Catching Tatum (17 page)

“After you, you know I got together with Stacy, right?” It took everything I had to not say anything but something inside knew I needed to listen. I nodded, and he continued. “She was kinda like you, another fun, carefree daredevil. She was so nice. I never cheated on you with her. I tried; it worked on other girls ...”

“Girls? There was more than one? How many?”

“I don't know … two, maybe ... for sure one, but I was playing a lot of girls back then. Stacy was the one who wouldn't let me cheat on you. We talked but she wouldn't let me touch her until you and I broke up ... I lied about it. I told her I broke up with you so I could be with her. We stayed together a long time. She was everything ... everything … beautiful, smart, fun. But she was really insecure, too. She always called me out when she thought I was cheating, which I usually was, but I lied about it. It was like she could sense it, but she always wanted to give me the benefit of the doubt. All I had to do was sweet talk her a little into believing she was it for me and she let it go.”

“Like I did?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“How can you say you liked us then?”

“I did. I really did, but … I'm not making an excuse for it, I'm just saying, I got away with it, so why would I not? I cheated and apologized and spun some lies and you took me back, and she did, too. It worked.”

I rolled my eyes at him.

“She caught me with another girl ... it was right after school. She was supposed to be working. I had this girl in my room, and Stacy came to surprise me. It's funny: as soon as I knew I was caught, I knew exactly which girl I wanted. The other girl didn't matter at all. Not a bit.” He shook his head. “She didn't. She was just this girl I'd been flirting with for months and finally won over. She was good but … she wasn't my girl. When my girl saw me with her, it killed me. I saw her heart break right in front of me. If it had been you, you probably would have thrown something at us. But Stacy wasn't like that. She was so soft and gentle, couldn't hurt a fly. She just stood there, ripped to pieces, and stared. She was crying ... ahhhh, I remember it like it just happened,” he said, tears falling onto his sandwich wrapper. He looked up to the sky to try to stop them, then lowered his head and pressed his index fingers over his eyes and told the rest without looking at me. “She didn't cry out loud … it was quiet … there was nothing ... no noise, just tears, the whole time we were getting dressed. Then when Amanda was getting ready to leave, Stacy finally talked. It was only a whisper. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I'll go.
’ No. I'll go. … No. I'll go …’

“They were the last three words I ever heard her say. I tried to go after her. She turned and left the room and ... like ... ran out of the house. I grabbed her arm but she twisted away. She wouldn't look at me or talk to me or anything, and she took off. I knew it was way worse than when she thought I was cheating but didn't have proof, but I figured I could get her back. I always got my girl back. I actually went back in and finished with Amanda. We laughed it off.”

I could only imagine how Stacy felt. I was glad that had never happened to me. He was right: I was more of a fighter. I would have thrown something like he suspected. Stacy had to have been beyond humiliated. I felt sorry for her. I felt sorry for me. Both of us duped.

“She texted me a little later.” He flipped open his phone and read it word for word. Somehow I knew even if he hadn't had it there to read he would have known what it said.

I loved you so much, Cole.

Ur all I ever wanted ...

I hope ur happier without me.

I will always love you.

“I texted back. I told her I was sorry, to call me, to talk to me.” He laid his phone on the bench and spun it to me; the noise echoed under the hollow metal table slats. I saw a string of one-sided, half-hearted texts from him, dated from years before, still saved. I read them quickly.

Babe, I'm sry. Call me.

Stacy

Babe

I'm calling you.

Why won't you answer. I'm sry. Stacy, answer the phone. Let me talk to you.

She refused to respond to him—good for her
, I thought.
I would have fought back with him, but that would have been playing his game. Why had he kept the texts all this time, though?

