A/N: I play right field...it's important to know...you got to know how to catch, you got to know how to throw...that's why I play right field...way out where the dandalions grow....-That song is important, as it's where the title of this chapter comes from.
Thanks to the reviewers:
TNPD: I did vote. I feel as though my vote were useless.
RavenForever: No answers for you, yet. And no, my Halloween sucked.
PureEvilOne: He didn't really go there to confront his parents...it's not like he has a list or something (...now that I've ruined my parents evening and got them to admit their mistakes it's time to move on to the Spinellis...and next stop...babalou!...)
DAGL: Are you a tiger?
Stacy: Yeah, I found that little remark of Spin's particularly amusing...I really enjoyed writing that chap, and guess what followed it, my happy time of the month! Ironic? I hate the cosmos.
xXxSarahxXx: Yeah, it's Spanish, from Shakira's song "Que me Quedes Tu". Pero can mean dog in Spanish, in the right context (Pero caliente hot dog). Pero que me quedes tu - "But I have left you", y me quede tu abrazo - "And I have left your hug". Shakira is one of my favorite singers, her spanish songs are all so pretty.
SteffieWitter26: I like your long reviews. I totally approve of long reviews...lots and lots of long reviews! I like the flashbacks too. I've read a lot of deathfics, where TJ loses Spin or vice-versa, but they were all usually songfics or one-shots. I didn't want it to be like that, because you never get the real depth of their feelings. They write "oh well, they were in love, and now he/she's gone, and their sad and miserable", I wanted my readers to get the feeling that she was there and existed and I wanted everyone to see what a huge part of the gang's life she was. The dates are necessary, actually, because I want people to get an idea for what time in their relationship and time it is, not to mention that's the format I chose to write this story in. BUT THANKS!
I play write field...ENJOY!
Chapter 7: Way Out Where the Wild Flowers Grow
Coffee. Black. Thick. Strong. A muffin. Blueberry. No...banana nut. I slumped in the booth at the café, glanced at my watch. He was late. Vince was late. He was always late. There was a jingle, at the door, announcing a costumer's entrance. I glanced to it, noted it wasn't Vince, and looked back to my pastry. Looked to my watch again. He was late. I hate when he's late. It reminds me that he has a life, and that I don't; and in an odd way, that my wife died, and with her, I died.
"Would you like a refill, sir?" the waitress asked, a flirtatious smile neatly in place. They got better tips when they flirted with the male customers. I knew, so I didn't take it personal. I could have humored her, played along, maybe told a joke and grinned boyishly. She'd have laughed, though whether it was because she actually thought it was funny, or if she just wanted a better tip, I'd never know. I didn't, humor her, that is.
"No," I simply muttered, frowning at the table and tapping it slightly to the beat of a song I once knew but couldn't remember anymore. I glanced my watch and sighed, "Damn."
"Are you waiting for someone?" a woman asked in the booth over. She'd turned around, was smiling at me. Her friend, sitting on the other side was giggling, blushing, and glancing up at me through her eyelashes when she thought I wasn't noticing.
"Yeah," I said, not wanting a conversation with them, but knowing that it was exactly what this woman intended to start.
"A date?"
"Not exactly..." I looked to the door again. This was one of the reasons I hated Vince being late. People liked to talk to me. Before, when I was younger, I liked talking to people, and I didn't mind it. But now, things have changed. I'm a little introverted. I don't want to meet new people, I want to focus all my time on the people I already know and already like before I possibly lose them too.
"A blind date? Were you stood up?" the woman pressed on. I picked at my muffin, watched crumbs fall to the plate.
"No, and not that I know of," I mumbled, wanting more than anything to end the conversation, but knowing I wouldn't. I was polite like that. Screaming obscene words in my head at people I didn't like while a smile was plastered to my face. I wished I were rude at that moment. Spinelli would have been rude, without hesitation. She would have already told those women to shove off. She'd have given them the finger, her answer to the world, and I'd have apologized for her behavior, then whispered 'I love you, and everything you say and do, don't ever change' in her ear behind their backs. She let me be fake. She believed that people like me needed the world censored, we needed to believe that there was some good in the world. But not her world, of course. She said I liked everything black and white, good and bad, but she was all about the shades of gray with a 'fuck you' attached.
