A/N: Another long chapter!!!! YAY! man, it's late...
Thanks to the reviewers: TNPD, addictions are good. Stacy, glad you liked that last speech, and the talk with Vitto...Spin just seems like the type who's older brothers would be very overprotective. DarkAngelGuadianLight, yes, chappies. RavenForever, SORRY, I don't mean to...well, yes I do, actually... Sarah, often times I find myself speechless as well, and then I start writting and words just come. PureEvilOne, yay, first time reviewer, I try, I try...
I'm ready to sleep, so....ENJOY!
Chapter 5: Thorns Without Flowers
TJ slumped back to the floor, phone pressed firmly to his ear, dragging the base with him. He closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead.
"Are you alright?" Mrs. Dettwieler asked, "Because you don't sound alright. Are you sleeping well, are you eating good..."
"I'm fine," he snapped, "It's just...there were plenty of times in my life that I needed you to call and ask if I was alright, and suddenly you decide to call me one random night. Or did you call to tell me something happened to dad, or grandma, or something...because that would seem right, you calling, asking about my well being, just to..." he stopped, mentally berating himself for the harsh words. His mother was silent. "Why did you call?"
"Um...it's your sister, she's getting married." TJ laid his head back against the cabinets under the sink. "He's a nice boy, a good Jewish boy from what she says. He's a doctor, a resident at a nice hospital, does a great deal of community service, and he respects his mother..." TJ chewed his tongue, biting hard into it; trying to will himself to hold his mouth shut, but she sounded so excited and so happy raving about this young man.
"But why did you call me?" he hissed. His mother fell silent again.
"I thought you might want to know," she mumbled meekly, "She's bringing him home to meet the family next Thursday night...you know, you're still a part of this family, TJ."
"Am I? Am I, really?" I muttered sarcastically, "Tell Becky...tell her...tell her I said it's about time." He hung up the phone, and buried his head, kicking the phone off the cradle. It slipped across the floor as far as the cord would allow, and the dial tone filled the empty silence.
-0-0-0-0---------------May/June 2000------------------0-0-0-0-
I slumped over my homework, staring blankly at the math equation, and glancing up at the stack of textbooks I had yet to crack open that night. I checked the clock by my bedside again, frowning. It would be twenty more minutes before my scheduled call to the Grundler household with Spinelli. We had to schedule our calls according to my parents sleeping habits, as I wasn't technically allowed to use the phone. I frowned at the paper in front of me. Maybe I could ask Gretchen for help when I called. I studied the numbers I'd written unhappily. I didn't want to cut into my time speaking with Spinelli because I couldn't figure out a stupid math problem. My parents had it arranged that I couldn't see her at school. Now I got to eat lunch with the principle every day and I had a hall monitor personally escorting me between classes. The school excused it as nothing more than wanting to avoid any distractions to the students that the new development in our relationship might cause but I knew it was a load of bull. It reeked of my parents doing.
I glanced up when I heard a car pulling into the street outside of our house. I leaned back in my chair to peek out the window, seeing a young woman step from the vehicle along with a man. I didn't recognize the guy, but I knew that woman was my sister, Becky. I went back to my homework, not incredibly delighted with the fact that my college sibling was home. Wasn't that the great part of having my older sister away at an out-of-state college? I never had to see her or meet her new boyfriend of the week? I heard the door open downstairs, excited chatter.
"Theodore!" my mother called up to me, "Theodore, you're sister just arrived, come down." It was terse, the way she addressed me. I glanced at the clock again, groaned. I wasn't going to make it to my scheduled call and something told me my parents weren't going to bed on time that night.
"I'm doing my homework," I shouted back down. I heard the sounds of someone shuffling up the stairs and saw a form step into my doorway from the corner of my eye. Did I mention my parents stole my door? Something about, ensuring I was in my room at all times and not using the phone behind their backs. I looked over, taken aback at the young man standing there grinning at me. He was tall, thin, his hair loose blonde strands. I wanted to punch his lights out just for being there. Becky came up as well, squeezing past this intruder.
"Hey," the man said, "I'm Doug. So, you're the little brother? It's nice to meet you." He moved forward, his hand outstretched. I didn't move to shake it, or even so much as acknowledge the friendly gesture.
"Yeah, he'd be the jerk I told you about," Becky confirmed, ruffling my hair. I flinched from her touch, attempting to fix what was already a mess to begin with.
"I'm doing my homework," I muttered.
"Where's your door?" Becky asked, looking about the room.
"I'm grounded."
"Yeah, but that doesn't explain why your door is gone." I clenched my jaw, looking away. Obviously my parents hadn't told her what was going on.
"Well, you see, our neo-fascist parents decided to use the big brother approach to my grounding, as I apparently committed a really horrible crime this time," I snarled, tossing my pencil to my desk and leaning back in the chair.
"Hey, I know how parents can be, that's rough," Doug spoke up from the door, "Why don't you go chat with your parents, Beck, while I have a man to man with your brother?" But Becky didn't oblige, snatching my red cap from where it hung on the back of my chair, fidgeting with it.
"What's with you, T-Jerk?" she demanded, "I finally get a chance to come home after several months and I'm really excited because Doug finally gets to meet everyone and you're treating me like I've done something wrong." I didn't say anything. "What did you do, anyways?" I opened my mouth, more than ready to spill the news that I personally thought deserved a nice little celebration party, but I spotted my father standing in the hallway, his arms crossed heavily over his chest.
"Why don't you three come down to the family room so we can all talk," Dad said, and the happy little couple turned to look at him in surprise.
"That sounds like a great idea," Doug exclaimed, clapping his hands together, "You're sister tells me you're a huge Señor fan," he said to me and I scowled at him. The guy looked like the type who popped out of his mother's womb full grown, dressed in a silk Gucci suit, reading the wall street journal. I could tell he was trying to get in good with me, trying to impress me, and for some reason, that really pissed me off.
