant.
“Nothing, really. Just calling to say Merry Christmas,” I lied.
He smiled at me and then went to the spare room to spend some time on the computer. I was thankful for the time alone while I prepared for bed. Lying there, I remembered the first time I allowed Brendan’s charms to work on me. It was right after that horrible night in 1991, the night that had threatened my self-esteem and made me even more vulnerable to his charisma.
ONE OF THE coolest things about having a best friend is the way you adopt each other’s families. With Aimee, I called her grandmother ‘Grandma’ and she fought with my siblings the way she argued with her own.
Daddy even had a special nickname for Aimee. He called her ‘Me’. This started because of the way she would enter our house when she came over. We didn’t lock our door during the daytime, and Aimee always had an open invitation. She never knocked, but rather just opened the door and yelled out, ‘It’s me!’ to the entire household. Daddy called her by that name from that day forward.
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