by Imani King
"Yeah, I know," Aaron said, gathering scrambled eggs onto his fork. "That's why it's a dick move. I'm honestly not trying to give you shit - all of this stuff applies to me, too. I guess I'm just trying to be less of a dick these days. By the way, you got plans for today?"
I immediately thought of Tasha. "Not sure. Let me text Tasha and see what's up with her."
"Choose your words carefully, man."
"What?" I asked, confused.
Aaron just shook his head like I was the biggest idiot in the world. "Dude. It was our high school prom last night. You were passed out in the back of Jake's truck by midnight and we drove you home at around three. Tasha's probably not going to be too happy with you is what I'm saying."
Fuck. He was right. It was all coming back to me - the promise to meet her back in the gym after a brief interlude so we could both spend time with her friends. "Fuck," I said, out loud that time. "Fuck."
"Text her. Tell her you're a dumb asshole and that you'll make it up to her. And then make it up to her - and I'm telling you right now it's going to take more than flowers. Prom is a big deal to girls."
So I did as instructed and sent Tasha a text:
"Really, really sorry about last night. I'm a dumb, stupid, drunk asshole and I want to make it up to you."
When there was no reply within a couple of minutes I tried calling her but it went straight to messages. Maybe she'd had her own wild night without me? A little stab of jealousy or insecurity sliced through my stomach and I pushed the thoughts of what Tasha might have gotten up to right back down where they came from.
"Let's go for a swim," Aaron said, pulling his shirt off and heading out the sliding glass door towards his family's huge, sparkling blue pool. "She probably needs a little time to cool off. She'll get back to you."
But Tasha didn't need a "little" time to cool off. And she didn't get back to me. By six o'clock that evening there was still nothing - no call, no text, no e-mail. Nothing.
"She's pissed," Aaron said. "I mean, if you're going to date someone like Natasha Greeley, you're going to have to get used to that."
"What the fuck does that mean?" I asked, assuming he was insulting Tasha and feeling my blood rising slightly at the possibility.
"Calm down, Kaden, I'm not dissing her. It's the opposite. Listen to me. You're used to cheerleaders, right? Girls like Kelsey Richards? It's all any of us football players are used to. And you have to get it through your skull - those girls are basically groupies. I mean, Little Falls is full of them, I admit, but it's not like we've got anything else going on here other than football, right? Anyway, girls like Tasha - and Amber aren't groupies. You can't just do whatever you want and expect her to be there with a big forgiving smile on her face whenever you fuck up. And it looks like you fucked up. So maybe it takes her a day or two to cool down, but she will eventually. And then you apologize and you make it up to her. And the making it up part is key. Smart girls, girls with their shit together - they don't put up with bullshit, Kaden. If you screw up, you own it and you make it better. The sooner you learn that the better."
I laughed and slapped Aaron on the back. "Damn, man. When did you turn into such a wise old man?"
"Amber," he replied, plainly. "She kicked my ass, bro. And it needed kicking, too. That's the thing about those girls, the good ones. They kick your ass when it really needs kicking."
So I spent rest of the day with Sokolsky and neither of us felt like going out drinking again that night. His girlfriend was spending time with relatives an hour away and my girlfriend - I didn't know what my girlfriend was doing. We hit the grocery store, got some beer (not enough to do any further damage, though) and floated around on inflatable pool toys, relaxing.
Although it was never fully relaxing for me because Tasha was constantly there at the forefront of my mind. Aaron kept trying to reassure me but every unanswered text and every call that went straight to messages just contributed to a growing sense of dread that I was praying was due to paranoia or my hangover.
After spending another night at Aaron's I went home the next day. My mom found me sitting in the living room, staring at my phone and doing calculations in my head. The last time I'd spoken to her was, I guessed, around nine p.m. on prom night. That meant it was over forty hours - almost forty-eight hours, two full days - since we'd communicated.
"Hi, honey," my mom said, coming over and kissing me on the head. "How was it? It's Sunday so I assume it went well? Thanks for texting your father to let us know you were staying at Aaron's. Do you have any photos?"