"It's Fusion," I said, the corner of my lip twitching ever so slightly, and I had the gratifying feeling of watching that smarmy grin falter for a brief moment, "And I have to finish my homework."
"Nonsense, son," my father hissed, "We don't get to see your sister often. Come down, join us, your homework can wait." I glanced at the clock again. Ten minutes, and my parents hadn't even started their bedtime routine. Something told me I wasn't going to be very pleasant during this visit, and that I was really not going to like this Doug guy. He was not a decent conversation replacement for Spinelli. I got up, snatching my hat back from Becky, and followed them out the door.
We gathered in the living room. My father took a seat in his reclining chair, my mother taking her place standing beside him. The happy couple, Becky and Doug, sat cuddled on the couch, and I took a post leaning against the wall as close to the hallway as I could get while still being considered within the room.
"So," my mother started, "Do you two go to the same college, Doug? I mean, how did you meet?"
"Ah, yes. Becky walked into the wrong class one day, a class I was in, and from that moment, when I first laid eyes on her, I was smitten," Doug explained, and I snorted lightly. Everyone turned frowning faces my direction. "Are you alright?" Doug asked me, a little stiffly.
"Fine," I muttered, glancing at the grandfather clock stationed behind my dad. Eight minutes.
"Um...so, what are you majoring in?" my father took up role of inquisitor.
"Business," Doug chuckled, "It's really fascinating, actually, and it's a very lucrative career." I shifted, folding my arms across my chest. "So you won't have to worry, if I ever have the luck of marrying your beautiful daughter, she'll be very well taken care of." He kissed Becky's forehead and she giggled, pushing him playfully and blushing furiously.
"Oh stop," she teased, "Don't let him fool you, we haven't even talked about marriage yet."
"And why not?" my mother demanded. And I felt a pang of heartache.
"Well, it's a little early in the relationship..." Becky chuckled.
"It's never too early to talk about marriage when you're as in love as I am with you," Doug commented.
"So it's love, then?" my mother inquired, trying to steady the sparkling joy bubbling in her voice. I glanced to the clock once more. Three minutes.
"Of course it's love," Doug confirmed, and the gleeful twosome pressed their lips together in the most impassionate kiss I'd ever witnessed. I snorted again, a bit louder. Doug turned to me, trying to maintain that fake glowing grin.
"What?" I demanded, not intending to sound as harsh and cold as I did.
"I'm sorry, but, do you have a problem with me?" he retorted, Brady Bunch anger edging in his voice, "Because I've only been nice to you, so if you have a problem..."
"I'm just a little tired of listening to all this..."
"So, what's new around here?" Becky interrupted, and my mother quickly caught on to the topic change.
"Oh, nothing much..." she answered, "My brownies were once again a smash hit at the Annual Flower Club bake sale. Oh, your father is looking at a promotion." I shook my head, looking up at the clock, and feeling this almost snap inside of me, noticing that the scheduled time had come and gone and hearing my mother say, "A wedding would be beautiful, Becky. Now, I know you're still in college and worrying about your future, but to be honest, when you're in love you're in love."
"You're not gonna tell her, are you?" I asked, scratching the back of my neck, looking out at them with a pained glare.
"Tell her what?" my mother feigned naivety, "I honestly don't know what you're talking about." I pushed myself away from the wall.
"I'm out of here, I've had my fill of bullshit for the night," I spat, trying to will myself to turn and leave, but staying planted where I was, unable to keep my mouth shut, unable to hold in those awful accusation, "Do you honestly think that if you don't talk about it, that if you don't tell her about it, or anyone for that matter, it'll make it as if it never happened?"
"What's he talking about?" Becky demanded, shooting me a dangerous look.
"Apologize to your mother," my father growled, "And your sister, and her date. Right now, young man."
"No," I had never spoken back to my father like that. I was a cheeky kid, but I knew the boundaries of respect, and I knew I had just crossed those boundaries. My father was on his feet, and I could see Doug blanch. I couldn't help but smirk at that, the idea that this man found my father scary. He needed to meet Bob Spinelli and the Spinelli boys, now they could strike fear in a prospective bachelor's heart.
"Do not think for one minute..." he began.
"What? You asked me to come down here and participate in this little family get together, and I did. I'm sorry if I just can't stand listening to all this crap you're spewing. You're such hypocrites," I spat, "You think you can erase it. You can't. Sooner or later, everyone's going to know, and everyone has to know, because it happened, it's done."
"What is he talking about?" Becky cried in exasperation, on her feet.
"I'm sorry, sis, maybe I should let you in on the little joke," I said, turning my attention to her, "You see, our parents, want you to get married regardless of whatever consequences it may reign on your future, because you're in love, right? So it's okay. But when it comes to me, our parents have a completely warped view. See, me, getting married, ruins my future and it doesn't matter how much I love the girl, and regardless of the fact that we did it all for the right reasons, it was still a big mistake that will mar my life forever, unless that is, I let our wonderful parents get it annulled." I could see the gears turning in her head as she slowly started to comprehend what I was saying, but I wasn't interested in seeing if she finally put two and two together as I turned to head for the door.
"Theodore Jerome Dettwieler," my mother snarled and I froze dead in my tracks. Your full name is like a magic phrase that can fill you with this immense and overwhelming feeling of dread, especially when it comes from your mother, "You do not, for one instant, treat any person in this household with that kind of disrespect. And, you do not, for any selfish reason you may have, act with that attitude and total disregard of manners towards a guest in this house. You were raised better then that."
"I'm eighteen, mom," I retorted, "I'm an adult. You can't tell me what to do anymore." My father grabbed my arm, jerking me around to face him.