"You could join us," she suggested, leaning forward, letting her bleach blonde locks fall in her face. She hunched her shoulders, letting her low-cut shirt fall, pushing her breast together so that they puckered out. She was smiling, an offering. She looked like the type of woman who didn't get rejected. Her sexuality exuded confidence that most men found addictive. Her friend was blushing. She was probably the one that really wanted me to join their table. It made me think of Spinelli. She would never wear clothes like that, revealing. Her body was for my eyes only. Women, like this woman in front of me, felt that her body was a gift to the world and should constantly be on public display. I didn't like that. I felt it was disrespectful to themselves. They were starving for attention and using their body as an excuse to get it. I looked to my watch again.
"No, thank you," I mumbled, twisting my wedding ring on my finger, a nervous habit I'd picked up those three years ago. It reminded me that I was happy once, that I had been interested in a young woman once, that I had been capable of love once. The door opened again, but I didn't bother looking. If it was him, he'd join me; if it wasn't, I didn't want to get my hopes up. Besides, the woman was still interested in talking.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be forward..." she giggled, "You just look so lonely."
"Teej," turning to look at Vince, I was struck with several urges. I nearly jumped for joy. I nearly burst into tears. I nearly fell from my seat. Hell, I nearly punched his lights. I indulged none of them.
"You're late," I spat. He patted my shoulder, nodded to the bottle-blonde who simply turned back to her friend with a light indignant snort, took the seat across from me and stole my muffin. He was wearing his team jacket, a baseball cap atop his head, and sunglasses. He wasn't as well known as Mikey, but sometimes he was recognized by a group of testosterone pumping men and surrounded, and he didn't like to risk that. Especially when he was meeting with one of the gang. He was nice enough to think of us, not wanting to pull us into that bright celebrity light.
"I had to run laps at practice," he explained, taking a bite of my spongy pastry, "I keep fouling up."
"Aim, Vince, don't throw," I reminded him, staring at my coffee before he took that as well.
"You know, you should coach me, Teej. I've thrown my best games playing with you in my corner," he chuckled, but I didn't join him. He didn't notice. They didn't notice when I failed to smile or laugh these days. I could never figure out if that was good or bad, if I wanted them to notice or not. "I heard you went to Chez Vince, that where you took your..." he stopped himself. Date. They avoided that word like the plague, not wanting to bring up that night simply because it brought an immediate reminder of the next day and the fight we'd all had. The, let's-gang-up-on-TJ, fight.
"Yeah," I folded my napkin, the one thing Vince hadn't taken, "You still have those pictures up...of her..."
"Why would I have them taken down?" Vince asked, uncomfortably. I almost blurted out 'because she's dead', but I caught myself. Did my bitterness know no bounds? It made sense. Why would he have them taken down?
"How'd you know we went there?"
"Spence told me," Vince said, suddenly losing the appetite that had possessed him to steal my muffin, pushing the plate away, "He told me you sat in the table...where the picture hangs...of..."
"Our anniversary," I finished for him quietly. He was taking too long. They always putter around the issue. They seem to think if they mention her name or anything having to do with her, that I'll break down in front of them, shatter heartbroken across the table. Either that, or they think they will.
"Yeah, she looked beautiful that night."
"She always looked beautiful." I began tearing the napkin. I liked the sound it made, and the power I felt I had over that napkin, ripping it to shreds. It was the last anniversary we'd had together. It had been a good night. We'd danced, talked with the gang, laughed, Mikey had sung for us. The rest of the guests at the restaurant that day were treated with complimentary drinks. When we got home, I carried her to bed and we'd made love. It was after that, which was my favorite part of the evening. We lay in bed, together, talking. We had talked about our love, our life together up to that point, the future of our life together. We'd discussed our families, our friends, and our jobs; how we hated the long hours we spent away from one another. She'd took up the impossible venture that night of kissing every one of my freckles. I made her stop. It had tickled. It was funny, how I still remembered even those little things. It was a curse, really.
