A/N: Okay, in this chapter, we really don't get anywhere...okay, we kind of do...TJ does something that he really can't undo, which is where we get the title from.
I was dissapointed that so few people reviewed the last chapter, only my dedicated TheNextPoliticalDynasty, and xXxSarahxXx reviewed, whom I love and thank profusely.
I'm also not certain if this is rated "R" material or not, because it won't get much worse from what's in this chapter. I'm changing it back to "PG-13", but if anyone feels that it should be "R", tell me and give me sufficient reason, please.
Here it is I can't go back from updating...would you really want me to? ENJOY!
Chapter 11: What We Can't Go Back From
Vince made his way out of the gym, waving good-bye to some of his teammates. He hadn't done so well at practice, his mind on everything that was going on.
"Hey, LaSalle," the coach called after him. He stopped, turning to look at the plump elder man. He was short, stocky, with graying hair wearing dark sunglasses. The man could yell and demanded respect from all of his team, despite being half their size and strength.
"Yeah, coach?" Vince said, acknowledging him.
"What's wrong, kid?" Coach asked, "You weren't on your game today."
"I've just got a lot on my mind is all. I'll be ready to shoot baskets at the real deal though," Vince answered.
"Are you sure you don't want to stay in the hotel with the rest of the guys, clear your mind? You're my ace in the hole, Vince. I need you at your best game-night. You're my star player," Coach said.
"No. My parents are thrilled that I'm staying with them so long. My usual visits are so short. You know, I get there with just enough time to chat about little things, the weather and stuff, and then I have to hop back on a plane to get to the games," Vince replied, "It's just hard being back in my hometown is all. Seeing old friends..."
"It's a girl, isn't it?"
"Yeah, something like that..." Vince shrugged, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. He thought of Spinelli, of kissing her. It had been everything he'd imagined it to be. Soft and sweet. There was a slight taste of salt on her lips. He wouldn't mind kissing her again. But the way she'd reacted, the way she'd chased after TJ. The way she'd run out of Kelso's. Vince was worried about her, but he was also worried about the answer she'd give. And then there was Gus's mysterious disappearance, and the letters being taken. Something bad was going down. Something having to do with Mary Anna. Something Vince had wanted to separate himself from but was now smack dab in the middle of.
Coach patted Vince's shoulder. "Women are like air," he said, "You need them, but you don't have to run around searching for 'em, because they're everywhere. Don't let one girl get you down, LaSalle, there's plenty more fish in the sea."
"Thanks, coach," Vince muttered. It wasn't comforting. He wasn't sure he wanted another girl. The fact was, Vince had tried getting girlfriends, but he could never seem to keep one. It was because of his aggressiveness, his inability to control his anger. He lashed out at everything and anything around him. One of his girlfriends, he'd attacked, nearly hit, came at her violently only to realize what he was doing and come back to his senses at the very last moment. Spinelli, as he remembered her, was just as angry and forceful as he felt all the time now. She would beat the snot out of a kid just because he got in her way when she was in a bad mood. She was strong, not like the women Vince had dated, and wouldn't put up with his crap. They'd exchange swings and there'd be no need to talk things out, because Spinelli didn't talk things out. She lived by the credo 'hit first, take names later for record purposes', and Vince respected her for that. He rubbed his stomach, recalling Spinelli's fist sailing into it. It still hurt.
"Get some sleep tonight, eat a big meal," Coach said, patting Vince's shoulder again before turning and walking away.
"Bye, coach," Vince sighed, walking away down the street. He hadn't driven to practice that day; it was only a short distance from his parents' house. He wanted to walk anyways it was a nice night.
The streets were empty, and everything was silent. It still smelled like rain. He made his way down the street, folding his arms across his chest, though it wasn't cold. Who did TJ think he was, saying all those things? How could he hurt Spinelli like that and she still love him? And where the hell did he get off saying Vince didn't know Spinelli?