"Mom, didn't you take enough photos?" I asked, recalling the interminable, almost two-hour long photo shoot before I'd left to go to the actual prom.
"Sure I did, Kaden," she said and I could tell from the slightly hurt tone in her voice that she'd caught the snappiness in mine. "But that doesn't mean I'm not interested in seeing more. I want to see a few of you and Tasha, too."
"Sorry, mom," I apologized. "I didn't mean to bite your head off. I think I'm just pretty tired. Can I show you the photos later?"
"That would be nice, honey."
The rest of the weekend passed by in a blur of confusion and stress - stress from not knowing what was going on with Tasha and from having to put up a front that everything was fine to my parents. Then Monday came and went. And Tuesday. Tasha never seemed to be at her locker, and the complete radio silence was ongoing. On Wednesday, I ran into Tasha's best friend Lena, just outside the gymnasium after gym class. I smiled but she blanked me, looking away and saying nothing when I went further and said hi. I could have walked away but her reaction just pissed me off. So I'd gotten way too drunk at prom and failed to meet up with my girlfriend at the appointed time. The way she was looking at me you'd think I'd murdered someone.
"Really?" I snapped, as Lena gazed into the distance, determined not to acknowledge me. I continued anyway. She wasn't deaf, she could hear me. "I understand if Tasha's upset with me but this is a little childish, don't you think? I'm the devil because I drank too much at prom?"
Lena deigned to look in my direction, running her eyes coolly over me. "Drank too much at prom?" She asked, one eyebrow raised disdainfully. "Is that what happened, Kaden?"
"Yes!" I replied, confused at her tone, which seemed to imply I had done much worse than had too much to drink. "That is what happened. And I just think you're being a little dramatic about it, is all."
"Dramatic?" She asked, locking her eyes onto mine. It was only then that I noticed. Lena wasn't being bitchy. She was furious. Her eyes were narrowed into slits and she was actually breathing quickly.
"What the fuck?" I asked, even more confused. "Why do you look like you want to kill me? Have I missed something?"
"You didn't see us, did you?"
I took a deep breath, determined not to lose my temper and come out looking like an immature asshole. "I didn't see you where? Look, you're obviously beyond pissed, I can see that. But Tasha isn't talking to me - as I'm sure you know - so if you want to tell me what the hell is going on here, I would appreciate it."
Lena continued, as if I hadn't said anything. "You didn't see us, but we saw you, Kaden. Tash and I, we went looking for you after you didn't come back to the gym for over two hours. When we did find you, you were all over Kelsey Richards. Had your tongue about halfway down her throat if I'm remembering correctly, didn't you?"
Oh shit. They saw that? Tasha saw that? "No," I said as my brain scrambled to find the right words. "No, Lena, that isn't - goddammit, that isn't what-"
"So that wasn't you? You didn't have your hand on her ass? You weren't kissing her? That's weird, Kaden, because it certainly looked like you."
Fuck. I could feel anger rising in my chest in response to her tone - at her obvious disinterest in hearing me out. "No!" I said, barely keeping my voice below a shout. "No, that is not what fucking happened, Lena."
"Whatever, Kaden. I've got to go to class now so you have a nice day."
And then she walked
away, leaving me red-faced and spluttering in the hallway. I called out to her to wait, to give me a chance, but she didn't even turn around.
I was so angry after that interaction, and my mind so unwilling to accept the underlying total fuck-up, that I just wandered the halls for a few minutes, breathing heavily and then, eventually, punching a random locker so hard the door came off the hinges. It was only then, staring dumbly down at my reddening knuckles, that I could wrap my head around the truth. Tasha had seen what had happened between me and Kelsey. She had no idea that I had been convinced it was her! The first emotion I experienced that wasn't anger was simply hurt. Tasha thought I could do that? That I would do that?
