Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never (16 page)

I'm standing under the corrugated metal roof that protects the single bench from the rain. In one hand, I have an unlit cigarette that I put between my lips, just so I can hold something there and forget what it was like to have Ty's mouth on mine. I squeeze my eyes shut and feel drops of water run down my eyebrows and slide down the sides of my face. Tears threaten, but I push them back, determined to keep my promise to Ty. Even if I never see him again, I'll always keep my promise. If I've learned anything in the past few weeks, it's that integrity and honesty are all we really have. Once we lose sight of them, it's just a slow descent into madness. Despite all the odds, I've climbed out of that misery. I'm standing in the light now, and I refuse to go back to the darkness.

I clench my fist around the handle of my suitcase and open my eyes to the sheet of rain that's falling all around me, splashing the dirty pavement and pinging off the roofs of nearby cars. On one side of me is a woman in a leather jacket with haunted eyes and a ghostly smile on her face. On the opposite side is a guy who's determined to tell me his life story, whether I want to hear it or not. I tune out his voice, turn my thoughts to their maximum volume and let them continue to convince me that this is the right thing to do. I've been away from home for far too long. It's time to see my mom and my sisters again, to visit my father's grave, to start over.
It's not too late.
Besides, I'm being overdramatic. I'll be back after break, so it isn't like I won't ever see him again. I swallow hard and try to remember to keep breathing.

“I can never go back,” says the man, and I turn my face slowly to look at him. He isn't looking back at me; his gaze is focused out towards the street, but he isn't seeing it. I recognize that expression. He's looking inside of himself, trying to find a reason to be alive. I want to tell him it's okay, that if he tries really, really hard, that he'll find it, but that's his conclusion to come to on his own. I found my reason. I found a whole bunch of reasons and that's why I can't stay here another second. “I can never go back,” the man says again, trying to convince himself that it's true. I once thought that, too, but I know that it isn't. You can always go back. Sometimes, it's just easier to pretend that you can't.

“Never say never,” says a voice just outside of my peripheral vision. The tears I've been holding back spill out, run down my face like rain. My lip trembles a bit and the cigarette falls to the ground, lands in a puddle at my feet. Footsteps splash across the pavement towards me and suddenly, there he is with his wet hair in his face and a suitcase in his hand.

“Fuck off,” the man tells Ty and stands up, turning away from the two of us and slumping down on the ground on the opposite side of the bench.

“Guess he isn't ready for that kind of advice,” Ty says to me, just a blur in my watery vision. I'm trying so hard not to look at him because if I do, I'll never be able to look away again. I'm in love, big time. I've fallen so hard for Ty that if I don't get away now, I'll never be able to get back up. Ty adjusts himself and puts the suitcase down. “But I wasn't talking to him, anyway, I was talking to you.”

“Go away,” I say, but I don't really mean it, and he can tell.

“Is this seat taken?” Ty asks as he points to the bench, rings and bracelets jangling, dripping water across the last bit of dry pavement that there is. I don't answer him. “Never,” he says again and I look up at the sky, eyes so full of tears that I can barely see it. “You can't run away,” he tells me as he steps close enough that the toes of our shoes are brushing together.

“I wasn't running away,” I tell him. “I'm going home. I have to go home, Ty. There are so many loose ends that I have to tie up. If I leave them hanging, there's a chance I might get tangled up, and I don't want that ever again.” He smiles and my heart breaks in two. When he reaches a hand up and tries to cup my face, I turn away.

“Don't,” I say, convinced that if he touches me, I'll shred my ticket and never leave his side again. He doesn't listen; Ty never listens. He slides his fingers across my chin and even though they're cold and wet, they're still warm somehow. It doesn't make any sense, but it's true. “Ty,” I breathe as his other hand comes up and tangles in my hair. Then his mouth is on mine, hot and desperate, and I'm dropping my suitcase to the ground and reaching up, pressing my hands into the soggy fabric of his T-shirt.

“Never,” he says, pausing for just a moment with his lips pressed into the skin of my forehead. “You're so fucking stubborn sometimes.” I shake my head and dodge his next kiss, determined to say what I need to say.

“You said you've never loved anyone, Ty, but I have, and I still do. I have to go home and make things right, and I can't just dismiss my feelings anymore. I love you, and I can't stand around and watch you not loving me.” He chuckles and I nearly sock him in the face for it. Instead, he grabs my hand and presses a kiss to my trembling fingertips.

“You misunderstood what I was trying to say. I said I've never loved anyone
before,
meaning before this moment, because Never, I love someone now.”

“Who?” I ask and Ty laughs again, pressing his forehead against mine.

“Oh come on,” he says, but I won't let it go, not anymore. I need to hear it now, from this person, this way.

“Say it,” I tell him as more tears fall and I find myself wondering what the hell I was doing running away from my best friend, from the person who helped me see the light. I might be getting better, but I guess I still have a lot to learn.

