The Other Fish in the Sea (49 page)

I jumped up out of bed, not caring that I was without a stitch of apparel, and reached him just before he closed my bedroom door in my face. “Wait, Tris—”

“I’m not doing this. Goodnight,” he told me, putting an end to anything I might’ve been about to say, and left me standing there naked, shocked and alone with tears brimming in my eyes. Oh and only being half-tucked into bed, which I would eventually find out actually kind of hurts.

*****

The next morning I woke up and found Tristan in the kitchen.
 

“Um, can we talk?” I asked a little sheepishly and without really looking at him. I’m still not sure what I did to make him so mad, and I’m hesitant to tell him that because he really seemed to think it should’ve been obvious. So, now I’m back to being unsure of myself.

He sighed in resignation but answered, “Yeah, but not right now, okay?”

“Oh, um, alright…but why not now?”

“Because we don’t really have time to get into it, Camie…I don’t wanna have this particular conversation carry over at school, and honestly, I could use a little more time to cool off,” he explained, giving me two very reasonable and rational reasons for postponing what might be a strained dialogue.

“Ar—are we okay?” I asked, beginning to have a minor panic attack with the realization that I might’ve screwed up in a much bigger way than what I previously thought and that we might
not
be okay.

“Yeah, we’ll be good…we’ll kiss and make-up tonight after school, alright?”

Thank God
.
 

I spent all of Tuesday looking forward to that kiss and thinking that if everything goes well during our conversation, maybe I’ll find out what make-up sex is actually like.

I freaking
hate
being so radically wrong.

Everything seemed kinda normal when Tristan picked me up from cheer practice, even if we
had
been a little standoffish towards each other during the day at school, but by the time dinner was over, I couldn’t get over the very disquieting feeling that Tristan was now applying his inordinate amount of self-control and discipline to just being in the same room as me. Jillian kept looking back and forth between us like she was waiting for Mt. Vesuvius to erupt, although it wasn’t until after she went to bed that I really started to have visions of what happened to Pompeii in 79 AD.

I was sitting on the couch in the family room, watching TV and waiting to talk to him about last night, when Tristan came in carrying a glass and a can of 7Up and handed me the glass. Everything in his expression and body language was practically screaming rage so that’s what I’m blaming for stuttering and my hand actually shaking when I took the proffered beverage from his.

“Th-thanks. So, um…c-can we kiss and m-make-up now?” I asked with a nervous smile, trying desperately to lighten the tension in the atmosphere and not reading the seismic messages Tristan’s eyes were putting out for what they were. Which was essentially a message of danger in the utmost and had I known that, I would’ve treaded much more carefully. Or, just run from certain annihilation.

“Of course, only if you’re
sure
you want to though,” he replied with false courtesy ringing in his voice.

“I—well, yeah! Of course I do!”

“Great! Drink up then…you’ll need it,” Tristan told me, sarcastically enthusiastic.

I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what his deal was, but he was making me intensely nervous so to stall for a moment, in which I hoped the bubbles would quiet the nauseating butterflies in my stomach, I took a long drink of my 7Up only to find it wasn’t 7-Up. Well, some of it was. Mostly, it was gin.

Aw fuck.

I gasped and spluttered and spit out what hadn’t already made it’s way down my esophagus, and then I looked at Tristan through my guilty tears, realizing I was about to become one of the peasants of that long ago destroyed city in Italy. And just so you know, the tears aren’t
only
from feeling guilty…gin is gross.
 

“Tristan, I know you’re mad but, it’s really not what you think…” I began, but he very rapidly and very quietly erupted.

“I am not mad so don’t even
pretend
to know what I think, Camie, because you haven’t got a fucking clue.”

“Will you at least let me explain?” I begged.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m done. Besides, I’m really not up to hearing anything that would justify why you felt the need to drink behind my back right before suggesting something that is the equivalent of whoring yourself out just so you can attend a goddamned high school dance,” Tristan said, his words running over me like molten rock, burning me through and through. And once again, he left me alone with tears pouring from my eyes.

