“I like you, Ryan. It’s not that I don’t, it’s . . .”
I squeeze my eyes closed. I hurt. All of me. Everything about me hurts in some way or another. “It’s Tasha, right?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I just wish you remembered. I wish you were here with me now, like this, but that you knew for sure you don’t love her, anymore.”
I take a breath while I still have one to take and after it’s trembling release, I wonder what happens if I never do remember?
I feel her hand on my bare chest. Above my heart. “It’s beating so fast,” she tells me.
I don’t respond and she lays her ear against it to listen to the sound. I breathe heavy out of my mouth and stroke her head and soft hair.
I lay there, eyes closed, and hold her until the pain subsides, which takes awhile, and then I lift her chin with the side of my index finger until our eyes meet.
“I love you, Paige.”
She smiles beautifully, thanks me, then drags herself upward until her lips are all but touching mine. “Can I save saying that back to you for awhile longer?”
“I don’t want you to say it until you mean it,” I tell her in honesty. “But I said it because I do.”
She smiles again and kisses me, and although my ego has been bruised, I can feel the love she’s not voicing.
TWENTY-SEVEN
On Wednesday Zane catches up with Lucas. Luckily, it’s just down the hall from the office so he refrains from beating him into a state of oblivion. He pins Luc against the wall, though, and breathes out some harsh threats.
I stand across the hall, double my fist into a tight ball and lift it high enough that it catches Luc’s attention. Hit him.
But he doesn’t. He looks away from me and gets called wimp and loser by some of the other students nearby.
Wednesday evening Dad corners me about football and as Luc passes, he grabs a handful of his own balls. Tell him.
But I don’t. I look away from him and get hauled downstairs to watch a rerun of a game.
As I lay in bed, staring at the darkness and trying to recover from the truly miserable evening, I pick up my phone, hit text and then select Luc’s name. I type out: This is not the same. Telling Dad I don’t like football is not the same as U letting Zane walk all over U.
I reread the words, move my thumb to the send button, then realize it’s a line of crock and hit delete instead. It is the same. We’re both afraid of something.
I get out of bed, flip on the lamp and then dig the art paper Paige gave me out from its hiding place behind my night stand. I take it with me to my desk and sit down wearing only my boxers. I select my favorite sketching pencil, think of Dad and start to draw.
_____
On Thursday I walk Paige to first hour and give her a quick kiss. I’d like it to be more than a peck, but kissing in the hall is not allowed. She smiles, gives my hand an affectionate squeeze and says, “See you at lunch.”
“Yeah, see you then.” I watch her enter her room then turn toward mine and find Scott watching me.
“You sure have been on geek patrol lately,” he says and starts walking along side me.
“Yeah, look, I’m doing it now.”
“Funny.”
“I thought it was.”
“You’ve pretty much become one of them, haven’t you?”
“One of what? A normal, decent person? I’d hope so.”
“Your brother is not normal or decent. He’s a freak and you know it.”
“No, I don’t know it.”
“It’s just a good thing Zane scared him into never coming to football again. I was about to have to get nasty.”
“Can’t stand the fact that he could show you up on the field any day, huh?”
“He’s really not that good.”
“I’ll tell him you want him to come back then. He’ll fit right in with all you clowns.”
Scott laughs. “Damn, I never had you pegged as a loser loving type.”
“He’s my brother, Scott. You have an older brother that you totally idolize, how would you feel if Trent treated you the way I’ve treated Luc? Especially at school?”
Scott becomes silent, and his eyes slope downward a bit. I’ve dumbfounded him with my question. I’ve dumbfounded myself, too, because Trent isn’t someone I’ve heard Scott talk about since I’ve been back. Yet he’s there, in my head, as if he’s always been there. I can see his face. I know he graduated two years ago. I know he played ball. And above all, I know he had a good relationship with Scott.
“Holy shit,” I whisper as a chill makes its course through me. “I remember him.” I eagerly search my mind for more memories – other knowledge that’s been hidden for months by my injury. But that’s all there is. I struggle, really trying hard, but can’t remember anything about Scott’s parents or if he has any other siblings. I can’t even recall where he lives.
I want to stop and think about this. Celebrate this small victory, but I have to finish driving home a point to Scott, so I’m forced to move on.
“I can’t make you be cool with Luc, Scott, but I can tell you that I’m trying to be a cooler brother to him.”
“Well, isn’t that just special?” Scott mocks me before increasing the speed of his pace and pulling away from me.
I watch him go. Watch him turn into our English class, and wonder if he’s really that cold hearted, or if he was just getting even because what I said made him feel uncomfortable.
Because of my leg, it takes me longer to get into class and take my seat, but when I do I glance over at Scott across from me. “So, what’s going on between you and Zane?”
He doesn’t answer, but without warning he forcefully slaps the top of my desk, making me flinch. “Why the F– did you do what you did, Ryan?” he shouts at me. “Nothing, and no one, has been the same since that night. Everyone has fallen apart, and it’s all your fault! All of it.”
He hardly has time to finish before Mr. Murphy is after him. “Mr. Degrate, I have zero tolerance for that type of language in my classroom. Find your way to the office, pronto.”