“I called her but she wouldn't call me back. Then I brushed it off.” His fists clenched on the table; his sandwich, half eaten, lay between them on its wrapper. “I should have gone over to her house ... I should have. I almost did but I didn't think anything bad would happen. I figured she was mad and she'd calm down and I could talk to her the next day and make her believe I was sorry ... Tatum,” he said, and lifted his face from his fingers and looked at me for the first time since he began. I saw the pain he was feeling. I actually felt sorry for him. “I still didn't get it. I figured she'd come around, that I was so good she couldn't resist coming back to me no matter what I did wrong.” He slammed both of his hands on the bench; the whole thing reverberated under the force. I jumped at the suddenness of it.

“I was so good. Ahhh ...” He slammed them again, lighter, nodding his head. “So good she couldn't live without me ... she killed herself.”

MY HANDS FLEW
to my mouth. That was his secret. Not my life in jeopardy; but hers, gone. I remembered Stacy. All of a sudden she wasn't the girl that replaced me; she was the cutest, tiniest little cheerleader on the squad.

“What?” was all I could say.

He nodded. “She watched those true crime shows with her dad. She knew the easiest way to do it. Her dad always worked late and her mom was at a thing for Relay for Life, so she parked her dad's truck in their garage, turned it on, took some sleeping pills and ...” He shook his head, like he still couldn't believe it happened. “Her dad came home first ... found her. Found his baby girl.

“They only had one kid. They put a lot of pressure on her to be the best at everything she did ... but they loved her. They were devastated. It killed them. She was always so bubbly and happy. I couldn't picture her killing herself.” Of course, I remembered how bad Cole hurt me—that wasn't even a year—but I didn't think I could ever kill myself over him.

“How long were you together?” I asked.

“Two years almost, from the time you and I broke up till ... till ...” He shrugged. “It's been four years and I think about her every day.
‘No. I'll go.'
She meant she was giving up. If she would have threatened ... she'd done that before ...” he said, looking at me, not making an excuse but begging me to understand why he didn’t go look for her. “She would rather die than be without me. I would have done something when she didn't text back if she had said something, but she didn't say anything that time. I didn't know. I thought she was mad and hurt and would come around ... like she always did.”

“But she never caught you before?”

He shook his head. “Not like that. Not in the act.”

“But you didn't go after her?”

“I should have. I would give anything to redo that day, but I can't. It just plays over and over in my head, all the things I could have done differently but didn’t.” He put his fingers to his temples.

“There were cops at the school the next day. It was weird because it was so early in the morning. I thought it was a fight or something but as soon as I got there they called me into the office to talk to them. My phone was blowing up but I couldn't get to it because they were asking me about her and about what happened the day before, if she seemed sad or depressed. I tried at first to play it off and then they told me why, and I was like
... ‘No way. No ...way
!'”

He lifted his hat by the bill and pressed his palms into his forehead while it floated in the air, then continued. “I remembered the way she left. So … done. Done with me, done with my lying, cheating. Done. They told me they had her phone so I knew they'd find my texts. I told them we got into a fight. I didn't say anything about Amanda or why, though. They thanked me then said I could go back to class or talk to one of the grief counselors they brought in. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I had my mom excuse me. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know.”

My phone vibrated in my butt pocket, rattling the bench a little. My instinct was to reach for it and check and I did before considering how wrong it was to check it. I didn't know the number, not that I would have answered right then anyway. I hit the button to send it to voice mail and flopped it on the table with a thunk, next to where Cole's laid, the image of his texts to Stacy dim but not faded to black yet, and asked, “What did you do?”

“I went there ... to her house. They didn't have any other kids. All they had was her ... I felt like I had to be there ... even though I was the reason. We did a lot with them. I even went on a couple vacations with them. You know how my parents were always gone or fighting? They weren't like that. I mean, they worked and stuff, but they were the coolest family. They always did family stuff together. They made me a part of it.” He shook his head again. “Her dad even talked to me after one of our fights about the way it is with girls and guys.” He grinned, remembering. “We were in their back yard throwing the ball back and forth. He told me girls were emotional; you had to take care of them like fine china. They were delicate and broke easily, but if you took care of them they would be beautiful and useful and valuable. He told me to take care of her. He told me he liked me ... he kind of scared me because he said he always wanted a son and I was the kind of boy he would have wanted ... but he said if I couldn't love her completely he would rather I break up with her ... I totally lied to him and told him the same story I told her: that the girl accusing me of cheating with her was making it up because she wanted us to break up. But I was cheating on her.”

