The dripping of water was the only sound in the crime scene. Ty's eyes followed the stains of blood on the floor right up to the bath tub and then back to the floor again. He felt sick and empty. The blood had turned brown now and would have almost been unrecognizable had there been less of it, but the way it had spread across the tiles made it clear that something bad had happened here.
"I can clean it up," Kerry-Anne offered.
"No. I can do it. I'm not afraid of blood…" Ty said and stood there in the doorway as his body was unwilling to make any kind of movement.
"I know, but… it's not about the blood, is it?" Kerry-Anne said and pushed through. She went straight to one of the cabinets and took out a rag. Ty swallowed and knew she was right. He wasn't scared of the blood, but he was scared of what it meant, even if he tried not to be. The blood was a reminder that earlier today he had become an orphan, that he had lost his mother.
Kerry-Anne reached out unplug the tub so the bloody water would run down the drain then took the shower head. She sprayed the water on the floor and the side of the tub, feeling like she wasn't really in her body as she did all of this. Kerry-Anne knew she was in shock, but somehow she still kept going. Ty, on the other hand, was unable to do anything. She didn't blame him for it, but saw it as an opportunity to help him and pay him back for all the good things he had done for her.
"You can go rest. It's fine," she told him.
"It's not fine…" Ty said with a shaky voice. He finally stepped in and determinedly walked over to the cabinet to grab another rag for himself. Kerry-Anne shut down the water and put the shower head away so she could take the rag away from him.
"Ty, go rest. It's been a long day." She wasn't asking, she was telling him.
"No!" Ty protested and tried to fight away from her arms.
"You're exhausted," Kerry-Anne noted. "It's better if you just let me—"
"It's my fault…!" Ty began to cry. "It's my fault she's dead. It's my mess, I have to—"
"Hey… hey…" Kerry-Anne wrapped her arms around him and tried to comfort him. Ty was shaking and he was clutching his hands against his chest. It was like there was a hole inside of him and it was sucking everything in. "It's not your fault. Just breathe… Just breathe…"
They gently fell on the floor into a sitting position as Kerry-Anne kept soothing him.
It was there somewhere, he was sure of it. Ty went through his closet and moved things out of the way. After a while, the carefully closed box surfaced behind random piles of junk and worn out clothes. Ty pulled it out and opened the lid. He looked at the remains of his love life, arranged in this small cardboard box. Things that brought memories now as he gazed at them, but he had forgotten even existed.
It was not the time for reminiscing, so Ty dug out an old AC/DC t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants, taking in their smell to know if they were even wearable. There was a distant scent of Kerry-Anne's perfume, but it was covered with whatever laundry detergent they had had at the time of her departure. These would do. Ty finally stood up and carefully kicked the box out of the way as he headed back to Amy.
Except for the entryway and the kitchen, Amy hadn't seen any other part of Ty's home until now. She didn't explore any further than the living room where he'd left her to find something for her to change into, but took advantage of his absence by taking closer looks at the photographs she noticed scattered about the room. There weren't many, which was surprising if this had in fact been the home of Ty's mother. Her own childhood home had been covered floor to ceiling in family photos from all stages of life as far back as her great-grandparents. Some had been taken down to make room for newer ones, but still kept accessible in their family albums. Maybe that's where most of Ty's mother's photos were kept, rather than displayed. But Amy smiled softly at the ones she saw of who she assumed was Ty as a toddler being held by his mother and some later ones when he was older, but there weren't any in between. The one with young Ty held her attention, though, and she picked it up from the mantle to get a better look.
"It might not be your favorite band, but I guess it'll fit you better than any of my t-shirts," Ty said and felt weird for even thinking that Amy would wear something of his. Not that seeing Amy wearing Kerry-Anne's clothes was going to be any less weird…
Quickly, Amy replaced the picture from where she took it, turning to Ty and looking down at the clothes he held for her. "Not exactly, but I won't discriminate," she joked, taking the clothes from him with a thank you. She didn't really have a favorite genre of music or band, just enjoying songs independently regardless of artist or style. A t-shirt was a t-shirt and Amy was grateful for whatever Ty pulled out for her to wear. She loved her jeans but they weren't the most comfortable to sleep in.
