The Best I Could (14 page)

My hands left her waist, but I didn’t back
away from her.

“This isn’t rejection,” I pointed out.

Why the hell was I saying that? Of course, it
was.

“I know,” she replied. “I shouldn’t have done
that.”

My body disagreed with her on so many levels.
“I don’t know if I’d go that far …”

Her brows rose.

I cleared my throat. “Damn it, Tansy. You’ve
got too many issues. We both do.”

She gave me a weak smile. “You can’t forgive
her, can you?”

The girl could change topics
of conversation faster than I could keep up. There were only
two
hers
she knew
about. “Who? My mother or my fiancée?” I asked,
confused.

“Both.”

My breath left me, and with it, my resolve.
“So, we’re back to me now?” Laughing, I shook my head. “You like to
do that, you know. Change direction. You do it with your sister,
too. How often have you done that? How often have you helped those
closest to you? Enough to hide your problems? Enough to make them
think there’s nothing wrong with you?”

Tansy’s face changed, her expression
twisting. “Fuck you!” she spat, standing.

“You were just going to,” I said calmly,
standing with her. She walked away from me, her back going rigid
when I added, “And I wanted to.”

She froze, turning. “Then why did you stop
me?”

“Because when you worship at the Church of
Eli, you do it with a clear head.” I studied her. “You didn’t kill
your father, Tansy. He did that to himself.”

Her whole face crumpled. “I
stayed with him. I took him to the liquor stores. I filled his
medications.” She gazed at me, her eyes hard. “I even drank with
him, Eli. Because I needed it, too, at the time. I
needed
it! I needed to
forget that my mother was gone, that I wasn’t in school anymore,
and that my father didn’t want to live. He just didn’t want to be
here.”

“You’re angry,” I said matter-of-factly.

She didn’t answer.

“I
would have been angry,” I told her. “I would have been furious
as hell that he didn’t want to try.”

She ran her fingers through her hair. “I
should have stopped him.”

“Maybe,” I answered, startling her.

She was spiraling and lying to her wasn’t
going to make it any better. She needed to face her guilt and
overcome it.

“You’re not that hot,” she said suddenly.

Again with the misdirection.

A startled snort left me. “What?”

“You,” she gestured at me. “You aren’t that
sexy.”

“The hell?”

She shrugged. “This draw … whatever it is
between us. I don’t get it, I guess.” She shook her head. “Church
of Eli, my ass.”

Two strides, and I was in front of her, one
arm circling her waist, the other drawing her chin up. My lips
crashed onto hers, harsh and desperate. Short but effective.

“Say I’m not sexy,” I panted, pulling
back.

Her breath came fast when she whispered,
“Now, I know how to seduce you. That ego of yours is your
weakness.” Her gaze rose to mine. “And you taste like
cigarettes.”

I laughed, because let’s face it, she had me.
“I’ll start keeping gum on me.”

“Or quit smoking,” she suggested.

“I should,” I agreed, but I didn’t say I
would.

For a long time, we stood there, the shadows
deepening until the world was dark. It cloaked her, erased the
sunburn, the smeared eyeliner, troubled eyes, dirt-crusted clothes,
and mussed hair.

“You don’t have to forgive your mother,” she
said into the darkness.

“You’re the only one who thinks that.”

Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around my
waist. “I didn’t say you wouldn’t forgive her. Just that if you
feel forced to, you never will.”

“Says the girl with issues.”

“Replies the guy with issues.”

I couldn’t figure out why Tansy got to me,
why her troubled eyes dug their way past my walls. The no tears
were part of it, but there was also something else.

“You shouldn’t stay,” I said. “How about I
walk you to your vehicle.”

“Yeah.” She laid her cheek against my chest,
unsettling me. A quick nuzzle, and she was gone. Walking away.

I followed, edging past her.

Grass rustled. Crickets sang, the sound
rising. Frogs called from the pond behind us. Above, the sky was
clear, the ebony backdrop full of bright stars. Brighter than
they’d ever been in Atlanta. The air was full of smells,
honeysuckle and trees. Summer.