"Remember when that woman saw Spin's wedding ring that night, and made that comment...about how it was small and asked where the stone was. You know, the woman with the huge diamond ring on her finger...what was it that Spinelli told her...I can't remember..."
"She said...she said... 'You must be jealous...huh, because my husband didn't have to buy my love'," I quoted exactly. Vince smirked.
"I was surprised she didn't pop the old hag..." he snickered. We were silent. Vince quietly sipping my coffee, me, slowly tearing my napkin to tiny shreds.
"My sister's getting married," I finally said.
"Becky? To who? Or more precisely, to what classification of slime?"
"He's a nice guy, actually," I shifted, "He really likes her, not just that she puts out. I'm going to the wedding."
"What? Are you kidding me? After the hell your sister put you and Spin through..."
"I know, I know...but I've already decided." I looked to the pile of napkin shreds in front of me, frowning at them. "She's my sister, Vince."
"It's funny that she didn't remember that when you needed her to." He shook his head after a moment, leaning back in the booth with an exaggerated sigh, "Whatever, man. If that's what you want to put yourself through, then go ahead." Silence, again. "I saw Gretchen the other night. She was on a date with some cheese ball."
"Oh?" I tried sounding interested. I wasn't. Gretchen went on a lot of dates, all with "cheese balls" according to Vince.
"What does she see in those guys?"
"A prospective chance of a future? Maybe a possible good time, followed by another good time, which may eventually lead to marriage, family, and eternal bliss," I told him. He scowled at me. "You go on dates too, so does Mikey, so does Gus. I don't hear you complaining about them."
"Well...I...it's just that..." I knew why he didn't like the guys Gretchen dated, but I wanted him to say it. "I know how men can be, and she's my friend. I don't want her to get hurt. Don't you feel the same way?" Of course, he would never say it.
"Yeah...sure..."
-0-0-0-0--------------February 1999------------------0-0-0-0-
Red hearts, pink signs, and naked babies with wings and bows and arrows covered the walls of the high school, marking the coming of Valentine's Day. Students moved through the hallways, laughing, joking. There seemed a breakout of couples that month; everyone had a significant other by their side. They were holding hands, cuddling, breaking every Public Display of Affection rule in the schoolbook.
"It looks like Cupid threw up in here," Spinelli commented, shuffling through her locker. TJ leaned against the cool metal, grinning at her.
"You say such pleasant things," he teased. She stuck her tongue at him, found the text book she needed, slammed her locker shut and pushed her way down the hall, shoving couples apart while she was at it. TJ followed, muttering 'excuse us' to everyone he passed, trying to catch up with the pugnacious young woman he would like to eagerly claim as his. They'd been going on dates for the past four months, but he still wasn't sure what to call her. She never introduced him as anything other then 'my friend', and he followed suit, not wanting to rush her out of their relationship purgatory for fear it would land them back as 'just friends'.
They stopped. Spinelli first, then TJ. He wanted to put his arm around her then, but thought better of it. On their dates, he'd take her hand, steal kisses when he could, wrap his arm about her shoulders, and pull her close. But at school, she claimed to have her reasons, but she wanted to keep that "dating stuff" separate.
"Hey guys," Spinelli greeted as Gretchen and Mikey made their ways over. Gretchen was putting more time into herself those days, waking up early enough to do her hair and make-up. She found it fascinating, these "rituals" as she called them, which girls put themselves through. She said it's like an archaic passage into womanhood. She attempted to get Spinelli to practice the same morning "rituals", but Spinelli would only scoff and walk away as though insulted at the idea.