Vince kicked a rock on the sidewalk, watching it bound away. He heard the crack of thunder in the distance, although the storm had passed hours before. He felt a chill wind creep up behind him; a slight sound of...was that laughter? He heard the splinter before he felt it, something...like a bowling ball, ramming into his backside, knocking him to the ground in a great deal of pain. He tried to push himself up, off of the sidewalk, heard the thunder roar in the sky once more above him. He coughed, blood sputtering from his mouth, trailing down to his chin, as a black veil of unconsciousness swept across his eyes. The last things he knew before he slipped completely into the darkness were warm hands propping him up against a brick wall and a familiar voice calling his name.
-0-0-0-0-
TJ made his way down the street in no particular direction. He'd told Mikey that he wasn't certain if he was in the right mindset to drive, so being the friend Mikey was, he offered to drive TJ home. Of course, TJ didn't want to go home either, so he handed Mikey the keys to the rental car and left. He had a lot to think about, but his mind wasn't concentrating properly. So he stopped at the grocery store and bought a large bottle of whiskey thinking that maybe that would clear things up. The world kept blurring before him. It was just now sinking in, that it was over between Spinelli and him. That with his own mouth, his own words, he broke up with her. He remembered when he'd realized how he felt about Spinelli. He'd known how Vince had felt back then, because Vince had told him in the middle of fourth grade.
The wind picked up, ruffling TJ's hair as he crossed the street to the park. He wiped his arm across his eyes. When Vince had told TJ that he liked Spinelli, in more than a friend way, it had felt like someone had punched him hard in the chest. He felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't hear, couldn't speak. Of course, he didn't know at that time how much he really cared about Spinelli. In his mind, he felt as though Vince wanted to take away TJ's friendship with Spinelli, and in a way, Vince wanted to lessen his friendship with TJ as well. TJ didn't want to lose two of his best friends. So he did the only thing he could think of at the time. Sabotaged Vince from telling Spinelli how he felt by advising Vince to ignore the feeling. Telling him that maybe it would go away. TJ spent most of his boyhood in denial. He too ignored his feelings. He pushed aside that ping of jealousy whenever Spinelli and Vince would play tetherball, or one-on-one basketball, and especially, when they'd arm-wrestle. Or when they'd have private conversations or if she'd laugh at something Vince said. That's how it all became obvious to him. TJ began to realize how he felt about Spinelli. How he'd always, deep down, felt about her.
So, TJ realized his feelings, and pushed them down as deep as they would go in his heart. He would look in the mirror in the morning, run his hand through his hair, slip his cap on, suck in his gut, and hate how he looked. Spinelli would never want him anyways, were his thoughts. Spinelli would want Vince, tall, slim, charming and attractive. Then TJ would shake his head; remind himself that they were just kids and shouldn't be feeling that way. That he was a boy and Spinelli was...well...she was a girl, despite how she denied it, and they were supposed to find the other repulsive, or, as they were quite immature, yucky.
TJ took another drink from the bottle he held in his hand. His face was flushed now and he was a bit on the drunk side. He stumbled, trying to step up on the curb, falling flat on his face and scraping his chin. Okay, he was a lot on the drunk side. He heard the sound of footsteps and saw two pointy-toes of purple shoes stop in front of him. He looked up, but wasn't certain he recognized the woman before him...she looked somewhat familiar.
"Are you alright?" she asked. TJ nodded, before passing out.
-0-0-0-0-
Gretchen climbed up the stairs from her basement, where her old lab was set up, to the front door of her father's house. When she swung the brown painted door open, the sight in front of her was surprising, to say the least. The short black-haired woman looked as though she'd had no sleep that night, with large puffy red bags beneath her eyes. She seemed to be engulfed by her clothing, a large gray sweater and even larger jeans, standing barefoot on the porch of the Grundler household. Her face was a frowning glower and her hair was an utter mess.
"Spinelli?" Gretchen questioned.
"Where's TJ?" Spinelli asked.
"I don't know. I left him at Kelso's with Mikey. What are you doing here? Have you any idea what time it is?" Gretchen demanded.
