Catching Tatum (21 page)

I'm proud of myself for not getting too impatient with him. I learned a lot in the middle with Parker, and I'd like to think he learned a lot from me, too. But that day, the first time the concept of living in the middle was ever presented to me, I was dying after forty-five minutes of waiting. There was a lake to get to, a place to see, a goal, a plan ... I had to get there, or at least move, to feel like I was doing something.

“Okay, okay, I got the middle thing, can we go yet?!” I begged.

He laughed at me. “All right, fine. You lead ... I'll follow.” He extended his hand forward. I looked to where the old road we were following carried on and had to face the dilemma that had already presented itself.

There were two roads. Just like the poem in my parents’ living room. Just like my mom's promise about life. Two roads.

“Which way?” I asked.

He shrugged. “You tell me. I'm going with the flow.”

“Do they both go to the lake?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, yeah. That's the whole point, right?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, the point is this: you and me, time together getting to know each other. It really tears you up, doesn't it?”

“Seriously, which way do we go?” I asked.

“Seriously, it doesn't matter—pick one.”

“Because they both get there?”

“Because it's like life. There's a poem by Robert Frost, ‘The Road Not Taken’—you ever heard it? He must have known someone like you.”

“Yeah, I know it by heart.”

Together we recited it out loud. I walked to him and sat down.

“So what you’re saying is, once we go down one, we can't come back to the other one?”

“It's metaphorical,” he said. “It's life: once you start down a path you can't take it back. We're already going down this path. We can go back to the beginning but we can't undo what's been done.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means it doesn't matter which one you pick, what this day was supposed to be and what it has become are different, we're too far down this road for it to go back to being a walk to a lake. You're supposed to go with it. I'm supposed to forget her ... so ... pick one. You lead; I'll follow.”

“But which one goes to the lake?”

“It doesn't matter, girl, we're here now, that's the past. It's a new thing all together. If we end up at the lake, maybe we can say it was always meant to be, but we don't have to get to the lake, maybe there's something else this day was supposed to be about all along.”

“Oh, my gosh! You drive me crazy!”

“Good to know it's mutual.”

“What do I do?”

“Simple; you already know,” he answered.

“I want to go to the lake.”

“Then guess.”

“Just tell me,” I begged.

“Nope. If it's meant to be, it'll be.”

“But we won't get lost?” I asked.

“I know these mountains like you know your house. We won't get lost; don't worry about that.”

“Fine! Get up then; I'll pick,” I said.

“And the adventure begins.” He smiled.

An hour and a half later, to my delight, I found the lake, and let out a cheer. Its real name was Johnson Lake, but I called it Lake Goldilocks because it wasn't too big or too small, it was just right. We went there several times together. Sometimes we brought kayaks and floated from one end to the other; sometimes we swam or skipped rocks or fished. It was perfect and, as I learned later, there were much quicker ways to get to it—one road brought us to within a mile of it. He was serious when he said the day was just for us to get to spend time together.

“What do you know?” he said. “It must have been meant to be. You know what that means?”

“What?” I asked.

“We're going swimming ... I guess I'll hold that towel for you after all.” He smiled.

“Um ... no. You'll get in the water and wait.” And he did. And he let out the loudest wolf whistle I think I've ever heard when I came out from behind a bunch of vine maples in my bikini. We must have spent an hour swimming, playing, floating, and talking about everything and nothing; both avoiding her, though I felt her hovering, watching over our every move.

The lake was crystal clear and fed by a fresh water spring underground. Over time, hiking to it became our “dinner and a movie.” When there was nothing to do and nowhere to go, we ended up there.