"You're so eager to be an adult? So eager to make adult decisions like marriage? Then maybe you should do the adult thing and get the heck out of my house," he shouted. I shook my head at him, pulling from his grasp, slipping my cap on and heading to the door.
"You know," I began, stopping, my hand resting on the brass knob, "You make all these speeches about how you care about my future, and you don't want me to ruin my future, and that this whole 'ordeal' is going to do just that. But you're so full of shit. You're right, dad, I'll do the adult thing. I'll drop out of high school, start working full-time, and buy a run down apartment. Because apparently that's not a screwed up future compared to the one I already have laid out." I flung the door open.
"Where do you think you're going?" my mother demanded, her voice a high-pitched screech.
"To the only person who apparently gives a fuck about my future. You know, my wife, Spinelli," I slammed the door shut behind me and tore down the street.
Gretchen only lived a few blocks away and I think I hit a record time, reaching the Grundler driveway in under two minutes. I was surprised to find Spinelli sitting on the front porch, wrapped in a heavy wool-knit sweater and oversized jeans. She stood, making her way towards me, when I arrived, slowing my pace to a walk, working at composing my heavy breathing. I stopped at the edge of the lawn.
"I got worried, when you didn't call," she explained as to why she was sitting on the porch, "I was considering going to your house...what's wrong?" I shook my head, trying to ignore the ache in my chest, the tears welling in my eyes, that torn feeling between pain from the argument with my parents and joy from having Spinelli standing right in front of me for the first time in nearly two weeks. I buried my face in her shoulder, and she wrapped an arm around my neck.
"Teej...you're trembling," she whispered, her voice cracking with fear and uncertainty.
"I don't know if I can handle this any longer," I breathed against the bare skin of her neck, taking her hands with my own and reveling in her scent, "I don't know if I can handle being away from you like this any longer. I know I couldn't keep handling my parents dancing around this and covering it up. Treating it like this dirty secret, like we'd committed murder or some horrible sin. God, Spin, I need you."
"You have me, Teej," she said softly, her warm words caressing my ear, "I belong to you. All of me, I'm yours, and there's nothing they can do about that." I pulled back, our eyes connecting, "Even if they can hide this, even if they can separate us, and keep us apart. Even if they could make this go away, erase it, or if they could send us to opposite ends of the globe, it wouldn't matter," she smiled, pulling away from my clasp and throwing out her arms wide, twirling, and crying into the empty air and down the sleeping streets, "Because I am the property of Theodore Jerome Dettweiler, and there is nothing anyone can do about it!" I grinned.
"How is it possible that I love you more when I thought my love for you was already endless?" She faced me once more and strung her arms over my shoulders, around my neck, having to stand on her tiptoes to draw me into a kiss, and I willingly obliged her, slipping my own arms around her puffy sweater engulfed waist.
That night, for the first time since our wedding night, I slept beside Spinelli. We took up occupancy on the Grundler couch, my arms wrapped about her. I couldn't remember when I'd had a more peaceful sleep. Gretchen woke us up early in the morning, pushing me out the front door.
"If my parents caught you two..." she'd scolded, her nostrils flaring, her eyes lit with anger. Spinelli pressed her leather jacket in my hands, a hand-me-down from her older brother Joey before he'd taken off on his cross-country motorcycle trip.
"It's cold out," she'd explained, kissing me gently, "I don't know when I'll see you again..." I pulled her close to me, kissing her forehead.
"Today," I told her, "I have a plan."
-0-0-
I had a lot of experience sneaking in and out of my room through my window. I had gotten fairly skilled at climbing to the roof of my house having had a great deal of practice in my eighteen years of life. It didn't take me long to swing up from the small tree at the side of the house onto the roof and crawl to my window, lifting it up. I was surprised, to say the least, to find my sister sitting on my bed. She frowned at me, obviously not approving of my approach to getting in the house.
"It's not like mom and dad locked you out," she commented, "I mean, they actually spent most of the night waiting for you to come home. I could hear them down there, practicing the 'good talking to' they were going to give you."
"Which is why I didn't use the front door, which is why I won't use the front door when I go for school," I replied, making my way to my closet and shuffling through my clothes in search of a clean shirt. I threw the leather jacket to the bed and noticed that Becky was holding a crisp white sheet of paper in her hand. I frowned, "You went through my things?"
"It wasn't like it was well hidden, it was just stuffed between your comic books. Doug found it, he was looking through them," she muttered. I scowled at the thought of that guy getting his greasy fingers on my precious collection, "I don't understand why you're doing this; why you did this. Is Spinelli in trouble?"
"Why does everybody jump to that conclusion?" I snapped, "No, she's not in trouble. No, there's no possible way she is in trouble and is just keeping it from me. If you really must know," I snatched the letter from Becky's hands, "I'm the one who asked her to marry me and it has nothing to do with anything except for our love."
"But, TJ, do you have any idea what that letter means?" Becky demanded, up on her feet.
"Yeah, it means that I can take Spinelli and get the hell out of this god forsaken town, away from our parents with their fucked up ideals and screwy plans for our futures that we want no part of," I answered, ripping a shirt from it's hanger and heading towards my bathroom. The toilet flushed inside and the door swung open, Doug standing there staring down at me. The slick smile across his lips faded. He wasn't exactly fully clothed and I closed my eyes.
"If I find a used condom in there..."
"You'll what?" Doug whispered, just loud enough for me to hear, just soft enough for Becky not to. After the night before, all pleasantries between us were gone. Not that there were any on my part to begin with. "Hit me?"
"No," I said, pushing my way past, "But I'll introduce you to my wife, and she'll hit you." I shut the door behind me.