Gravel crunched, grass whipping my legs.

We stopped outside a van at the end of the
drive.

Tansy climbed in, and shut the door. Her
window was rolled down, and I pulled out my lighter, the moon too
obscured by the trees to produce much light.

Flame danced between us, and I found myself
saying, “Hey, do me a favor, roof girl.”

Bathed in the orange glow, she looked older,
the dimness drawing circles beneath her eyes and hollowing her
cheeks.

She licked her lips. “Yeah?”

“Let me be that roof, okay? If you feel like
you need to jump, come find me, all right?”

I couldn’t take back the words once they were
out there, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

“Only if you do me a favor,” she
countered.

“Yeah?”

“Stop seeing me,” she whispered.

Starting the van, she backed up, turning the
wheels into the drive before speeding into the night.

“Too late for that,” I told the air.

In the wild, animals always noticed the weak,
either helping or destroying them. They depended on the strong.
When the strong died, confusion ensued. Battles for dominance took
place. The strong, when injured, often licked their wounds and hid
their frailties. Until it was too late. More attention should be
paid to the strong.

Turning away, I stomped up
the drive. There was a shower in my near future, and quite frankly,
I needed to fucking get myself off. And I needed cigarettes, which
I didn’t have.
Damn it all to
hell.

But first, before I did anything else, I
walked into the cottage guest room, peered at the familiar white
punching bag anchored from the ceiling, and sighed. I’d chosen the
color for a reason. Black and red words covered it.

On a dresser next to the door, a coffee cup
sat, my permanent markers resting inside.

“Thought of everything didn’t you, Pops?” I
asked the room.

Grabbing a black marker, I
approached the bag, twisted off the lid, and wrote
Tansy
.

Tansy

The clock radio read 11:15 p.m.

My grandmother was sitting at the kitchen
table when I walked into the house, a pair of reading glasses
perched on her nose. A stack of paperwork rested in front of her, a
cup of tea steaming next to it.

“It’s still a decent time, I guess,” she told
me, not bothering to look up.

Removing my shoes, I dug my toes into the
carpet. “Is that the stuff from the boxing club?”

She scribbled, ignoring me, her back stiff
and unyielding. Unease trickled down my spine. I watched and
waited, recognizing her posture for what it was—trouble.

Setting her pen down, she leaned back in her
chair, peering at me over the frames of her glasses, and said, “You
know, there’s one minor disadvantage to living in a small town.”
Her eyes darkened. “I got a call from a friend who told me she saw
the clinic van at Lockston Orchard tonight.”

Heat suffused my face, climbing from my neck
to my cheeks, and I was suddenly grateful for the sunburn.
“Oh?”

Hetty removed her glasses. “Please tell me
it’s not the worst case scenario. With the court appointed guy no
less. I said be young, Tansy. I didn’t mean go looking for …
stuff.”

Air whooshed out of my
lungs, the euphoria I’d been feeling escaping with it. Eli Lockston
could be a real bastard, but he
saw
me. He saw the holes in me, and he didn’t seem
disgusted. Better yet, he didn’t lie to make me feel
better.

“I’m not looking for anything,” I assured
her. Stepping forward, I set the van keys on the bar. “Just
friendship. Eli is surprisingly a pretty decent guy.”

“So you did go see him?” Hetty frowned. “I’m
not sure I want—”

“What about what
I
want?” I
interrupted.

Blinking, she massaged her forehead. “Tansy,
Eli Lockston doesn’t have a good history.”

I stared. “So having a good history is a
requirement for being someone’s friend? If that’s the case, I’m a
terrible buddy. You’ve seen me right? How many parents would let
their kids hang out with an eccentric high school dropout?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Hetty
protested.

“No, but it’s true.”

Rather than disagree, Hetty murmured, “You
have an excuse. He doesn’t.”

The roar in my head that had driven me to
seek out Eli in the first place returned. “You don’t know that.”
Hetty didn’t know about his mother, or about his former fiancée.
Pulling a chair out, I straddled it, my chin resting on the wooden
back. “You’d really judge him because of his record? No questions
asked?”