"It's late, I know," Spinelli mumbled, "But I..." Why was she here? With Joey gone, and the fight she'd had with TJ still brewing in her mind...she just didn't know where else to go. But she couldn't tell Gretchen that. She would rather dress in a frilly pink dress with toe-pinching high heels and walk down Main Street before giving Gretchen that kind of satisfaction. Gretchen crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring down condescendingly at Spinelli.
"My dad's out with his girlfriend, Priscilla or whatever her name is. You can come in," Gretchen said, opening the door slightly. It was a kind gesture that made Spinelli raise her eyebrow in suspicion. "I expect you're here to talk about what happened at Kelso's after you left. No, TJ did not relinquish any information on your fight, but I'm not stupid, I can deduct that it has something to do with Vincent." Spinelli sighed, making her way into the house. She hadn't been in it since they were ten. They'd had slumber parties there, exclusively girls only as Gretchen's mother wouldn't allow any boys to sleep over. Spinelli had come over often, especially after fights with TJ, whose house was her usual sanctuary. She'd cried when she'd learned Gretchen's parents had gotten a divorce, even though she hadn't been friends with Gretchen at the time. It just seemed like something important was ending; like the last nail in the coffin of everything that made sense in the world.
"Your dad painted the walls," Spinelli noticed as Gretchen closed the door gently behind her. She followed Gretchen into the living room. "And he got a new couch?"
"My mom took the old one when we moved out," Gretchen explained. They both sat together on the lumpy blue sofa.
"I'm sorry about your parents," Spinelli said, though it was a bit late for that kind of apology.
"I'm not," Gretchen shrugged, "I wanted out of here, it was the perfect chance. My parents weren't in love anymore; they just went through the motions. It wasn't like they had horrible fights or anything; they were just...acquaintances, like they hardly knew each other. They slept in different beds for crying out loud. They weren't husband and wife. It was good that they got the divorce."
"They seemed right for each other, though," Spinelli replied sorrowfully.
"It got to a point where I would want to scream at them to do something, to say something to one another...to fight," Gretchen laughed ironically, "I mean, when you love someone, you fight. It's healthy for a relationship..." Gretchen trailed off, seeing Spinelli draw her legs up, burying her face. "Sorry," Gretchen mumbled.
"It's not your fault," Spinelli whispered, "We're not right for each other..."
"And what about Vincent?"
"He kissed me..." Spinelli explained, "Told me he was in love with me. TJ saw everything."
"Inevitable," Gretchen said casually.
"What do you mean?" Spinelli demanded, lifting her head to stare at the redhead beside her.
"I knew, the minute I saw you, Vince, and TJ all here, that it was bound to happen. It was obvious that they were both smitten with you all through grade school, and from the looks on both their faces neither had gotten over it," Gretchen clarified, "I knew that something like this was going to happen, especially when we learned that you and TJ were an item. You could already see the jealousy in Vince's eyes and the gears in his head ticking, considering the benefits of telling you how he felt, or claims to feel."
"How come I wasn't aware of this?" Spinelli asked.
"Because you're oblivious to other people's feelings," Gretchen explained unhesitatingly.
"I am...what?"
"Well, Spinelli, you tend to be unaware, ignorant of what others around you are going through or feeling. It's not that you're cruel or anything, I don't mean that in the least. You just don't notice. I guess because you yourself hardly know how you feel half the time. I mean," Gretchen continued, "You didn't notice how they felt while we were in school."
"I...well..." Spinelli stared at her hands blankly. What was she supposed to say? Was Gretchen right? Did she not notice how others felt?
"You know that you have to settle this and give Vince an answer, right?" Gretchen went on.
"How can I give Vince an answer?" Spinelli snapped, "He shouldn't have said those things. He shouldn't have kissed me! He had no right to mess up my relationship with TJ!"
"From the sounds of what TJ said, your relationship was already rather...um...messed up."