"Various shades of beauty, walk along the deserted halls, a light upon the tiles, and her unique smile, that falls across her delicate skin and..." Mikey was mumbling, and TJ and Spinelli shot Gretchen a questioning look.
"He's got a crush," she explained, "He's writing her a poem, to ask her to the Valentine's Day dance."
"On who?" Spinelli demanded, "Not that Amanda Bucktooth girl?"
"Amanda Barkley," Gretchen corrected, choosing to ignore the blatant insult of one of her close friends outside of the gang, "And no, not anymore. He won't say who it is. All he said was we'll know when they get to the dance."
"Great," TJ muttered, "At least he's confident."
"Me, on the other hand, am still waiting for an invitation of accompaniment to the dance..." Gretchen seemed to find someone in the crowd, her eyes staring off in the distance. The other's glanced in the same direction, but found no one in particular that could hold any girl's gaze like that in their opinion. "Tickets come on sale soon. You guys want to come with me when I go to buy mine?"
"Nope," Spinelli spoke up first, and TJ eyed her curiously, "I'm not going. I hate the dances at this school. They're so lame. I have to get to class. Bye guys." A stunned silence followed her as she shoved her way down the hall. Gretchen looked to TJ.
"I figured you two would be going to the dance together," she stated, blinkingly.
"So did I," TJ admitted, a little flustered.
"Does she know that?" Mikey asked.
"We hadn't talked about going to the dance..." TJ shrugged, shifting his backpack, "Oh well."
"Are you still going?" Mikey questioned.
"Maybe...yeah, I don't see why not," TJ waved, making his way casually down the hallway towards his own class.
"That was odd," Gretchen commented, glancing at her watch, "There's still time before the bell rings. Let's go look for Vince."
"Sounds good to me. I think I saw him heading down the four hundreds hall," Mikey fell into step behind Gretchen, continuing mumbling different nonsensical sentences beneath his breath.
-0-0-
Vince tapped his fingers on his desk, perking up only when his friend waltzed through the door. TJ frowned at Vince, made his way to his desk.
"What are you doing here so early?" TJ demanded, taking the seat in front of Vince.
"I needed to talk to you...what are you doing here so early? Shouldn't you and Spin be acting all lovey-dovey somewhere." TJ shook his head at his friend, turning to open his book and shuffling through his bag for his homework.
"I got a little creative with spelling, do you think Miss Baulker will mind?" TJ asked, frowning at his writing and fighting the urge to get angry at the comment Vince had made.
"She's the English teacher, TJ, I think she might" Vince muttered, "Use a dictionary. Gretchen's good." TJ grinned.
"I was on the phone with Spin all night, I didn't have time to call Gretch. I could have used the help on my Physics paper though..."
"I don't get it," Vince leaned forward as more students flooded into the class, dropping his voice, "You and Spin are inseparable outside of school...but when you hit campus..."
"Hey don't ask me about that, it's her decision," TJ mumbled, trying to make a few last minute grammar changes on his paper.
"And you don't mind?"
"Are you kidding me?" TJ had to fight to control his voice from reaching an exasperated screech, "It's like I'm a kid and she gave me a small lick of ice cream and then said after that I'm not allowed to have anymore, but she keeps waving the melting cone in front of my face."
"Interesting analogy..." Vince had the look of a boy with dirty thoughts floating through his mind. TJ scowled at him.
"What the hell, Vince?"
"Sorry...what's her deal?"
"I don't know...but it's getting harder man...I mean, hell, is it wrong that I feel ashamed for having wanted to put my arm around my girlfriend in the hallway this morning?" TJ shook his head; "You said you wanted to talk to me about something?" He was desperate to change the topic. He was starting to get riled up, his voice getting high-pitched, and they were receiving dodgy glances from around the classroom.
"The dance..." Vince started and TJ groaned.
"What? Don't tell me you need my help getting a cheerleader to go with you. Alright, let's see...I've got a plan in my head, but I don't think Gus will be willing to dress up as a goril..."
"Teej, can I talk?"