"TJ," Becky called, "We're not done talking." I changed quickly, washed my face and brushed my teeth, ignoring her. "Fine, I'll talk and you can listen. Mom and dad are right, you should get it annulled." I swished some mouthwash; spat it out in the sink. Peeked in the trashcan, relieved to find nothing, and then eyed the toilet miserably. Doug wouldn't be that cruel, would he?
"Beck, let's go back to bed," I heard Doug whimper, "Leave the kid alone."
"Go by yourself," came the snapped reply from my sister, "TJ," she was back to talking to me, "What do you plan on doing? Going to a college out of state, dragging Spinelli along. Where are you going to live?"
"The dorm," I replied, swinging the door open and shoving my way out.
"And where's Spinelli going to live?"
"With me, in the dorms. They have rooms for married couples," I explained peevishly. I'd never even planned on telling anyone outside the gang about our plans until after graduation, when everything was set in place, and I'd already know which college I was accepted in and going to.
"Really? And what college is going to let a young woman live in the dorms that isn't attending classes at the school? Because that's how it works. You both have to attend the college. I can't think of any that don't follow that policy."
"I know of three," I argued, "I've spoken to them on the phone, and I'm applying to them."
"Three? TJ, can you imagine how limited those schools will be? What do you plan on majoring in?"
"I haven't decided, maybe business." That was meant to be a jab at Doug, and she caught it, wincing.
"Have you thought about Spinelli?"
"What the hell kind of question is that?" I demanded, "All I've been thinking of is Spinelli."
"I'm just saying, TJ, what about her? Maybe she's not exactly ecstatic with this whole idea. She'd have a chance of furthering her education at the community college here, but if she goes with you...there's no way she could get into an out-of-state college, no matter how low scale it is," Becky shook her head, "You're being selfish TJ. I know the grades Spinellis pull, I went to school with Vitto remember? He was lucky he graduated, he ditched most of the year."
"I know I'm being selfish, but I also know that Spinelli wants this," I muttered, tossing my books into my backpack and glancing over my unfinished schoolwork. If I hurried, I could get to the school early enough to finish. "Why do you care so much about all of this, anyways? Why's it any of your business?"
"Because you're my little brother..."
"Then you should be happy for me," I spun on her.
"Because I'm supposed to be first. Because it's not fair," she spat, "I'm supposed to be married first. You're just a kid, you little jerk, you're not even supposed to know what love is yet. You're not supposed to be interested in getting married and tied down. You're mind should be on whatever hot little number with legs walks by and looks like she's interested or drunk enough to sleep with you. You're mind's supposed to be on getting wasted and partying the night away, not spending nights sleeping next to the same girl for the rest of your life. What am I going to tell my friends at school? I get a slime ball frat boy slobbering on my neck, and my brat brother's already married, even though he's still in high school. I'm supposed to be first, TJ. I started dating before you even knew how to tie your own damn shoes and..."
"You know what, Becky? Maybe if you weren't such a bitter bitch you'd have someone who treated you with respect, and you wouldn't have to be jealous of your little brother's relationship," I snarled, flinging my backpack over my shoulder before climbing out the window and jumping to the ground below. I was getting pretty good at running as I sprinted to the school.
-0-0-
My escort was a burly hall monitor, a woman that went by the name Shirley. She was almost six-feet tall, her hair falling in thick red-knotted curls around her pug face. She would follow me like a bulldog set on a smaller animal, hounding me from class to class, prodding me if I took my time or paused because I, or at least thought I glanced Spinelli in the hallway. She'd wait outside my classroom, impatiently, constantly peeking in the door, as though making sure I hadn't somehow disappeared in mid-air. I would wave cheekily at her whenever she peeked in and she would scowl at me rather unpleasantly. I like to think that I'm starting to soften her up.
In order to see Spinelli, I had to get around that bulky woman, which was not an easy task. She never took breaks, never used the restroom. Legend had it that she used to work as a prison warden, until she was fired for being too rough on the inmates. Her eyes were always on me, which, of course, was creepy in itself.
My plan was simple, only made complex by its dependency on timing. It involved me giving Shirley the slip, and it would take the entire gangs help. I'd left the plan with Gretchen, who passed it on to the others. Now, on my way between third and fourth period, Shirley and I always pass the bathrooms. It's the quickest most efficient route between those rooms,, according to Shirley, not to mention, it's extremely out of Spinelli's way. As I saw the bathrooms come into sight, I caught a glimpse of Vince by the lockers, speaking with Mikey. He shot me thumbs up, a cue that everything was in place.
"I have to use the restroom," I said, without hesitation. Shirley stopped, turning an angry glare on me.
"We don't have time," she snarled.
"I really have to go," I assured her, dancing from one foot to the other for good measure. Shirley sighed, glancing to the bathrooms, then shrugged.
"Alright, let's go," she said, leading me to the bathroom, opening the door and making to come in with me.
"What are you doing? You can't watch me," I protested, "You're not allowed in the boys' restroom." Her upper lip curled in anger.
"Fine," she growled, "I'll be waiting outside." I sighed with relief when the door finally shut behind me and I was alone. I strained my ears, listening as Mikey's voice came in.
"I'm sorry," he was apologizing, "I didn't mean to run into you..." I heard hacking coughs and cracked the door slightly to peek out, seeing Gus on his knees, clutching his chest and making a fit. Shirley stepped forward to help Mikey compose the boy.
"What's wrong?" she demanded, patting Gus's back, only seeming to succeed in making it worse. With her full attention on Gus, I opened the bathroom door, slowly slipping out and Gretchen practically shoved me into the girl's room.
"You have two minutes tops," she told me before shutting the door and positioning herself as guard. I glimpsed around the girls' room, never having actually been in one. Spinelli was leaning against the sinks, her eyes staring at the tiles. I scanned the room, double checking that we were, indeed, alone. I stepped forward.