Scott clamors out of his desk, keeping a steady glare on me all the while. “Why the F– would you want to kill yourself, anyway? You had everything. Everything,” he hisses.
“Mr. Degrate! Out! Now!” Mr. Murphy is pointing at the door, and although the bell hasn’t rung to start class, there are plenty of students already in the room who are staring at us.
I don’t have an answer for his question, so I say, “I’m sorry I hurt you with my choice, Scott.”
I was being honest, and I was being humble, but my use of the word hurt has made him feel weak and vulnerable in front of the class. He immediately puts on a hard facade, expands his chest and says, “F– you, Ryan. You didn’t hurt me. You don’t have that kind of power.”
Mr. Murphy is about to blow a fuse at this point. With a face of fire, he marches down the row and tries to latch onto Scott’s arm and force him out of the room, but Scott jerks out of his grip. “I’m going!” he shouts in his face, then follows through with his claim.
There’s an awkward silence in the room once he’s gone, and even though Mr. Murphy asks if I’m alright, and I nod, it continues until the bell sounds.
After third hour, as I’m leaving my classroom later than usual because my teacher wanted to congratulate me on a good score, I pass a junior coming in, and I know her name. Or I think I do. I turn with her as she moves by me and I stare at her. “Mackenzie?”
She stops and looks back at me. “What?”
“Did we get assigned as partners for a biology project last year?”
“Yeah,” she says slowly.
I grin, give her a wink and then leave the class.
It’s a meaningless thing to remember, but it’s still remembering and it excites me.
I’m still feeling good as I make my way to the cafeteria for lunch. I’m limping my way down the hall when Tasha’s friend Chloe pushes off of the w
all she was leaned against.
“Hi, Ry,” she says and begins walking with me.
“Chloe.”
“So how’s the leg feeling?” she looks down at it.
“Definitely not the best it ever has, but at least I still have it.” I’m curious as to why she’s walking and talking with me. I want to come right out and ask her, but I also want to see how long it will take her to get to the point. So I play along with her small talk – answer her questions about school and my parents, and when we get to the door of the cafeteria I latch onto the handle and say, “Well, see you later.”
“Wait,” she says suddenly and puts her hand on my arm. “Will you do me a five minute favor before you go in there?”
“What?”
“Come outside with me.” She points over her shoulder toward the doors that lead out to the football field and bleachers.
“Why?”
“Please?” She pulls on me, and although it’s gentle pressure, I’m forced to take a step because I know if my weight gets too far off balance; it’ll really hurt me to get it back on track.
“Chloe, I don’t think . . .”
“Please? It’ll only take a few minutes,” she assures me and pulls me into another step and then another until we’ve reached the exit.
She pushes out the door backward and glances to her left which makes me look the same direction, and I see Tasha standing against the brick wall of the school.
Of course she’s going to be involved.
I look at Chloe standing in front of me and she tilts her head sideways, presses her palms together as if she’s praying, then begs me. “Just talk to her for five minutes. That’s all. Please?”
I glance back at Tasha, who’s watching me, then I draw in a deep breath and finish stepping out of the school.
“What’s up?” I ask her as I approach. I don’t get too close. I stop five or more feet in front of her and look around. Chloe has disappeared and we’re alone.
Tasha still has her back pressed against the building. She hasn’t moved. She’s wearing jeans that flatter her figure and a letterman’s jacket. It’s a little baggy on her and she’s tucked her hands up inside the sleeves to beat the chill in the air. It makes me wish I were wearing a jacket of some sort.
I jam my hands down into the front pockets of my jeans, as far as they’ll go, and study her. She’s sad again.
“I don’t want to lose you, Ryan,” she says quietly. “I’ve been completely miserable since you broke up with me.”
I want to laugh. I want to say, you’ll get over it, just give it some time. It hasn’t even been two weeks yet, and it’s not like we were joined at the hip before that, either. But I don’t say anything because she continues to speak.
“I’m sorry about the way I’ve been acting since you came back to school. I know I’ve been really sexual, but I only did it because I missed you so much, and thought it would make you want to be with me.”
“There’s more to a relationship than sex.”
“I know. I know. And I’m sorry, Ryan. I truly am. That day we went to the train tracks – that was us. That was the way we used to be before your accident. I just want that back.” Her eyes are brimming with tears. Her voice is soft and humble, and she seems genuine down to the core. “I was wondering if you’d give me another chance. Will you give me one week of all your time, and just see if you can like me again?”
No way. Paige will be long gone by then, and you can bet I’ll never get her back. I open my mouth to tell Tasha this, but as I do a tear falls from her eye. It trickles down her cheek and as I watch it travel, I am suddenly overwhelmed with love for this girl.
It shocks me! Hits me like a brick to the head and makes my stomach roll unpleasantly.
Oh good Lord, I really do love her. No. No! No, I don’t. I love Paige. And I do still love Paige, but now I have incredibly powerful feelings for Tasha as well.
I can feel how much I cared about her before the accident. How much attention I paid to her. How all-involving she was to me. She was everything. So very important to me. I can feel how deeply in my heart she was imbedded. The bond I felt for her. And worst of all, I can feel how much I’ve missed her.