"Is this your mom?" She decided to venture the question while they were still standing there in front of it, pretty sure Ty had seen her with the picture a moment ago. Ty looked at Amy, feeling the nervousness turning his stomach. He felt different here inside the house. In the workshop everything had been more neutral, or maybe hopeful in some way, as the crafts were showing that Ty was working toward something new. But inside the house was where the ghosts of the past roamed. No matter how understanding Amy had been about everything so far, she was still going to spend her night here and Ty was worried it would be too much for her with no way out.
"Yeah…" Ty said, glancing at the photo. He walked closer and took the frame from the mantle. "And me. Dad must have taken this…" He looked at his mother who looked so happy, so full of life. This had had to be around the time things had started to get worse. Ty could recall Lily going on and on about the photo, but he had never been too interested to listen.
His dad had been there to look after her during that period, but after his passing, Lily had been left alone with Ty. He had not known what his mother was going through until much later, since his parents had always hid it so well from him. Ty had just assumed that everyone's mother was like his - that sometimes they could be cleaning up the kitchen three o'clock in the morning or sleeping for a week. Maybe if he had known more, things would be different now.
Ty put the picture back and coughed to clear his throat. "I'll give you some privacy. Would you like some tea? I could make us some."
As with every time before when Amy sensed she tread on a touchy subject with Ty that made him visibly uncomfortable, she just let it go. She was curious to learn more about him but it was obvious that asking of his family wasn't the best way to do it. The same could be said of her, which she supposed sort of made her into a hypocrite.
"Sure," she answered, giving him the excuse he seemed to be seeking to avoid another awkward moment. Sighing quietly, Amy watched him head to the kitchen before her eyes drifted back to linger on the picture for another moment. "You look a lot like her," Amy remarked quietly to herself, wanting to say it to Ty but figured it was best to just keep it to herself as she wandered down to the bathroom to change.
The clothes Ty gave her were obviously women's as they fit her almost perfectly. That made her involuntarily question a few things as she stared at herself in the mirror that hung behind the bathroom door, trying to imagine the woman that these clothes first belonged to. Ty never really mentioned any girlfriends before, but then again Amy had never bothered to ask either. Maybe she should have, but Ty didn't act like a guy that was in a relationship.
Out of curiosity, Amy opened the cabinet above the vanity, finding razors and deodorant and other typical male things. But it was opening the drawer below the vanity that had her head reeling when she noticed an open box of tampons and other obviously feminine products. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She should have known better and now really felt like a fool for thinking there was more to Ty's kindness than simple western hospitality. Of course there wasn't because that was just how her life always worked out and why she never allowed herself to get attached to anything, or anyone, anymore.
Ty noticed he had Highway to Hell stuck on his head as he was putting the kettle on. He knew it was the result of giving Amy Kerry-Anne's t-shirt, but Ty also hoped it wasn't some kind of premonition about what was to come. As much as he liked to think he was over Kerry-Anne and the mess she had left behind, he had to admit that seeing those clothes had brought back memories about times that had not been that bad - when Kerry-Anne had actually been there for him. It had taken time to pick up the pieces and drag himself up from the earthly hell that Ty had found himself in a few years after his mother's suicide and weeks after Kerry-Anne's exit. At first Ty had felt relief when he had seen the house empty, but after a while he had realized he had also found some kind of weird comfort in their misery. Now that he was back on his feet, he wasn't too happy to revisit those memories, not even the good ones, because they never lead to anything good. Ty didn't want Amy to witness some kind of mental breakdown, if that were to happen now because of Kerry-Anne. But he tried his best to focus on the present and not give too much power to the past.