"Spinelli?" She looked up, turned to me. Something was wrong, and I felt my heart jump to my throat. She wasn't looking directly at me, wasn't meeting my eyes. I moved to touch her, and she pulled away, walking to the far side of the bathroom. That morning she'd been fine. Something had happened. "What's wrong?" I asked, studying her carefully.
"Maybe...maybe..." she whispered, her voice shaking, "Maybe we should...maybe we should get it annulled..."
"What?" I narrowed my eyes at her, surprised by the pain that erupted in my chest.
"Nobody...no one wants us together..." she slumped against the wall, "They're going to great lengths to keep us apart...and...to make us feel like we'd made the wrong choice. I have girls I don't even know, that I've never seen before coming up to me and calling me a slut or something equally demeaning. My parents won't even acknowledge my existence...I can't live at the Grundler house forever and..."
"So what you're saying is it's not worth it? That our love, that our being together isn't enough to put up with this for a few more weeks."
"No! That's not what I'm saying...I'm saying...I just think, I've been thinking...maybe...maybe we should get it annulled and wait. We can wait; we love each other, Teej. I can wait for you here and you can go to a great college and...and...get a great education and a good job, any job you want and...I can wait...and..."
"Spin, what do you want?" I demanded.
"I think that..."
"No," I snapped, coming close to her, close enough to hear her shaking, to see her tears dropping from her chin. "What do you want? Look me in the eyes, Spinelli, and tell me what you want."
"Teej..." she mumbled, falling silent. She looked up slowly, her eyes meeting my own, those deep dark orbs that I never grew tired of looking into, that were so filled with pain and misery and something...something else that I couldn't read, that I couldn't understand, "I want it annulled," she whispered. I nodded, turning from her, kicked one of the stall doors in my frustration, and made my way to the exit. I didn't care what Shirley thought when I came out and walked by her towards my classroom. I heard Gus stop with the fake choking, and knew that everyone in the hall was following me with their eyes. I didn't care.
-0-0-
I walked outside of the school building following the flow of the students forcing their ways out to the freedom only offered by the end of the academic day. I made my way over to where my mother waited for me, somewhat surprised that she'd come at all, and slightly dissapointed.
"TJ!" I heard a voice call, turning to glance over my shoulder. It was Gretchen, running to catch up; she stopped in front of my mother and me out of breath. "Hello, Mrs. Dettwieler. Do you mind if I steal him for a moment, as it is imperative that I discuss a particular math problem with him that he'd inquired about? I just want to ensure that he understood the mechanics of it." My mother frowned, not impressed by the story, but nodded all the same. I let Gretchen drag me a little ways, out of my mother's hearing range.
"What?" I hissed, glancing in my mother's direction, "I never asked you about a math problem..."
"What happened in that restroom? Because Spinelli ditched the rest of school, and she looked like...well, for lack of a better term, hell!" I looked away. It wasn't something I wanted to be reminded of.
"Spinelli...she wants it annulled," I mumbled.
"What?" Needless to say, Gretchen was utterly shocked.
"That's what she said," I spat, "That she wanted to give up, that she couldn't take it anymore. She wants it annulled."
"Oh no..." Gretchen moaned, "Becky!"
"What?" it was my turn to be shocked.
"This morning...Becky came over and requested conference with Spinelli...I didn't think anything of it...I...and Spinelli said that it would be alright..." I shook my head, not certain how to exert the rage boiling in my system. "Was it good that I told you?" Gretchen asked, noting the look that crossed my face. I nodded, giving her a quick peck on the forehead.
"Yes, it's very good that you told me," I said, "I have to go." I turned, leaving Gretchen who stood watching me awkwardly. I sat in silence next to my mother in the car as she drove. She glanced at me every so often, but it was evident she didn't want to yell at me when my father wasn't present. It was odd, my mother having nothing to say. When we reached the house I didn't even wait for the car to come to a complete stop before I exited, throwing the front door open. I'd had plenty of time to let my emotions fester, sorting out exactly what needed to be said to Becky, of course, none of those things would be said as I was blinded by my anger. I found her in the living room; she was on the couch making out with her boyfriend.
"We need to talk," I sneered, and the couple fell apart, shame faced at being caught in the compromising position.
"TJ?" Becky gasped, but Doug was on his feet already.
"Who do you think you are?" I yelled, my eyes focused entirely on my sister. "What did you tell her?"
"I think you should get lost, kid," Doug spat, "You're causing your sister a great deal of stress and..."
"What are you talking about?" Becky stuttered to me, shocked and obviously embarrassed, disregarding Doug all together.
"Spinelli. What did you say to her?"
"TJ, what is going on?" my mother demanded, then, looking about the room, "I think you owe your sister an apology."
"No, mom, she owes me an apology, and an explanation while she's at it," I roared. I was tired of this hypocrisy. Becky's allowed to say what she wants, but if I defend myself I owe her an apology? "What did you say to Spinelli?"
"The truth," she snapped, "I told her the truth. I told her how I felt about this, how everyone felt about this, and...to be honest, I told her why you were really doing it."
"What does she mean?" my mother interrupted, "What do you mean, Becky?"
"It's all about some stupid scholarship," she went on bitterly, "He got this scholarship for any college he wants to go to. Except there's a catch, if he tells you guys about it, he gets sent to a big out-of-state college, sent away from his girlfriend. That's why he married her, so that he could take her along."
"Is that true, TJ?" my mother reeled on me, "TJ, is that true?"
"You also tell her how jealous you are of her, Becky?" I whispered roughly, trying to fight that anger rushing through my blood. I was afraid of what the anger was causing me to think, the violent urges that it was pumping through my heart, "How much you envy her? Because she can love, because she's with someone who loves her? Did you tell her that?"
"You don't know anything about..."