This cannot be happening.
I want it to go away. I don’t remember events, places, or particular things done with Tasha, but I certainly remember loving her and I don’t want to. I don’t want to love her. I want to love Paige.
I feel faint. Hot and light headed. And I’m trembling. Trembling with the desire to touch Tasha. I fight like I never have before not to, but it’s too strong and I step forward and catch her tear with the side of my finger.
“I’m very sorry, Ryan,” she whispers, as another couple of tears fall.
“Don’t cry,” I tell her. Please don’t cry, you’re killing me. I dry away those tears too, and feel my gaze focus on her lips.
Do not kiss her! I order myself. Do not! I’m done if I kiss her. She’ll take me – heart, body, and soul – if I do. I love Paige. She’s who I want. She’s been nothing but kind to me. She was my friend when I needed one most. She’s supported me, encouraged me, helped me and made me laugh when I never thought I could. She’s true, and she doesn’t deserve this.
I tell myself all of these things, and from the depths of my heart I feel and believe it, but I ache to have Tasha.
“Will you, Ryan? Give me a second chance. Give me a week to make you love me again.”
You don’t need a week, baby. It only took one tear.
“I promise I’ll never hurt you again. I’ll behave myself and I’ll be what you want me to be. Please? Just say yes, Ry.”
I want to. I really do want to say yes.
I can’t stop staring at her soft smooth lips. My own are trembling and I feel them gravitate toward her. I tilt my head and lower my mouth closer to hers. She stays against the wall and I lean in until there’s nothing but a thin layer of air separating us.
Don’t do it. I close my eyes and Paige’s face forms perfectly in my mind. Don’t hurt her. I can smell Tasha. So sweet and now so familiar. It makes me tingle in a sexual way. I want to touch her. Want to take off her clothing and look at her. I want to lay her down and welcome myself home.
Don’t do it.
“Please, Ryan?” She’s so close I can feel her breath on my lips.
“I . . .” I swallow hard, open my eyes and use every single thing I have inside myself to push away from her. I can’t do it. I can’t hurt Paige. I love her too, and I need some time to think about this.
“No, Ryan, please,” Tasha begs me to stay and her tears flow at a quicker rate. She reaches for me. “Please stay with me.”
“I . . . I have to go.” And holy shit, it hurts to walk away! It hurts like a heart attack. It hurts worse than any leg pain I’ve ever had. It’s, honestly, almost more than I can bear.
My knees keep trying to buckle and drop me to the ground. And if she wasn’t watching – I’d let myself fall and I’d lay there, unmoving, until this made some type of sense. Because it doesn’t. I don’t get it. If my love for Tasha was this strong, how could I have forgotten it? And if I forgot it, why didn’t it just stay hidden? Why am I remembering it now?
“Why now?” My lower lip quivers as I whisper the question, and I have to force back tears that are burning their way up my throat.
When I reach the doors of the school, I know I can’t look back at Tasha. I want to, but I can’t. It will only make this harder if I do.
I keep my eyes down, yank open the door and step inside. I enter the lunch room, sick and dazed and drop to the bench next to Paige.
I can’t believe how right she was to worry about what would happen when I remembered how I felt for Tasha. I can’t believe she was right not to have made love to me.
“Ryan?” I hear her voice and see her looking at me with concern. “Are you alright? You don’t look so good.”
I feel like I might pass out, actually. I lean into her for support a
nd she’s there to give it. She latches onto my arm and pulls me against her body so she can stabilize me.
“Talk to me. Are you okay? Is your leg hurting?”
“I love you, Paige. I do,” I mutter.
“Well, thank you, but do you need me to get a teacher, or call your mom, or someone?”
I shake my head. I just need to breathe. I try taking in a deep breath, but it’s shaky. I lean forward and place my forehead on the table and Paige leans with me and pushes her fingers through my hair.
“You sure you don’t need some help?” Her voice, even though it’s worried, soothes me.
I draw in a few more deep breaths before I’m able to answer her question. “I think I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
Not entirely, but I nod anyway.
“Do you need a drink? You’re pretty hot.” She would know – her hand is still on my sweaty hair.
“Maybe.” I sit up more properly and she gives me the bottle of water from her lunch. I sip on it and focus on my breathing, and after a while I begin to realize that Paige and I aren’t the only ones in the cafeteria. The whole room is full of people. Among them is DeAnn who’s sitting across from me, wide eyed and staring at me like I’m on my death bed. Then there are the guys at the next table.
Connor is watching me without reserve. Jake is bouncing glances between me and Luc. And although Lucas is pretending not to give a damn, he’s leaned out over the table to see past Connor and he keeps looking at me.
“Ryan?” Paige says my name.
“I’ll be okay,” I say. I have a ton on my mind, but physically I do feel a little better. At least I don’t feel like I’m going to pass out any more.
She seems relieved, but still wants to know, “What’s going on?”
“Just freaking out. Been remembering things today.”
“You have?” I can tell by the look in her eyes that she wants all the details, but she doesn’t have time to ask for them before the cafeteria door flies open and Zane comes storming in.
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