I had to talk to her. That was it, there was nothing else to be done, I had to see her face to face. And how the hell was I going to do that with her avoiding me and refusing to respond to any of my messages? I was going to have to go to her house. Yeah, I should have thought about it a little before blundering off to where she lived, but I was in a panic at that point, desperate to tell her the truth, to assure her that I hadn't intended to cheat on her in any way.
Chapter 15: Kaden
I decided I would drive to Tasha's house and wait for her to come home. No further thought than that came into it. I needed to speak to her and she was ignoring me, so the only possible thing to do was to go to her house. I peeled out of Reinhardt High's parking lot so fast the Suburban left rubber on the road and then drove to Tasha's house. It looked quiet inside, I couldn't see anyone, so I turned off the engine and settled in to wait for her to get home, convinced that all I needed to do was talk to her.
A few minutes later, as I was gazing down the street, waiting for her to appear, there was a series of swift knocks on the driver's side window. I whipped around in my seat to see Ray, Tasha's brother, standing there. His arms were crossed and he did not look happy. He tried to open my door but it was locked.
"Open the door." He demanded loudly.
I was bigger than Ray. If it came to it, I knew I could take him. But that wasn't going to happen, it wasn't going to come to that. Because I was innocent of what it appeared everyone close to Tasha thought I had done and as soon as I explained it to them everything was going to be fine again. At least that was the plan. I unlocked and opened the door and climbed out. Ray did not take a single step backward.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, eyeballing me hard. "I think you should leave."
"Wait," I said, holding up my hand and backing off, trying my best to look unthreatening and conciliatory. "Ray, just wait. Let me explain. I need to talk to Tasha. I need to-"
"I don't think you need to explain anything, my friend," Ray cut me off. There was no warmth in his voice, and up until then, Ray had been really cool with me. He'd never pulled any of that 'protective big brother no-one-is-good-enough-for-my-sister macho bullshit. "Tasha told us what happened. We know everything. There's really not much else to say, is there? I mean, come on man, you got busted and now you have to live with it. Now get the fuck out of here before I stop being so nice."
"No," I said. "Ray, listen. I'm not here to deny anything Tasha saw. I'm just here to explain. if I could just talk to her - explain what actually happened, then-"
"Who do you think I am?" Ray asked, cutting me off again.
"What?"
"Who do you think I am?"
I didn't know how to reply to that so I didn't say anything. Ray continued:
"You think I never got myself into any shit like this before Alisha? You fucked up, man. You fucked up and you're not going to be able to weasel your way out of it. I get that you're a football player and hey, I can even sympathize with you. This must be a new experience for you, huh? Getting rejected? Well, Tasha isn't one of your little cheerleaders, OK? She's not going let shit slide. You had your chance, you blew it. Maybe you'll even learn something from this, I don't know. But right now, you need to leave. You need to leave and you need to stop trying to contact my sister, you got that?"
Ray took another step towards me as he spoke and I took another step back. He took another step, bumping his chest against mine and I struggled to suppress the urge to shove him away.
"You've got it wrong," I said, not even caring how desperate I sounded by that point. "You're wrong. There's an explanation. I just need to talk to Tasha. I just need to talk to her for five minutes."
Instead of replying, Ray took another step, bumping into me harder that time. The fury boiling in my chest - at the injustice of the whole situation as well as the unfamiliar effort it was taking to hold back physically, an effort Ray in no way seemed to be appreciative of - rose higher.
"Back off," I said, quietly.
"What?"
I said it again: "Back off. Just, please, man..."
'Don't tell me to back off you little shit," Ray shouted, leaning in so I could feel the spittle as it landed on my face. "Don't tell me to back off on my own fucking property after you do my sister like that! I thought you might be trouble, you know. When she told me you were the quarterback at Reinhardt. But then I met you, you spent time with us, shared meals with us - meals that Tasha cooked! But you seemed like a stand-up guy, you had all of us fooled, not just her. But now I'm telling you - and listen to me carefully because this will be the last time I tell you - leave. Now. Get the fuck off our property before this gets a whole lot worse than it is."