“I love you, Never,” Ty says, and I bite my lip to keep my emotions in check. They're all swirling around inside of me, flickering like fireflies and lighting up my soul. “Now, promise you'll take me with you,” Ty pleads, and I nod because I'm having a hard time speaking through the kisses and the feel of his hands in my wet hair. “Thank god,” he says. “Because I put in a notice at my apartment this morning. If you'd have turned me down, I would've had nothing to go back to.” I laugh, but it's all wrapped up in tears and doesn't sound very pretty. “Now, kiss me again,” he commands and I do.

Ty and I are sitting on a dirty Greyhound bus with our hands tangled together between us. Neither of us is speaking, I think, because neither of us knows what to say. This is new territory for both of us and it's scary as hell. There's sweat collecting between our heated flesh, but I can't tell if it's mine or his or both because I can hardly breathe. I still barely understand what happened between us last night. All I know for sure is that making love and sex are two totally different things, and I can finally tell them apart.

I turn to Ty after too long of staring out the dirty window on my left and try to catch his attention by shaking his hand. It's not the one with the rings and bracelets, but I wish it was so that it would jingle. There's something decidedly cheerful about that sound. When he turns to face me, his dark eyes are contemplative and far away but happy, just a little bit happy. He likes me – loves me maybe – and it's putting this smirk on his face that tries to lift my spirit from the floor and shake it.

“If you gave notice at your apartment,” I begin. “Where are you going to live?” Ty winks at me and pulls out a cigarette, pausing only because the old lady across the aisle from us is tapping him on the shoulder and gesturing angrily at the
No Smoking
sign that hangs crookedly at the front of the bus. Ty sighs and slips the cig back in his pocket. I think there's a time coming in the far off future where the two of us are going to have to quit. Not yet, not now though. I don't think I'll survive this trip if I quit now.

“Why, at the dorms of course!” Ty says as his hand moves from mine and finds a resting spot on my knee. It's only when he starts sliding it up my thigh that I stop him. I stare him straight in the eyes and try not to notice the girl in the front row who's been eyeballing him. He hasn't looked at her, not once. I don't think he even
sees
her. All Ty sees now is me.

“But you said you'd have nowhere to go?” I ask him and watch as his dimples fade and his smile becomes a little less happy, a little more melancholy. He nods and rubs at his chin with his other hand. His dark hair is still a bit damp, dripping tantalizing drops down the back of his neck that soak into the fabric of his already soggy T-shirt. We haven't been driving long, maybe an hour tops, and it's so fucking damp and humid in here that I've spent the whole ride with my window cracked, despite the rude stares from in front and the grumbles behind me.

“If you'd have turned me down, do you really think I would've stuck around? Gone to the same college? Fuck that, Never.” I swallow hard and try to think up something to say. I don't know how to handle a situation like this. Love 'em and leave 'em, that was my previous policy. Now, here I am on a two thousand fucking mile drive with Ty McCabe who I don't know, not really. I feel him though, inside and out and everywhere and nowhere all at once. I am Ty McCabe and I'm not. He's me and he's not. It doesn't make any sense to me, but I know it's all true. I'm in love. I think. Things are bound to get twisted.

“What do you think Vanessa would say if she knew what we were doing?” I ask, thinking of our Sexual Obsession Group leader. “If she knew what we did … ” I reach up and touch the chip that's still hanging from my ear. It was a proof of success and now it's a proof of failure, too. I start to take it off and stop only when Ty's long fingers wrap around my wrist.

“Vanessa would say,
Go get 'em girl,
” he tells me and pauses. “And she'd also say,
Don't you dare let her take that fucking earring off.
” I stare at him and know that he isn't telling me everything. His blue nose ring glints in the yucky fluorescent lighting as I slump back against the cracked window and try to enjoy the cool breeze against my neck.

“You talked to her, didn't you?” I ask him, and he smiles. I slap Ty's muscular arm
hard
and am satisfied at the cracking sound my gesture makes. His dimples are back though, so I can tell that he's in a good mood. I wish mine was as perky as his. But it can't be. It just can't because I'm on the road of no return. What I do here will define
everything
and I mean
everything
that will happen in my future. From Ty to my college career to my future job, all of it rides on this stupid trip. I know that and it's why I'm here. It's also why my past won't stop whispering dirty things to me, reminding me why I left and how my mother betrayed me and how my daddy's corpse is six fucking feet under, rotting in hell or heaven or floating through the river Styx … I don't know, and I don't claim to. All I know is that my family chose not to believe me, that they'd rather live with a murderer than face the truth.

I hate my mother.

“I called her after you left. I had a panic attack, Never. You can't just turn someone's world upside down and then leave.”