"And you don't know anything about why I married her. You know, she used to look up to you. She thought of you as the older sister she never had, because you were so nice to her and treated her like you two were sisters," I turned, pushing my way up to the stairs, to my room, "Stay away from me, Becky, and stay the fuck away from my wife."
-0-0-
I locked myself in my bathroom, the only sanctuary I had left in that house. My father came up, banged on it awhile, yelled until his voice grew hoarse, then left. I slept in there, sitting against the door, and woke up the next morning stiff necked. I left the house before anyone else was awake, stumbled to the school with my backpack and took up residency on the front steps working on finishing my homework. I waited, as I knew Gretchen would be there as early as possible with Spinelli in tow. But when I saw my bespectacled friend, I noticed that my wife was not, in fact, with her.
"Where's Spin?" I asked, as soon as Gretchen was near enough. Other students were gathering around, and I faintly heard the first bell ring.
"She was gone when I woke up," Gretchen answered with a shrug for emphasis. She helped me to my feet and we entered the school together. "I'll look for her," Gretchen said, standing beside her homeroom class, "I tried talking to her last night...but...she just...she locked herself in the bathroom and she wouldn't come out..." I nodded, saying my goodbyes and frowning as Shirley made her way over to me, prodding me to my own class. I made it through three periods before I couldn't take it anymore. I excused myself to the restroom, and Shirley, knowing that Spinelli wasn't present at school that day, waited as I slipped into the bathroom.
"Hey TJ," a boy I knew greeted and I nodded his direction, before pulling myself up on one of the sinks and flinging open the nearest window. "What are you doing?"
"Keep it down, will ya'?" I told him, squeezing my backpack out the window and hearing it plop to the ground with a heavy thud. I then pulled myself through as the few boys in the restroom watched in awe.
"How did he..." I heard one boy start.
"Don't you know anything? That's TJ Dettwieler," I heard another interrupt the first.
"Whoa, really? I thought he was just some made up guy...that's really him?" And that was the last I heard as I fell to the ground outside and scanned the area while dusting myself off. It wasn't that hard to just leave after that, as it wasn't like the gates were locked or anything.
I made my way down the street, no one stopping me or paying me any mind. I found myself at Third Street Elementary, staring in at the playground. I don't know why I'd come there. It had been almost a sub-conscious act.
I'd had so many great times on that playground. I strained my eyes. There was someone on the swings, the silhouette of a figure I could recognize even if I was half blind. I squeezed my way through the gates, ditching my backpack and walking over towards the jungle gym, with the swing set attached. Spinelli sat with her back to me, wavering in the swing, but never actually kicking into the air.
"Hey," she greeted dully, not bothering to turn, as always, she somehow just knew it was me, "Aren't you supposed to be at school?"
"Aren't you?" I retorted lightly, "Why am I not surprised to find you here?"
"You mad at me?"
"No. I'm mad at Becky," I muttered, "What she said...it wasn't...Spin..." The bell rang, and the doors of the school flung open, kids pouring out. "It's recess," I knew, without even having to look up at the clock. I recognized the rush, the laughter, and the excitement crossing the faces of those children. I'd been one of them once, "We should go."
"Do you remember..." she started, with no intention of leaving the swing, despite the odd glances we received from the many children surrounding us as they went to play, "When we were in kindergarten...and the Ashleys caught us holding hands? It was a misunderstanding, of course, you were just helping me up off the ground but...but they said that we had to get married because of it. We didn't know, then, what conniving little liars the Ashleys really were...so...we believed them. And they set up this whole...this whole ceremony type thing...and they made me wrap this stupid white sheet around myself and they tied a ribbon around your neck, 'cause they said that's how you're supposed to dress for getting married. It went smoothly at first, remember, but then it all went downhill when they got to the part where they said we had to kiss, and you and the guys went running off in one direction and me and the girls took off in the other." I smirked.
"I can't believe you still remember that."
"Of course I do. That was the day I decided you were the one I was going to marry," I could hear the smile in her voice, but I could hear the tears as well.
"We were five," I commented, a little taken aback.
"I know," she said, "And I didn't really know what marriage was then, I just thought it was a little party you had with some boy you liked and that you got to wear this big frilly dress and hold hands and you just told each other you liked one another and ate a cake. That's why I decided it had to be you, because I didn't mind you, and your hand wasn't so bad to touch. I figured you didn't have cooties." I stepped forward, closer, touching the long chain that held the swing up. "Do you know why I said yes?" I was silent. "It wasn't because of some elaborate plan to keep us together despite the fact you were going away to college and I had no where to go. No, that wasn't it at all. It was because you were on your knee saying the four words I waited my entire life for you to say." She turned then, meeting my eyes and they were so clear and perfect. "To hell with our parents, Teej, to hell with your sister, to hell with everyone at school, to hell with everyone else in the world. I've waited long enough."
"It was never about the scholarship, Spinelli, we were getting married either way," I told her, kneeling to eye-level with her, "You know, that I love you. At first, I was afraid of losing you when I had to go away to college so I had this idea in my head...but the more I thought about it and the more I developed this plan...the more I realized that the scholarship was just an excuse, just my excuse to ask you, almost like insurance. It was never the real reason, though Spin, I asked you because I wanted to. I won't get it annulled, Spinelli, I won't let them erase the one thing in my life that I've ever really cared about. That I've ever really wanted."
"Miss Finster," I heard a little boy cry in the distance, "They aren't supposed to be on the playground!" I brushed the tears from Spinelli's eyes, glancing up to see the elderly hunch of a woman making her way over; scowling at us. She hadn't changed much.
"I'm sorry," Spinelli whispered, "I just...the things Becky said..."
"Just tell me what you really want," I whispered, pushing the hair from her face, "Just look me in the eyes and tell me what you really want." She looked up, meeting my gaze.