I thought he was going to slam the picnic table again and braced for it, but he started crying, convulsively; his shoulders heaved and he choked on his words. I felt like he was telling me things he hadn't told anyone before.
Why me?
I didn't know.

“When I got th ... there ... her mom ...” He stretched his arms out a little. “Gave me the biggest hug. I felt her pain. I felt it!” He pushed at his chest. “It was so real ... Stacy was gone and I was like all she h ... h ... had left of her. I hugged her and cried too.” He continued but kept his face down. I knew then what he was doing. He was getting it all out ... all the stuff bottled up inside him ... all the guilt and grief. He saved the memories but had never opened them before. It was his time to remember. I didn’t know why he picked me to share it with but I sat there and I let him confess. “She tried to make me feel better. Her daughter had just died, and she was trying to comfort me. She told me Stacy loved me so much, that ... she didn't mean it. I didn't want them to hate me so I didn't tell them about Amanda, only that we had a fight. They had all their friends and family there ... with them ... but ... I couldn't leave them alone after Stacy did. But I felt so bad. I kept waiting for someone to find a note or for them to find out what I did. They never did ... never. And I keep pretending it was just a fight.”

“You keep pretending? … You still talk to them?”

“Every ... single ... week ...” He looked at me hopelessly. “I can't leave them. She killed them when she left. I killed her.”

“You didn't kill her.” I couldn't believe I was justifying what he had done, but I felt so sorry for him. He was torn up.

“I gave her the reason ...”

“You cheated on her ... but you didn't kill her. You can’t own that.”

“They said she had problems before with depression when she was a freshman. But I didn’t know. And now she’s dead and I’m supposed to live everyday like I’m not the reason she is.”

I didn’t have words. I sat with him in silence and let him compose himself. I looked at my half-eaten sandwich and I knew why he wanted to eat first. Neither of us had an appetite to finish.

After a long time he looked at me again, eyes red and full of guilt, but free of tears. “I don’t know why I told you all that. I haven’t told anyone about Amanda being there. I got away from there as fast as I could after I graduated. I haven't told hardly anyone about any of it. I try to be a better person now … but it’s hard.”

“You still cheat on your girlfriends?”

“NO! God as my witness, no. I mean it’s hard because I’m getting everything I want in life and hers is over. I haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“For real?” I heard his story but I couldn’t believe that.

“Yeah. I mean I’ve dated but I can’t get close. I’m afraid. What if it happens again?”

“It’s not going to.”

“Can you promise me that?”

“No.”

“And you have no idea how it feels.”

“Then do something about it.”

“What? I can’t bring her back no matter what I do. It doesn't matter how often I talk to her parents or how many times I tell other guys to treat their girl right. She’s never coming back.”

“She’s not, but …”

“But what?”

“I don’t know,” I said, helplessly, wondering what the burden of someone’s suicide would do to me. “Talk to someone.”

“No.”

“You talked to me.”

“I had to, I can’t explain it. I saw you at the field and it was like I had a second chance. I knew I had to.”

It was a heavy burden for him to have laid on me. I felt obligated to help him carry it once I knew. The worst part was that I felt bad because deep down inside I was glad that he finally got it. I didn't want Stacy to be dead any more than he did, but I knew he finally got it; he understood how he could crush a girl with what he said and did. It was far worse than any revenge I could have extracted from him. Had she done it in desperation or to hurt him? I thought of my parents, of her parents. They had to endure the pain of losing her. No boy was worth that.