We made a bench with wood from the trees around us with our bare hands and only a saw, hammer and nails. We carved our initials into it; his on one side, mine on the other, and before long other initials found their way onto it as well. I can't even guess how many hours we spent on the bench talking about his undying love for a girl who wanted nothing to do with him, or my growing confusion over my feelings for Cole. We daydreamed about what we would do for the rest of our lives and read together in silence, or out loud to each other. He played his guitar and could strum it for hours while I swam. I got used to listening to him practice the notes for songs he said he would never sing to me because they belonged to her alone, and I fell in love with a man who loved someone else, but I never told him I loved him. The bench became a memory and it found its way deep inside my memory cave. It was too big and real to capture inside a little bottle, so it is there that I go to often in my mind to sit and reminisce on that summer and the two roads I had to choose between.

Parker passed first base easily; he totally got the first kiss that first night. It was meant to be whether either of us wanted it or not. He dropped me off long after a sunset that we watched from a different vantage point, hand in hand, sitting on the hood of his 4Runner. We sat there until the sky was completely dark, and the stars filled up the night with pin pricks of light. Then he finally went in for the kiss and I had no reason to call a foul; he earned it, and I wanted it.

“Well,” he said, sliding off the hood, and pulling me down by my foot to follow. “That's all I got—redemption. Nothing but a sunrise, sunset, and walk in the woods to make up for a worst date. How'd I do?” He moved my hair back over my shoulders and rested his hands on my neck. His thumb stroked my scar. It set my heart to beating faster. I didn't like it at all; he could tell. “Don't worry about it.”

“What?”

“What I think about it.”

“I'm not ... I …”

He hushed me with his lips on mine. They were as soft on my lips as they had been on my ear lobe earlier that morning. It occurred to me, as he nipped at my top lip then the bottom, then ran his tongue over each of them slightly before I opened my lips to him and he stretched inside to explore, that he hadn't once tried to kiss me the whole day. Our tongues met in a languid game of passion neither of us was in a hurry to end. Another thought suddenly struck me and I smiled while we kissed. He could feel it and asked about it.

“Well,” I answered, reaching my hands up and around his back, feeling the skin I had seen uncovered hours before as we swam. “I've been in a hurry for the next thing to happen all day long, but now not so much.”

“That a girl,” he crooned, nibbling my lips again. “Now you're catching on.” Then he was covering my mouth again in a long-lasting kiss. There was no ending it, no rushing it, or speeding it up to get to the next thing. There was always more I worried about when I kissed someone: would he try something, or push me further than I said I wanted to go, would I have to rein in my passion and my heart, and be the one to stop it? Not that night, not ever with Parker. He never rushed; it was always about the moment. That moment was all about first base. First kiss. I stayed there enjoying the stroke of his tongue on mine, his teasing nibbles, or mine. I'm not sure how, but our hands found each other and it was like the morning; they tangled and touched and sometimes we stopped to look at each other. The moon was up and shone bright enough for us to see each other. We would pull away to smile and catch our breath, but our hands stayed together and we were quiet, knowing that words would end the moment. Then one of us, with a grin, would lean back in to begin again. Eyes closed, mouths opened, we collided and let the passion and pleasure of the moment play between us.

All good things must come to an end and our kiss ended slowly that night. The living room light was on, so I knew Brett was up; I figured that was probably a good thing for me. Parker walked me up the steps to my door and we kissed again but this time it felt different. It was a good strong end to a good day kiss. I knew there would be no pushing from him for more and a brother inside to keep anything from happening even if he did. I invited him in but he politely declined. One more kiss and he was gone.

We had an understanding. He got to first base fast, which is ironic considering that he wouldn't play past there. Always to Parker I was a means to an end, I was a companion, a warm body to walk beside him. I was a substitute. He was waiting on Haylee, but the wait was long and he was lonely, and he was slowly realizing maybe she wouldn't come back. I was the first safe girl he found to wait with, but he was not safe for me. My heart wanted to belong to him. No matter how many rules I had, it betrayed me. Parker was the kind of guy every girl dreamed of and he only wanted to kiss. We lived on first base from that first date, both getting what we needed—him, companionship and someone to share his love of Haylee with; and me—arms to hold me and a sounding board about the mystery Cole had become. We were parasites feeding off each other, each taking what we needed to survive.