"Sure, whatever."
"I'm thinking of asking...don't laugh alright..."
"Totally serious. This is my serious face," TJ grinned. Vince frowned.
"Changed my mind. I'll talk to Mikey about it."
"Mikey? Tell me, Vince. Come on, I won't laugh," TJ nearly jumped from his seat, shifting, pleading with his friend, "Come on, please. No more joking."
"Alright. I was thinking of asking Gretchen." TJ's pencil dropped to the floor, his brows drawing together in an effort to figure out exactly what Vince meant by that statement.
"As friends? Because Vince, if you're giving up on dating so early in the game..."
"I'm serious, Teej. I'm thinking of asking Gretchen to be my Valentine." TJ swallowed hard, leaning forward, his hand groping the ground in search of his pencil. He was trying to maintain composure. Laughing would hurt his friend's feelings. When TJ had told Vince and the rest of the gang his feelings for Spinelli, and to be honest, he hadn't held back long, there had been no shock, no long drawn out surprise. In fact, they'd nodded and said "well it took you long enough to figure it out" and "What did I tell you guys? Inevitable!" and "You owe me ten bucks", that last one had been Mikey to Gus. But Vince's startling news was shocking to TJ. He hadn't seen it coming. He doubted the rest of the gang had either.
"Uh...that's great, man," TJ mumbled, finding his pencil and heading back to his homework.
"I shouldn't have told you. I should have told Mikey. He's better at this stuff...or even Gus...or even Spinelli," Vince shook his head, gritting his teeth, staring at his desk.
"I'm sorry, Vince," TJ sighed, turning back around, "I'm just a little stunned is all. Gretchen and you...I mean...you've been into a lot of girls, and none of them were anything like Gretchen."
"Maybe that's why eventually I realized I didn't like any of them," Vince sneered, "Jeez, Teej...I can't know that something's right like you did about Spinelli. Sorry, but not everyone can be the golden...what would you call yourselves, because the way you act sure as hell is not like a couple?"
"Jeez, Vince, why you acting like such a prick?"
"Sorry. I just didn't realize even my best friend would think I'm not good enough for Gretch," Vince spat.
"That's not what I said! You're reading too much into my reaction!" TJ shook his head; the teacher was walking into the class shooting them both dangerous looks. They fell silent, looking obediently to the front of the room much like the rest of the students did. They sat in silence the rest of the period, and when the bell rang TJ had to practically chase Vince down.
"What?" Vince demanded, stopping at his locker.
"I'm sorry, alright," TJ whispered, "I never said you weren't good enough for Gretchen, and it's not what I meant. I am really sorry. It's just...odd is all...I mean, if you and Gretchen got together, it would be pretty cool..." Vince smirked.
"I'm sorry, too, Teej. What I said, I shouldn't have." Vince slid one of his books into the locker, closed it and leaned back, "I'm finally starting to realize what it's like, what it was like for you. How'd you deal with it, realizing how you felt about someone you knew your whole damn life?"
"Just that I knew her my whole damn life made it easier," TJ shrugged, "Of course, a lot of good that's doing me now. I can't even hold her hand in public..."
"Um...TJ...excuse me..." TJ turned, Vince eyeing the short young woman smugly. She was a girl they both knew. A journalist, wrote for the school paper, and popular. She had her brown hair pulled into a long braid down her back with little pink berates on both sides of her head. She had on a pink sweater over a white shirt decorated with little red hearts; the collar was tucked out over the edge of the sweater neckline. She always dressed for the season.
"Hey, Gloria," TJ greeted. They didn't talk often, she was a little on the shy, overly ambitious side. She studied too much and took her reporter duties a little too seriously. A combo that didn't work well with TJ.
"I was wondering if...maybe you hadn't...um...asked a girl to the dance this Friday...I don't know...maybe you'd go with me?" TJ felt his stomach sink. He felt Vince's eyes burning into him. He shrugged, thinking it through. She seemed nice enough, and Spinelli had clearly stated she didn't want to go. He had wanted to go, he'd really wanted to go with Spinelli, but...