Hetty leaned forward. “You’re putting words
in my mouth. I never said I judged him, but you don’t go over to a
man’s house and stay this late, especially one you barely know,
just to be friends.”

“Why not?” It was a sincere question.

Pursing her lips, she blew exasperated air
across the table. “You’re not going to make this easy, are
you?”

“I haven’t done anything
wrong.”
Other than seek out a guy with a
“history” and try to seduce him.
Eli wasn’t
the problem.
I
was.

Hetty glanced at the paperwork next to her,
worry lines caving in around her eyes and lips. “You’re starting to
sound like Deena. You can’t just go somewhere without letting me
know first.”

My heart clenched, my gaze meeting her
anxious eyes. I would have taken her hand, anything to soothe her,
but that seemed too personal somehow. Too soon.

“You can’t touch her, but
you can hug and kiss Eli?”
my brain
screamed.

“Shut up!”
I told it.

“You’re right,” I conceded. “I’ve gotten used
to doing things on my own. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Hetty’s face softened, but her eyes
became firm, “things have changed now.”

“How much?” I asked seriously, a touch of
defensive wariness creeping into my words. “Are you saying I can’t
choose who I’m friends with? Or are you simply asking me to tell
you before I go see them?”

“Don’t start being difficult, Tansy. Please,”
Hetty begged. “Deena is difficult enough. This hasn’t been easy for
any of us.”

Really?
I thought.
You didn’t lose your
father! You didn’t sit with him and do nothing! You didn’t listen
to his stories about Mom, constantly reliving them through him! You
didn’t fucking beg God for some kind of deliverance!

Guilt drowned me, shame over my selfish
thoughts reducing my words to a whispered, “I’m not trying to be
difficult.”

Reaching out, Hetty patted my hand. “I know
that, and I’m not trying to be hard on you.” Her hand dropped. “I’m
not going to ask you to stop being friends with Eli, but you can’t
just go over there.”

“Okay,” I breathed, hoping it would stop her
words.

It didn’t. “He’s a twenty-year-old man with
DUIs.”

I stood, the chair scraping against the
floor. “And I’m a young woman whose been raising her younger sister
while taking care of her brother and broken father.”

She stood with me. “I haven’t forgotten that,
Tansy. I just don’t want to see you throw away your life now that
you’ve finally gotten it back.”

It’s not the same
anymore,
I thought.

Rather than say that, I nodded, letting her
draw me into a hug before plodding down the hall to my room.

Hetty’s dog, who’d been lounging on the couch
in the living room, followed me, shoving my door open and entering
before I had the chance to push her out. Jumping on the bed, she
circled, and then settled into a staring heap where my feet would
have been.

“She doesn’t know,” I hissed at Snow, my door
clicking shut behind me. “She doesn’t know what it was like.”

Memory upon memory lashed me.

I stumbled onto my bed, a storm of thoughts
sinking a damaged ship. My fists pummeled my stomach, my throat
working to fight back sudden nausea.

Mom was dead. The funeral was over, the
drive back to Atlanta full of chaos and confusion. At fourteen,
despite not having a license, I’d been forced to drive after Dad
pulled off onto the side of the road. Jet refused to take the
wheel, his grief too strong. Or so he said. Wailed, actually.

Folding a blanket, I sat on it, readjusting
the seat and pedals so that I could reach them. Even so, my body
was stretched to the limit, my head aching by the time I pulled up
at home.

Wan-faced and sullen, Dad trudged through
the house and fell onto his bed. He remained there for days staring
at the wall, taking just enough food and water to keep us from
panicking before disappearing into himself again. A beard grew, his
red-rimmed eyes watering until they were bruised and swollen.

Darkness. Daylight. Darkness.

The sun climbed up the wall, brutal slashes
pressed through closed blinds, and then trekked back down it again.
A stale stench rose from Dad’s sheets.

I didn’t know what to do.

“Dad, you’ve got to get up,” I begged.

Down the hall, Jet sobbed. Deena railed at
God, at life, and at nothing at all.