The texts and the calls came often after that. Not just from Parker, but from Cole, too. It was like once Cole had bared his soul he felt closer to me than ever. I did believe that he had changed, but not enough to put my heart in his hands again. But he obviously wanted another chance.

As soon as the boys were back in town, while my head was still reeling in the clouds at the way Parker was able to capture my heart with a kiss, and his undying love for a girl who didn't love him back, Cole was asking me out. I tried to let him down easy, but he wouldn't have it. He wanted me to give him a chance to prove things were different.

“I believe you … I do,” I told him. “But you never win going backwards. There's nothing there for us.”

“But we're not going backwards. This is all new. I'm new; you ... you're new. Everything about you is different. Don't you think it means something that we're both here?”

“No, not at all,” I answered dishonestly; There had been several times over those first weeks I wondered that exact thing. How had we managed to find each other again after all those years and over all those miles?

“Not for old time’s sake, for a new thing. Give me a chance.”

“For what? You've got to keep your mind on the game.”

“Trust me, it's on the game. There's nothing I want more. I know that now. It's everything I've ever wanted, I'm living my dream. I want someone to share it with. You're her.”

“I'm soooooo not her!”

“I think you are.”

“I think you're nuts. You play your game and keep your focus on that.”

“C'mon, Tatum.” I looked at him. Desperation didn't suit him at all. I knew it was desperation because he was used to getting what he wanted. Part of me felt bad for him. He had a huge cross to bear. I watched him even more closely after his revelation. Everything he did was a penance for Stacy's death. He was charming but it was dutiful, as if he talked to enough boys after each game about how to hit right and catch right, or if he avoided the ladies after games, he could somehow make up for her death. It was sad; I never noticed it before for what it was. His face was as gorgeous as ever, his smile and presence commanding, but I could see the pain in his eyes, like I saw it in Parker's.

I couldn't understand why I was stuck in the middle of two boys like them, one whom I wanted, who wouldn't have me because his heart belonged to another, and one who was convinced I was his way to redemption. It didn't make sense and Parker made it ten times worse because he was on Cole's side.

There was a bar close to the base called Rollies that a lot of soldiers frequented. I knew it well and Parker and I met up there a few days after our hike in the woods to play pool. Tech Sergeant Warbiany just so happened to be there, too.

“Well, look who the cat dragged in,” he said, grinning at me that first time I came in under Parker's arm.

I nodded and smiled.

“I see you traded up,” he said, looking at me.

“I don't know, did I?” I asked and we all laughed.

They did some friendly man handshake thing and started talking about the upcoming tactical rodeo. I walked away to order myself a beer. When I looked back at them, I could tell the conversation had switched to more personal things, like me ... and her. Apparently, the Tech Sergeant gave advice to heartbroken airmen, too. Parker came over after a few minutes and somehow Cole’s name came up.

I figured it didn't matter if I talked about Cole since he could hardly go an hour without bringing up Haylee. I was looking for sympathy and I told Parker I was nervous about dating Cole again. But he offered the opposite.

“I think you should give him a chance,” he said.

“Wouldn't that bother you?”

He shook his head. “Why would it? We're not exclusive—your rules, remember.”

“Don't you want to be exclusive?” I asked.

Again he shook his head. “That's part of the reason you're safe. No strings.”

“Because of her. Because if she comes calling, you'll go running?”

“Exactly.”

“What about me?”

“I haven't hidden her from you since day one. I'm hers. I want her back. I'm not done believing it yet. I think Cole's hoping you'll come back to him.”

“Wait a minute—they’re not even close to the same type of situation. I broke up with him because he was a bad boyfriend.”

“And I loved one girl my whole life and never wanted anything more than her, and she broke my heart ... and I'd still give her a second chance if she asked me to.”

“Even if you found out she cheated on you?”

“She didn't.”

“See ... different.”

“That part, yeah, but he's sorry. You believe that, right?”

“Yeah, but I don't want to go there with him again.”