"Yeah, sure," TJ finally decided.
"Really?" she cried, then, clearing her throat, blushing slightly, "I Uh...I'll give you my number. Here, I've got a pen somewhere...let me see your hand." TJ waited as she wrote the numbers down then skipped off, constantly glancing back at him with a gleeful smile.
"What are you doing?" Vince demanded, "Aren't you going with Spinelli?"
"No, she made it clear she didn't want to go to the dance. But I want to, and a couple ticket is a better deal then a single," TJ made his way down the hall.
"Yeah, well, how's Spinelli going to take this?" Vince asked, falling into step beside his friend. TJ frowned. "I don't believe you. I never thought you'd sink that low. You're doing this to make her jealous."
"I am not," TJ muttered, though the lump in his stomach suggested otherwise, "I just think it would be better if I went with someone. It's not like I asked the girl, she asked me. And you know...I couldn't lie and say I had a date, and it's not like I could tell her I didn't want to go with her."
"You could have told her you have a girlfriend," Vince said.
"You don't think she knows?" TJ glanced over his shoulder at Gloria's form, hopping excitedly with her friends.
"I don't think anyone but the rest of the gang and that teacher know," Vince chuckled, "When Spinelli finds out..."
"Oh man..." TJ glanced over his shoulder, "She'll be fine with it." He looked to the tile, "I hope."
"Spinelli's gonna beat the crap out of you," Vince snickered.
"Very supportive, best friend," TJ drawled in sarcasm.
"Yeah...so, are you going to help me with Gretchen?" Vince pouted his lip out, his eyes pleading, "Please, Teej, please..."
"Don't make that face," TJ groaned, "You look pathetic. I'll do what I can, but I don't know...I'm not asking her for you, if that's what you want. After the Marina McAllister incident..." Vince scowled. That was a painful memory. Sixth grade, Vince had a serious crush on a pretty seventh grader, one Marina McAllister. He asked TJ to go over and talk to her, as an envoy of sorts. The direct result was TJ and Marina were suddenly going steady and Vince wasn't talking to him, and refused to for somewhere around a week. It had been a bad experience for both boys, though TJ had gotten his first girlfriend, and more importantly, his first romantic kiss from the event. Of course, the situation had taught both boys a valuable lesson. TJ was a horrible liaison.
"No. I just...I want to make it romantic, when I ask her...I have a lot of plans, but none of them sound any good. And I thought my good buddy, infamous for his plan making abilities..." Vince trailed off leaving TJ to figure out the rest.
"Fine. I'll think of something," TJ sighed, as he broke off from Vince down a different hallway towards his class.
"Thanks, I owe you!" Vince called after him, "See you at lunch."
"Yeah, man," TJ mumbled, something not sitting right in his stomach. This kind of thing could ruin a perfectly good friendship if not handled correctly, TJ knew that.
-0-0-
TJ walked to the familiar wall of lockers after the final bell of the day tolled, releasing the students to sweet freedom. He stopped beside an open locker, not sure what to say or do.
"Hey, Spin," he greeted nervously. The locker door slammed shut and he jumped. She hadn't been at lunch, neither had Gretchen, which had him suspicious. Now, the suspicions were gone and all that was left was obvious confirmation of his worst fears. Spinelli was not happy with him. She stared at the closed locker, her jaw set firm, her eyes narrowed, her body held tense. She looked like she was considering something. Probably considering hitting him. TJ didn't like that prospect.
"I heard you were going to the dance with Gloria Thompson. I'm surprised it wasn't on the front page of the school paper," she finally said, and TJ noted the quaver in her voice. She was more than mad, she was more than furious; she was upset. This really had her bothered.
"Oh..." TJ mumbled, looking to his feet for support, "Um...she asked me...and after this morning..."
"I don't care," Spinelli spat, "Go with her if you want. I hope you have a nice time." She turned on her heel, leaving TJ behind a little wary at the idea of following her.