Spinelli sighed, wrapping her arms about her legs and burying her face deeper between them. Why did everything have to be so goddamned complicated? She wanted things simple again. Like in New York, where if her and TJ got into a fight, she could easily end it with threat of pummeling him, or just by starting another fight, or even simply pouting and questioning why he wasn't agreeing with her.
"Gus is gone," Gretchen said.
"That had nothing to do with what we were talking about," Spinelli mumbled, annoyed at the change of subject, her voice stifled by the large sweater.
"I know. But I thought you would want to know and I couldn't figure out another way to tell you," Gretchen replied.
"Gretchen...why did we stop being friends?" Spinelli asked.
"What?"
"Well...we never really had a reason to hate each other. I...just wanted to know is all."
"I don't know, Spinelli," Gretchen sighed, leaning back into the couch and closing her eyes, "It's just...everything was so complicated and I was so afraid...so confused. I didn't know if I was supposed to hate you or not...so I just went with everyone else...."
"But how could you...I don't understand..."
"It was easy. I was already so envious of you," Gretchen shrugged. Spinelli turned her face to Gretchen quizzically.
"You envied me? Why?"
"Because, Spinelli. You were pretty, and tough. You had two guys vying for your attention, even if they didn't realize they were competing for you. They weren't the only ones either. As soon as we hit the adolescent age, when our hormones kicked in, guys wanted to hang out with you, be around you. You were strong and athletic; I was shy and quiet. I was smart, that's all anyone saw me as. Smart Girl," Gretchen felt the warmth of new tears trailing silently down her cheeks, "You would horse-around with the guys while I would stand back and watch. You didn't care what anyone thought of you. I hated that."
"I didn't know..."
"You couldn't have," Gretchen's eyes opened, anger-filled, "It wasn't as though you tried to keep our friendship alive. It was so easy for you to stop coming over, to stop calling, to stop saying 'hi' to me, to stop playing with me at recess. You never noticed when I disappeared into the library...you weren't there for me when my parents divorced...you didn't even acknowledge me then..." Her words choked in her throat, "Once upon a time, Spinelli, you were queen of a playground, ruling with an iron fist, and I was a pauper with a brain."
"Oh, hell, Gretchen. Is that the game you want to play? Well, I got one for you," Spinelli spat, "You never called me either, you never came over either, you never said 'hi' either or came and played with me at recess either. You never noticed when I stopped coming to school everyday; you never noticed when I started drinking. And don't give me that crap about how I wasn't there for you when your parents split, because you sure as hell weren't there for me when my brother got sent back to jail, or when my grandmother passed away. You weren't there when I crashed my bike and ended up in the hospital for four fucking nights, because you were off happy and wonderful in the California sun, running away from your problems, acting as though they never existed! So don't feed me that shit, because I'm holding just as many trump cards as you."
"Spinelli..." Gretchen faltered, tears flowing freely now, "You're so impossible. I can't talk to you...I can't understand why we were ever friends in the first place...you're such a bitch..."
"I may be a bitch," Spinelli muttered, pulling herself off the couch, "But you're a bitch too...and you're the worst kind of bitch at that...you're a fucking, know-it-all, naïve, ignorant, conceited, doesn't-know-she's-a-bitch bitch. I'm not the one that's oblivious, Gretch, you are."
"Why did you come here, Spinelli?" Gretchen demanded, her voice low and controlled.
"I..." Spinelli clenched her hands into tight fists held at her side, gritting her teeth. She didn't know. "Because I'm a fucking sucker for punishment, apparently," Spinelli sighed, turning to leave.
"Gus is missing," Gretchen called after her, calmly and silently as though it were an answer to a deep and foreboding question.
"Why do you keep saying that?" Spinelli asked, trying to compose herself, but nearly shouting the question.
"Because he is. Because things have gotten serious," Gretchen explained monotonously, "I'm trying not to, but I feel that the worst has befallen him. And I think that the writer of our letters, if in fact it is one person, has taken things to an extreme level, and that he or she is dangerous."