When he had finished speaking, Ray put his hands on my chest and shoved me angrily towards the SUV. I shouldn't have reacted, but it was instinctive. Something deep and furious inside me came rushing up to the surface and I shoved him back. Then I swung at him and missed, doubling over as he got me in the ribs, causing me to stumble backward. He was stronger than he looked.
And that was it. I charged at him with all the righteous anger boiling inside my guts and knocked him back onto the lawn. I wasn't even thinking at that point, I was just in pure animal mode. I was raising my fist and struggling to hold Ray down when a thin scream rang out behind us. Both of us - Ray and I - turned towards the scream and I think we both knew who it was before we saw her standing there, her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide.
The look on Tasha's face brought me right back down to earth. I jumped off Ray and backed away, holding both hands up even as I saw, as if from the outside, how it looked.
"Tasha," I pleaded. "Tasha, wait, wait. Please fucking wait, this isn't-"
She flew at me, screaming, lashing out, hitting me with her backpack and her fists, screaming at me to leave, to leave her alone, to never contact her again. Tasha's words were worse than any blow Ray could have landed. All he'd done was enrage me. Tasha shattered my heart. The look of hatred in her eyes, the ice in her voice.
"How could I have been so wrong about you?" She sobbed, helping her brother to his feet. "I seriously - I don't understand. Kaden, who does this? What kind of person does this? What happened at prom wasn't enough? You have to come to my house - my house! - and attack my brother?!"
I knew it was done. There was nothing I was going to be able to say, not with Tasha in near-hysterics, crying and screaming at me at the same time as she was holding Ray back. It was the definition of an ugly scene. I felt my shoulders slump forward as it sunk in that instead of convincing her to hear me out, I'd actually just succeeded in making things much, much worse. Worse than they had been, and that alone was pretty fucking bad.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, shocking even myself at the sound of my own voice cracking. "I'm sorry. I didn't come here to - Tasha, I came here to explain. I'm so sorry-"
"Just go." She said, breathing hard. "Go."
So I turned around, partially so I could open the door to the Suburban and climb inside and partially so she wouldn't see the tears in my eyes. Behind me, I could hear the sounds of the two of them consoling each other and then their footsteps as they walked towards their front door. I had to say something. It wasn't a conscious choice, I just felt that something needed to be said. I couldn't just leave it like that. She wa
s just about to go into the house when I leaned out and yelled after her:
"I love you, Tasha. I love you! I only came here to explain myself!"
Did she pause before she walked inside or did I imagine it? I couldn't tell. And it didn't matter anyway, because a pause wasn't going to fix anything. I punched the steering wheel as I backed out into the street, swiping angry tears off my face. It was my fault. Fucking all of it was my fault. Kelsey Richards groping me - that wasn't my fault. But the rest of it was. I was the idiot who decided that doing shots of straight vodka at my high school prom was a good idea. I was the moron who had just tried to fight Ray.
I was shaking with anger the entire drive home, crying and not even bothering to try to stop myself, full of self-loathing and a feeling of utter futility. On the football field, that pride was a bonus. Coaches praised me for the way I never backed down. NFL scouts nodded with approval. And at eighteen years old I had just been given one of the most profound lessons of my life - that bulldozer shit doesn't always result in a win.
When I got home I went straight to my room and didn't come out for two days. Skipped school, missed a football practice, didn't eat. It was only on the third day, when my dad forced my bedroom door open and demanded to know what the hell was going on that I partially emerged from the deep, dark pit of despair I was in. It was awful. And it wasn't just awful because Tasha was gone or because I'd finally been made to pay for my recklessness and unwillingness to back down - it was awful because it was scary just how low I could go. Before Tasha, there had been a halo of invincibility around me. Kaden Barlow. Reinhardt High's quarterback, breaker of all the records, shoe-in for the NFL. I was the golden boy and soon I would be the king - everyone believed it. Even me. And then suddenly I'm in my room in the dark, raging at myself and the world and unable to give even a single shit about football or my 'career' or anything except Tasha Greeley and the fact that I'd lost her.