Once I got upstairs and into my bathroom, I threw up. And yeah, that could be the gin I wasn’t able to keep from swallowing, but I really feel the more plausible explanation is that I think Tristan just broke-up with me…

26.

The Perfect Storm

The weather Wednesday was a glaring reflection of my life. It was dark and foggy, and it rained on and off all morning and day. At one point, right before lunch, thunder could be heard, however, the lightning that always accompanies the sound was ominously absent in the dreary sky.

Wanting to avoid any kind of emotional scene in the morning, because come on, I’m not very stable at the moment and I knew I’d break into tears the instant I laid eyes on him, I chose to leave the house early and walk to school by myself. I even took the long and soggy way through the park and the school’s soccer fields so Tristan wouldn’t pass me on his way. Thanks to the inclement weather, I was actually able to avoid him and all my friends up until fifth period.
 

Sitting next to him during class could be said to be uncomfortable at best but not unbearable, which gave me some small hope that all wasn’t quite lost. Jeff and Kate weren’t oblivious to the fact that there was something going on between us, but neither of them really had any idea of what that something was until Jeff started in with teasing Tristan after the bell rang dismissing us for lunch. And his teasing…? Well, it hit the nail so squarely on the head you’d think he’d been spying on us with Jillian’s audio surveillance crap.

“So, give me an idea of who’s in the lead with the dance…you still holding firm or has Camie been weakening your self-proclaimed insurmountable defenses?”

Tristan’s response was to glare murderously at Jeff and shake his head in disgust and then he stalked off across the abandoned upper-quad into what looked like a bona fide deluge amidst the chilling sound of thunder. Mine was to turn the opposite way and head for the shelter of the library; thankful I had the torrential rain to conceal the fact that I was practically hyperventilating and bawling.

“What’d I say?” In the heavy downpour I could barely hear Jeff’s sincere question of surprise.

When dance started, I was once again reminded of being a ticking time bomb. Both Kate and Melissa, who’d obviously either picked it up on her own or was enlightened as to my current emotional state, approached me carefully and with compassion Kate asked, “Camie, what are you guys fighting about? We’ll understand if you don’t wanna talk about it but, it’s just that you look pretty miserable.”

 
I looked at her and sighed, valiantly holding back my tears. “I—Well, it’s just dance drama and I don’t really feel like getting into it right now,” I told them, not quite lying but thinking I’m not even sure
I
understand what’s going on, and that if he and I
aren’t
broken-up (Hi, God? If you’re listening, please let me be mistaken about being broken-up.), it would behoove me to keep my mouth shut on all this as a matter of maintaining our relationship’s privacy policy, because Tristan obviously hasn’t told Jeff anything.

“Oh, okay. But if you change your mind, let us know. I mean, when you two fight everyone knows it’s only a matter of time before you guys end up in some kind of public pornographic display of atonement, so we’re here for you if you want any help speeding up the process,” Kate giggled, not really comprehending the depth of my misery after all.

I never thought I’d wish to be a porn star but, I’d totally court an X rating today if it meant Tristan and I could just kiss and make-up like he said we would yesterday morning.

When I got back to the locker room I sent a text, which the in-person answer to had me figuring my career in porn wouldn’t be taking off any time soon.

Me:
what do u want 4 dinner? :-*

“You and Jillian eat what you want, I won’t be there. Oh, Melissa? Can you give Camie a ride home after practice today?” Tristan said after school in reply to my text, barely sparing me a glance and hardly even waiting for Melissa’s answer of “sure” before walking away and calling out his thanks over his shoulder as he did so.

Now, I get that he’s mad at me but, this is seriously becoming too much for me and I had to bite my tongue when I was tempted to confront him right then and there. Even though I know he’s probably justified in his anger, refusing to talk to me about it and denying me the chance to explain myself is wrong and it pisses me off too. Plus, being the recipient of his chilly civility hurts as much as what I imagine being plunged headlong into the waters of Antarctica feels like, and I couldn’t keep my eyes from prickling again as I watched him leave campus with Pete in the drizzly grayness the storm had lightened to.
 