"What are you two hooligans doing over there? You little delinquents..." Miss Finster was yelling, almost upon us.
"You," Spinelli whispered, and a grin spread across my face.
"Good answer," I said, pulling her towards me into a kiss. I saw, from the corner of my eye Miss Finster stop dead in her tracks gaping at us, and the kids stopped playing. Laughter, noise, screaming, everything around us stopped. And I pulled Spinelli closer. Someone tapped my shoulder, and I pulled away, begrudgingly from Spinelli, looking into the face of my former Principle.
"Principle Prickly, sir, how are you?" I asked cheekily, grinning up at him. He squinted his eyes at me, adjusting his glasses, before glancing up at Miss Finster, almost looking for confirmation. The old gal was staring down at Spinelli and myself with narrowed slits of eyes as well.
"Dettwieler...?" Prickly questioned.
"...And...little Miss Spinelli," Finster let her upper lip curl into a smirk.
"And I thought I was rid of you..." Prickly shook his head, before glancing about a yelling, "What are you kids gaping at? Get back to playing!" The students broke into runs, turning away and returning to what they'd been doing.
"Actually, Miss Finster," Spinelli said, grinning at me, "It's Mrs. Dettwieler now." I don't think it truly hit us until that moment what we'd done those several days ago, but I didn't mind that feeling pounding in my chest, and I sure as hell didn't mind those stunned looks that crossed our former teachers faces.
"Congratulations," Prickly patted my shoulder heartily; "It took you two long enough."
"It's about time," Miss Finster commented, and tears began to spill down Spinelli's cheeks. And I understood her feelings, her happiness, because here were two people who knew, who didn't question, didn't criticize, that just knew the reasons behind what we'd done.
-0-0-0-0------------------Present Time-----------------0-0-0-0-
Gretchen walked into the lobby, removing her white coat, and wiping her damp forehead. She'd already been at the hospital for eight hours without break; it had been another rough night. She leaned over the front counter to peer at the assistant on duty.
"Are there any calls for me?"
"No, Dr. Grundler," the young woman answered politely. Gretchen scrunched her face, felt her heart nearly jump. It was Wednesday. "Why? Are you expecting a call, because I can..."
"No," Gretchen stuttered, "I'm not. I'm not expecting any calls...thank you..." She barely made it to her office, slumping against her closed door and crumpling on the floor, bursting into tears. She looked to her desk, pictures adorning it of her family, of Vince, Gus, Mikey, and TJ. Then the phone, sitting there, still and silent. And she felt like she was suffocating in her own office.
-0-0-
Mikey slipped into his trailer on the movie set, smiling at the young woman waiting for him. He didn't feel like smiling. She came to him, pressed a deep kiss to his lips that he accepted and returned passionately. He didn't want to kiss her. He helped himself to a beer and followed her to the table she had been sitting at when he'd arrived. He didn't want to follow her. They took seats at opposite ends of the table and she pushed over the little tray, with a razor and white powder atop it, and he pushed the powder together in a neat line. He didn't want to touch it.
"What's the matter, Michael," the woman asked, he couldn't quite recall her name. He'd only met her the night before. He didn't want to recall her name.
Mikey shook his head, lowered himself and in one quick intake of breath, the powder was gone. The world spun, it all seemed like a big joke, everything, he burst into laughter, and he looked to the wall, to the far side of his trailer. There was a picture of a beautiful young woman with dark hair and darker eyes, whose name he couldn't recall at that moment either. But it wasn't because he didn't want to. He really wanted to, found himself struggling to. You big lummox. She was frowning at him, scolding him, scowling at him, disapproving of him. But who was she?
The world melted before Mikey's eyes in a rush of colors. Why wasn't he feeling the way he should? Why was his face wet? Why were his eyes leaking? Why couldn't he smile? Who was that woman? She was important to him, that much he could figure, but everything was a haze, his eyes were clouded. The world went dark, and a woman was screaming, but not the woman whose name he wanted to remember. No, it was the other one. The one he didn't want to recall. Because she was a part of that life. The life he didn't want.
-0-0-
Gus stood at attention in front of his commanding officer and attempted to glance unnoticed to the obstacle course he was supposed to run through that day.
"Private Griswold," the officer snapped and Gus straightened, "Since you seem so interested in the Crawl, why don't you impress us all by giving us the first run through of the day."
"Sir, with pleasure, sir," Gus accepted, attempting to run with exuberance towards the great wooden structure otherwise known as the Crawl. He scaled the wall with ease, finding himself at the top of the great tower within an instant, crawling his way through nets, maneuvering his way around holes in the floor, and finding himself at the small tunnel where he would be expected to shimmy over a small break in the wood, and shuffle through to the other side, and he would then begin his descent. He halted, staring into the void of darkness and gulped. He tried to will himself through, felt the sweat trickle down his forehead to his chin.
"What's wrong with me?" Gus muttered beneath his breath. He'd never had trouble with the Crawl before, in fact, he held a record time at defeating the gigantic obstacle course. Gus frowned at that deep hole, shuffling forward slightly, and stopping. He felt something worming from out of his breast pocket, and raised his hand to catch the object too late. He watched it, a shining gold circle, its clasp opening mid-air, falling through the catch net to the ground below and shattering on the hard blacktop. He knew what it was, without having to look down and see the broken pieces, he knew what it was. He fell through that gap in the wood, wanting to slip through the net and shatter on the ground below as well. He didn't mind the locket breaking so much as the picture that had occupied it blowing away in the wind. Like the person the picture was of, just disappearing into the horizon.
When Gus's fellow soldiers managed to pull him from the catch net, he was in tears, bawling like a child, hunched within himself. He slumped to the ground, gathering the pieces of the locket while the other soldiers watched in gaping awe, uncertain what to do. Even the commanding officer was silent.