"Than you should contact the police, tell them something happened to Gus," Spinelli replied.
"That would violate the pact."
"You think this has something to do with..."
"I know it does. I just got a call from Mikey. He contacted as many of the pact signers as he could. They all received similar brown envelopes. I haven't had a chance to analyze them, but I will tomorrow at Kelso's," Gretchen told her.
"Screw the pact. Gus is gone," Spinelli began, "We go to the police."
"No," Gretchen replied, "We can't make that decision without all the other pact signers, it wouldn't be fair to them."
"We made the decision to bring it up again without their permission," Spinelli snarled, "I don't know about you, Gretchen, but I'm not interested in standing around and waiting for some psycho to come for me."
"We still don't know for certain Gus's fate, and we haven't given up on him," Gretchen retorted, "The police won't do anything no matter what we tell them. We'd need sufficient evidence of some sort of foul play to begin with. Therefore, I suggest we wait. I'm not completely ruling out contacting the police, and I'm not for sitting around and waiting for the so-called psycho to take us away to whatever unhappy punishment that he or she has concocted for us."
"Then what do you call this?" Spinelli cried, waving her arms about.
"Lack of options," Gretchen shrugged. Spinelli made her way to the front door, receiving no more protests or calls from Gretchen. She left the house behind. That house that she had played in often as a child. That house, which she had loved to visit. That house that had been a huge part of her childhood. That house that she couldn't stand to be in anymore.
-0-0-0-0-
TJ opened his eyes, the world a blur. He searched for his bottle of whiskey, found it sitting nearby him. He was lying in a bed, though he was still too out of it to question why. He grabbed the bottle, downing a great deal of it before setting it back down. He felt someone stir around him, looked about. He wasn't alone, but he couldn't focus, everything was still so contorted from his drunken stupor. Warm hands touched his sides, lips brushing against his own. He couldn't understand what was going on. His mind flew to one thought.
"...Spi...nelli..." he murmured. Those warm hands took the sides of his face almost roughly, lips kissing him.
"I can be her, if you want," a small whisper caressed his ear, "I can be better than her." He didn't understand what was going on, but he didn't argue with it. It was all he needed to be convinced, to fool himself that this woman, though she smelt and felt nothing like the woman he loved, was indeed her. Deep inside of him, he knew that this woman wasn't Spinelli, and could never replace her, but he still continued. Offering kisses, caressing her, removing her clothes. She was larger than Spinelli in areas, more voluptuous, and didn't taste as sweet. She was rough were Spinelli wasn't, hard where Spinelli was soft, indifferent where Spinelli was loving. Somewhere, inside of TJ, he knew that that this would only hurt Spinelli, but he didn't care at that moment, he didn't care about anything at that moment. If this woman could pretend, than so could he. Besides, he was too drunk to care.
END A/N: Okay...hm...Spinelli's mouth is getting pretty foul, but she's a little on the pissed and cranky side, so can you please forgive her? And TJ...bad TJ...you understand what happened there, right? Should I start lining up suspects now? This story is getting so long...
PLEASE REVIEW. I CAN'T SAY THIS ENOUGH. REVIEWS GET ME TO KEEP UPDATING AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF MY STORY. SO PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW. EVEN IF YOU THOUGHT MY STORY WASN'T VERY GOOD I'D APPRECIATE KNOWING WHY NOT SO I CAN IMPROVE UPON THAT AND MAKE IT A MUCH BETTER READ FOR YOU. OR EVEN IF YOU THINK YOU HAVE NOTHING OF VALUE TO WRITE, OR THAT YOU'RE OPINION WON'T MATTER, THIS ISN'T THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION, I CARE WHAT THE PEOPLE THINK...oooo, involving politics, cheap shot...REVIEW! ...I hope that gets your attention...
And thank you for reading my story and please excuse any grammatical and typing errors, though you could point them out to me in a REVIEW...ahem...that's the last one, I swear.
REVIEW! I lied.