Cheer practice was called early due to the crappy weather and when I got home, I had to face another interrogation on what was going on except I was afraid I wouldn’t be allowed to pass on this one, as Jillian can be pretty damned persistent.
 

I was in for another surprise.
 

“So, I guess we’re on our own for dinner tonight,” she said when I walked into the house and unceremoniously dumped my stuff on the floor by the couch.

“Uh, yeah…how’d you know about that?”

“In addition to knowing everything, I ran into Tristan and Pete after school. Apparently playing in the mud isn’t something only pigs enjoy participating in,” Jill informed me with a small grin.

“Oh, okay…well I’m not all that hungry anyway, so feel free to eat whatever and whenever you want,” I told her while picking up my stuff again with the intention of going upstairs to do my homework in peace.
 

“I figured.”

“What?” I asked, stopping dead in my tracks and beginning to feel somewhat defensive.

“Look, I don’t have to be a genius (which she is) to know the two of you are in the midst of some kind of lover’s spat and that he’s royally pissed at you for spiking your own drink, but I’m not gonna ask for any details because I also know you don’t wanna talk about it until you talk to him. And I agree with you for keeping this between the two of you, but do the three of us a favor, don’t let this drag on for too long like you guys did back in October…not talking about it won’t be conducive to us playing happy family, you know what I mean? Also, I don’t think starvation will be beneficial, so if I make some pasta, will you try to have a few bites?”
 

Seriously, she surprises me almost daily.
 

“Yeah, I’ll try to eat a little…and Jilly, I know I need to talk to him, I’m just afraid he won’t listen,” I told her and started to tear up
again
. I swear I’m not usually such a crybaby…I must be PMS-ing or something.

“He will. And if for some unthinkable reason he won’t, you make him listen. And before you even start to doubt whether you can do that, quit it. You have to adopt some self-confidence or you’ll turn into a spineless shell of my sister and then you’ll only be one, small step from truly losing your self-respect and ultimately, yourself entirely. Now, if it’ll help cheer you up, I’ll do your homework for free,” my scarily insightful sibling said, making me laugh.

“Oh Jilly…you know, sometimes I just love you. And I totally appreciate your offer, but if I’m gonna attempt to maintain my self-respect, I should probably do my own school work,” I said, declining her version of a get-well card which earned me an “atta girl” smile and a wink.

When nine o’clock rolled around and Tristan wasn’t home yet, I started to think he wouldn’t be coming back at all. I was tempted to text him but I didn’t. I went up to my room instead and put a movie on with the intention of waiting up, but I didn’t do that either. I fell asleep. It wasn’t the sound of his car that woke me up shortly after eleven; it was the sonic boom of the thunderclap that had me sitting bolt upright in bed. If you’ve ever experienced a thunderstorm in Arizona, you’ll understand why I can say that anything less than one of those is minor in comparison and nothing to be alarmed about, but still, it’s unnerving to be woken from a dead sleep by something that sounds eerily similar to Zeus and Poseidon gearing up for a war in the heavens.

I allowed Ferb to resettle herself on the better half of my pillow and rubbing my eyes, I got out of bed to look out my window. When he got home, I have no idea but at least he’s here. Well, his car is anyway. I decided to go downstairs to see if he was actually here too, and as I passed Jill’s bedroom door on the other side of the hallway, the soothing sound of piano and violins being emitted from within had me thinking that my sister had found the secret to a restful sleep during a storm hidden within the haunting sweetness of Yanni’s music. I continued my journey downstairs to find the house was pitched in darkness aside from the porch light, the small light coming off the ice-maker in the refrigerator and the somewhat regular flashes of lightning that briefly illuminated the interior of the house.
 

I jumped (sans squeak) a little when I felt something brush against me and wind around my ankles. My eyes followed Phineas to the partially open door of Tristan’s room where she paused and looked back at me, like she might’ve been beckoning me to follow her. Before I knew I’d moved, I found myself in the doorway watching Tristan sleep. It was odd though…he was on his back. A couple minutes later and stifling a sigh so I wouldn’t wake him up, I turned to leave and this time, I did squeak when I jumped.