"I'm sorry..." he was whispering, "I'm sorry..."
-0-0-
Vince tossed his glove into the tall locker designated as his before slamming it shut. He watched, from the corner of his eye, several of his teammates leaving. They waved goodbye to him and he nodded in acknowledgement. There was a pat on his shoulder and he glanced over to find the Coach glowering wryly at him.
"We need to talk, LaSalle, about your performance these past couple days," Coach said.
"Sure thing, Coach," Vince straightened, slipping his jacket up onto his shoulders.
"I've been disappointed lately in you. I've never seen you so out of focus, so...let's just say, I've come to expect better of my star pitcher." Vince scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
"Sorry, there's just...a lot's been going on..." he started to explain.
"Hey, LaSalle," one of the teammates called into the locker room, "There's some woman out here asking for you...says she needs to see you. She looks really upset."
"Who is it?" Vince asked, buttoning up his jacket.
"I don't know, she isn't really saying much. She's a real hot red-head though..." Vince felt his heart skip a beat.
"I'm sorry, Coach, I've got to deal with this. I'm working on it, though, I promise...I just...there's been a lot going on and...I'll try not to take it to the field with me anymore," Vince was out of the locker room in a minute, finding Gretchen leaning against the wall outside of the exit door. She looked so fragile, her face splotchy red, and she appeared to have been crying. They're eyes met and she burst into tears. Without hesitation, she was in his arms.
"He's right...Vince...he's right..." she sobbed, "I'm so sorry...it's just...it's Wednesday and Spinelli was supposed to call, but she can't call, because she's dead..." Vince lifted Gretchen into his arms, carrying her into the locker room and setting her on the bench. He knelt in front of her, pushing the hair from her face.
"Hey, LaSalle, what'd you do to the girl?" one of the remaining teammates in the locker room asked, "Don't worry, little lass, he may seem like a big bad wolf, but he's a puppy dog at heart." Vince ignored the man, concentrating entirely on Gretchen.
"Gretch, what's really wrong?" Vince whispered.
"He's right," she choked out, "I pushed her out of my mind, I made it so she didn't exist. I didn't want to deal with the pain...I didn't want it to have happened...I didn't...I wanted to move on, to get back to my life...I'm sorry...so I erased her...I...I...I forgot about her. I just wanted it to be over...how can I call myself her best friend...god...I...I put all her pictures away, took them all down, because I can't look at them anymore...because then I remember that she was here, that she existed, that she was in my life and that I loved her and that she was my best friend...and I don't want to remember all those things, I don't want to remember that she's dead and that she's gone and that...I pushed her aside, I painted over her with my pretty new life..."
"Gretch..."
"I'm a bad friend, Vince...I'm a horrible friend. My best friend died and I erase her...I didn't grieve as long as I should have...I should have been sadder...I shouldn't be happy...I should never be happy...I can't even face her pictures anymore, or the memories I have of her..." Gretchen buried herself in Vince's shoulder. He rubbed her back soothingly, wrapping his other hand around a golden pin casually shoved in his pocket. He didn't wear it anymore. Not to his games...not to practice...never.
The big leagues...that's something else...try not to screw up. I doubt I will, so long as you come to all my games. Well...just in case I can't make it to one, here. What's this? My substitute...if I can't be at the game, you'll still have this...I don't know, it sounds corny...but I guess it'll remind you that I'm out there rootin' for ya', so don't screw up.
"We both pushed her out of our lives, Gretch," Vince admitted, sighing haggardly, "We weren't bad friends, you aren't a bad friend, we just...we were scared. We weren't sure we could...I don't know...go on without her. She was the brave one, and for once in our lives, we had to be brave without her. Maybe...maybe...we thought if we had never needed her before, we wouldn't need her now. And TJ, he was always the strong one, and suddenly we had to be strong for him and...god, Gretch, we were really bad at it."
"TJ was right..." Gretchen sniffled.
"He's always right," Vince told her, tightening the embrace, "I guess that's one of the things we love about him."
-0-0-
TJ woke up in the middle of the night, staring up at the ceiling of his living room. He slept on the couch every night as he refused to sleep in his bed. It felt too big, too cold, too alone. He frowned at that ceiling trying to figure out what exactly had woken him up. There was a knock on the door, and suddenly he remembered. He stumbled through the darkness towards the entranceway, thoughts of several curse words he could impart on his late-night visitor rushing through his head. He swung the door open and was startled to find the gang standing before him. Well...not the entire gang.
"Mikey's in the hospital," Vince explained, "We thought you'd want to know. He's okay, just...it was a drug overdose."
"Oh," TJ mumbled. What were you supposed to say to that kind of news?
"We can't go see him," Vince continued, "Because his publicist is trying to keep this as...well..."
"They don't want anyone to know about it," Gus interrupted, the words harsh and frustrated, "We're his best friends, and we're not allowed to see him..."
"We are...still...best friends, right?" Gretchen inquired, standing silent and still. They all looked so ghostly in the moonlight.
"Yeah," TJ muttered. He couldn't find the strength to say anything else. He reached forward, pulling Gretchen into a hug, brushing a quick kiss against her cheek. He accepted embraces from Gus and then Vince next. They stood there in silence after that, each one afraid to talk. Each one knowing what the others felt, like they'd almost lost another piece of their whole that night.
END A/N: hm...damn Mikey, what's wrong with him? I didn't want to be too descriptive with the drug scene, so, does everyone approve of how I wrote it?
Ya'll better REVIEW this, each and everyone of you that read, 'cause I'm going to class dead tired tomorrow morning for you guys. Just tell me what you think, a little blurb is all I ask.
I feel like I forgot something...awww heck, please excuse any grammatical and typing errors.
THANKS for READING, and I'll see ya'll around.
when i come around...