Chapter Five

I can barely hug Amelia and Tyler goodbye.  My stomach just sinks.   Why don’t I just walk away from everything and start over again here?  I know I can stay with them until I get on my feet.  I would be ok.  So what if my career is completely skyrocketing, I’m traveling all over the world and learning more than I ever thought possible.  I could rebuild that again back here.  Soon.  I’ll come back soon.

“You don’t have to go, T” she says.  We look at each other knowingly.  Yes, I do.  “Listen, I’m outta here before I have a complete meltdown.  I love you guys.  Thank you for everything.  It helped.  Truly.  I’ll call you later.  See you at the Cape in a couple of weeks.” I quickly hug them both and dash into my car swallowing back the nugget that has risen in my throat.  I give them an I’m-totally-ok smile and begin my journey back to silence.

I haven’t looked at my phone since the beach.  I shut it off actually.  That will send a signal.  Act Don’t React scrolls boldly across my head.  My entire system is out of control.  My head is spinning and heavy as I drive.  So many emotions flood through me.  Anger, sadness, relief, fear, love, insanity, wreckage, chaos, exhaustion, trepidation, weakness, strength.  I swim in all of them.  It gets the best of me.  I turn on my phone.  1 more voice mail.  3 more missed calls.  6 texts.  I listen to the first voice mail.

His voice is calm.  Almost shyly chipper and optimistic, as if we’d just spoken hours ago and ‘this’ wasn’t between us. He’s pretending nothing has happened.  I’ve heard this tone before. “Hi.  It’s me.  Where are you?  Your car’s been gone for a couple of days, you’re not at the apartment and now I’m worried and you’re not picking up so just please call back and let me know you’re ok.”

REALLY?  WHERE AM I? WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN FOR ALMOST TWO WEEKS?  I know where he’s been.  That’s the most difficult part.  He’s done it before.  REALLY? YOU’RE FUCKING WORRIED?  I know this trick buddy.  Play on my guilt strings and incessant need to make everyone feel ok so that I HAVE to call you back so that YOU DON’T WORRY.  I’ve lost about 12 pounds in 9 days, I haven’t slept, and I’m now in fucking therapy – that’s FUCKING WORRY.  I stare at my phone in disbelief.  I know this game well.  We’ve played it many times.

I listen to voice message number two.  There are no words.  He’s driving.  He’s holding the phone up to the speakers.  And then I hear these words being sung through the phone:

Tell her not to go
I ain't holding on no more
Tell her something in my mind freezes up from time to time

Tell her not to cry
I just got scared that's all
Tell her I'll be by her side, all she has to do is call

Tell her the chips are down
I drank too much and shouted it aloud
Tell her something in my heart
Needs her more than even clowns need the laughter of the crowd.

Tell her what was wrong
I sometimes think too much
But say nothing at all
And tell her from this high terrain, I am ready now to fall.

Tell her not to go
I ain't holding on no more
Tell her nothing if not this; all I want to do is kiss her.

Tell her something in my mind
Freezes up from time to time.

Tears well up in my eyes.  It’s my favorite song by Del Amitri.  Our song.  He’s good.  I’ll give him that.  And as angry, frustrated and confused as I am, I can’t help but love him for a minute.  This is us.  Unhealthy fucked up us.  And everything about it is wrong but I’ve missed him so much, been so sick without him that there’s a relief that washes over me.  Maybe we will always be like this and maybe I can’t be helped and maybe that’s ok.  No, Tarah, it’s not ok, I snap back to myself.  This is not fucking ok.  This Tarah, is emotional manipulation and you’re falling for it hook, line and sinker.  My mind, heart, soul and instinct stand in battle with one another.  Defending and condemning.  This is what I do.  This is what we do. 

I listen to the third message.  His voice is now strained.  Heightened a bit. Frustrated.  “Well, now you’ve shut your phone off so it’s obvious you don’t want to talk to me.  I’m sorry.  I don’t know why I do what I do.  I don’t have any answers.  All I know is that I love you.  Call me.”  

Click.

Act Don’t React I keep whispering to myself over and over.  The red words streaming.  I put my phone down and continue to drive, lost in thought, memory, and music.  

It’s dusk when I pull up to my apartment.  My stomach writhing in knots.  Sunday’s used to be my favorite day of the week, I now dread them.  The hours are counted and marked by how quickly I’ll have to be back there.  I pull out my keys and unlock the door.  Of course he has a key, I say to myself as I look at the hundreds of sunflowers covering every surface of my tiny studio apartment.  Sunflowers.  My favorite.  

And there he sits on the stool by the counter postured for the reckoning.  He stares at me with curious anticipation as our eyes lock - looking at me like he did the first night we were ever together.

Act Don’t React, Tarah.