“I can do whatever the hell I want,” I tell him, but I do take his hand in mine and squeeze it tightly. I don't want Ty getting the wrong idea, getting off this bus and finding some other girl to bury his pain in. I close my eyes and try to fill my belly with air. He doesn't acknowledge my statement, just keeps talking which is fine with me. I could use a distraction from my thoughts. They're such a jumbled mess that I don't even know how to begin untangling them.
What am I doing on this goddamn bus? Why I am going back there? How do I even know they'll be happy to see me? What if I see that murderer in the flesh? What will I do? How will I react?

“I told her that we made love, and she was supportive.” I roll my eyes, but inside, I'm secretly happy that Vanessa knows. Despite my attitude in group, I look up to her, whether she knows it or not. “Although she did tell me that I was an asshole.”

“You are an asshole,” I tell him as I stare into his eyes. “You begged and pleaded until you got what you wanted. Feel better now?”

“No,” he tells me as he leans across the seat and runs his hand through my hair, pulls my face to his and kisses the hell out of me. I can't even breathe; my lips are on fire and my heart has just exploded into a million pieces, been sucked out of me by Ty's breath, the feel of his mouth against mine, the warmth of his body hovering so tantalizingly close. When he pulls back, he runs the knuckles of his ringed hand down my cheek. “I'm starving.”

“For a sandwich?” I say, but I know that isn't even remotely what he's talking about.

“For you,” he tells me, unperturbed by my attitude. See, Ty gets me. He gets that I'm fucked up and he knows that I know that he's just as screwed up, so we work together, him and me.

“This isn't going to be easy,” I warn him, my breath brushing his lips and making him shiver.

“Fuck easy,” Ty tells me and kisses me again. I keep my eyes open and watch the butterfly tattoos on the back of his hand. Somehow, even in this terrible light, they seem to sparkle with a bit of hope.

At the rest stop, I have my first panic attack. I stumble into the women's bathroom and lean against the wall with one hand while I gasp for breath and try to keep my head from spinning like crazy.
I'm going home … I'm going home … I'm going home … It's been five years, and I'm going home.

Women pass by and whisper but nobody stops to help me. I could be having a fucking heart attack and nobody cares. I force myself across the dirty tile floor and lean over the sink with my head hanging down and my hair kissing the wet porcelain. A watery reflection looks back up at me from the sink and shivers as I splash my hand into it. When I look up, I see Ty in the mirror behind me. He's standing at the entrance to the bathroom with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks me as he moves aside for a group of giggling girls. They whisper and look him up and down as they pass. I want to say,
You have no idea what you're getting yourselves into. You can't handle a man like this.
But I don't. I just nod and follow Ty outside to a patch of grass under a small, sickly tree. It looks decidedly pissed off to have been planted next to the smelly restroom and I don't blame it a bit.

“This isn't about you,” I tell Ty as I pull the cigarette from his mouth and take a drag. The smoke fills my lungs, clouds the severity of the situation from my frantic mind, just the way it always does. I sigh and watch the crackling cherry with pinpoint focus. “This is about my family.”

“I figured as much,” Ty says as he sits down and stretches out his long legs. They're encased in dark jeans, topped with a pair of black boots, no laces. Typical Ty. He looks incredible, perfect, edible,
dangerous.
I am playing with fire here and no matter what happened between us last night, I have to remember that. His shirt, after all, does say
Doesn't Play Well With Others.
Too true. “After all, how could anyone have a problem with me?” he asks with a smile. I smile back, but mine is tight. Ty nods and pulls out another cigarette, lights it, and blows smoke into the cool air.

“I don't know what I'm doing here.” Ty's smile fades a bit as he takes the cigarette between two fingers. His bracelets jingle in the quiet space between here and there as he gestures for me to sit next to him. I fold my arms over my chest and wait. My nerves are stretched too taut to sit still, not when I know I have to get back on that bus. I start to pace.

“Sure you do,” he tells me and I wonder when he got all of this control over himself. He seems so put together, not at all like the dark, tortured soul I know he is. Inside of him is a monster. I know that because I have the same one inside of me. Right now, it's telling me that my family doesn't give a shit whether I live or die, that they're happy I'm gone.
If you go back,
it says,
you'll only be digging your own grave. And Noah Scott? You were just an easy chance at a lay. He knew that then and he knows that now.

“Shut up!” I shout as I clamp my hands over my ears. My cigarette flies from my mouth and topples end over end, hits the wet grass and fizzles out in the dew. Ty reaches over, grabs it and lights it again. When he hands it up to me, his dimples deepen with a heartfelt smile.

“You see that?” he asks, and I have no idea what he's referring to. “Even when you think the fire's been put out, you can always start it up again.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” I say as I take it from his hands. I sound meaner than I want to and flop down next to Ty with the intention of holding his hand. Instead, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to him, puts my head against his chest and cups it there with a handful of butterflies. I change the subject. “When you said I was yours … ”

“I meant it,” Ty says and that's it. We both stop talking.