Amy shut the drawer and gathered her clothes when she heard the shrill whistle of the tea kettle, rethinking this decision of staying the night as a bad idea if it was going to end up causing some sort of lover's quarrel because things like this were always misunderstood and taken out of context. But, once again, Amy wasn't entirely sure how to approach the issue as she flopped down on the couch and began to meticulously fold her clothes for no reason other than to have something to keep her busy.
"Okay… Are you decent?" Ty asked, holding two cups of green tea in his hands. He was still lingering in the kitchen, waiting for Amy's response. "And also, do you use milk, sugar or honey in your tea?"
Was she decent. Amy almost scoffed to herself. Apparently that was part of her problem. But of course Ty meant was she clothed, in which case her answer was "in a manner of speaking." "Yeah, you're good," she said, keeping her alternate wise-cracking comments reined in as she got off the couch to help Ty with the tea. As he handed the cup to her from the tray, Ty quickly glanced at Amy and the clothes, remarking this moment as "weird" inside his head.
"I've got it, thanks," she told him, taking one of the mugs. God forbid the girl who owned these clothes walked in to see not only some strange woman wearing them, but the guy she supposedly had claims to making two cups of tea so late in the evening. Amy had been that girl, she had sympathy for her. The last thing she wanted was to be on the other end of that discovery. The dirty secret. The home-wrecker. For once it really wouldn't be like that, but being that girl she knew how hard it was to believe it when proof was staring you in the face.
Ty sat down next to Amy after putting down the tray, wondering where he should look. Lowering his gaze, he decided the tea was interesting enough to hold his attention.
"Your mom wasn't an AC/DC fan, was she?" Amy asked, locating the sugar bowl and adding a small scoop to her tea. As odd as she'd feel wearing Ty's dead mother's clothes, she almost preferred it to learning of their true origin. Maybe.
"What? No," Ty laughed. It was enough to break the fragile ice that had started to form after he had handed her the clothes. "I think she might have been more like… Joni Mitchell type."
"Oh, that makes more sense." Amy laughed softly, slightly relieved about that but at the same time really wondering where exactly these clothes came from.
Ty realized Amy was wondering why he happened to have women's clothes at hand, especially since it was pretty obvious that he lived alone. To avoid scary assumptions like he had kept them as a keepsake from the previous innocent girl that had had the courage to step inside of his house and since disappeared, Ty decided to be honest.
"The clothes are… my ex's," he said and looked at Amy, taking in her reaction. "She left them behind. I just thought maybe you'd be about the same size."
And there it was. The admission Amy sought. She figured Ty would have past relationships, everyone did - good, bad, or indifferent. Things were always left behind, it was just a matter of whether the aftermath was amicable enough for the person to get them back or if, as Amy had done, they were just thrown in a dumpster in a back alley. If they wanted it, they could dive for it. She hadn't wanted anything left behind she could even find by mistake. Cutting any and all ties. Ty apparently had a different sort of break up, or maybe just felt differently about his than she did hers if he left whatever his ex left behind where it sat. Ex or not, though, the fact that that stuff was still lying around made Amy cautious. Blame it on past experience, but she learned to be more careful when it came to getting involved with someone, no matter how long or well she thought she knew them. But she again took a moment to remind herself that wasn't what this was about. Her goal here was Spartan and her only involvement with Ty was helping him create a trusting relationship with the horse in exchange for a repair job on her truck. That was it. Everything else was just fluff, unimportant filler. So what if Ty's ex left her stuff behind. That wasn't Amy's business, or her place to even care. Except, the longer she stayed the harder it was to maintain that focus and she couldn't seem to help herself.
"Yeah, pretty close," she remarked, tugging at the bottom of the t-shirt and glancing down at the design, unsure of what to really say on the topic of Ty's ex. That couldn't be any better territory than his mom and even Amy was reluctant to go there.
Ty noticed Amy carefully dodged the whole ex thing and he felt relieved for not having to explain her more about Kerry-Anne - though he had to admit he was surprised too. Usually people commented something about it or even said an overly-sympathetic "oh…", but not Amy. Maybe that was what made her so different; she could sense when something was unwanted. And this topic really was.