"I didn't want to go with her," TJ muttered to the tile, "I wanted to go with you."
"Spinelli was in the girls' bathroom." TJ didn't need to turn; he knew it was Gretchen, "Ever since she heard. We have Gloria in P.E." TJ shrunk against the lockers, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. "Gloria practically made an announcement over the P.A. system in her jubilation. She said that by Friday night you and her would be going steady. She sounded really confident, too...she was saying a lot of things. Like for instance, she's seen you looking at her in the hallway."
"That's not true," TJ protested.
"Yeah, I know," Gretchen slunk her arm over TJ's shoulders, "But Spinelli doesn't know that. You have no idea how self-conscious she is about this whole thing. She doesn't even know where she stands with you..."
"What? She's the one going around telling people were friends," TJ shook his head, "I'll call Gloria, tell her I can't...make up some lie. It's not worth losing Spin over..."
"You can't do that," Gretchen sputtered, "You'll crush the girl. It took a lot of guts for her to come up and ask you to take her to the dance. I know..."
"Whose side are you on, Gretchen? Spinelli's or Gloria's?"
"Look, all I'm saying is that you can't stand up Gloria, it wouldn't be right," Gretchen rolled her eyes, "Just talk things out with Spinelli."
"Why can't I just explain things to Gloria?"
"Because, Gloria doesn't like Spinelli as it is. How do you think she'll take the news that you, a guy she has a little more than a childish infatuation with, are choosing Spinelli over her?"
"What do you think Gloria will do, huh? Beat Spin up?" TJ nearly laughed at that notion.
"Girls are a tad bit more malicious than that, TJ. And need I remind you that Gloria is friends with the Ashleys?"
"Man...what'll I do?" Gretchen patted his shoulder as she left down the hallway.
-0-0-
Spinelli slumped on Gretchen's bed beside Mikey, who himself was sprawled out over the mattress.
"I could kill him, you know," she said in a harsh whisper, "I could ring his neck." She wiped at her cheeks absently. She'd been crying. She hated to cry. It hurt.
"Let me do your hair, Spin," Mikey said, with a hiccup. He'd had a little to drink. He was a bit red in the cheeks, and wore a sedate grin. Spinelli set her own drink down, a brown beer bottle. Gretchen was sitting in her wicker chair staring disdainfully at her own Pear wine cooler, half-empty. All the alcohol they had consumed that evening had been salvaged from the far back of the Spinelli fridge. Her house was the perfect choice for this type of social get together as her parents were rarely home. They trusted their darling honor roll; class Valedictorian, genius of a daughter.
"What for?" Spinelli demanded. He'd sat up and was running his fingers through her messy locks. He pulled out the elastic that held the strands together in a ponytail and they swished over her shoulders.
"I want to. Besides, I need the practice. I'm hair and make-up for the theatre production of Romeo and Juliet. An interesting choice, don't you think? The most beautiful and tragic of love stories, in honor of Valentine's Day," Mikey answered as he motioned for Gretchen to pass him the brush. He wasn't certain he could make it across the room. It wasn't that he was a heavy drinker, so much that he wasn't. Half a bottle of beer and he's wasted.
"Did you try out for the play this time?" Spinelli asked, letting him run the prongs of the brush through her hair and closing her eyes. It was calming really, like he was messaging her scalp. He was silent. She knew what that meant. "Mikey!" she snapped, "You have to try out next time. You're a damned better actor than any of those douches on stage. Besides, it's starting to scare me how good you're getting at doing a girl's hair and make-up."
"I don't know, Spin," Mikey mumbled, "I'm too clumsy. I forgot my lines that one time..."
"Are you talking about the Snow White production in kindergarten? You were five, Mikey," Spinelli muttered.
"I only had one line!"
"I should ask Walker to the dance," Gretchen finally gargled from her seat as she took another steady sip from her drink.
"Walker? Not Ralph Walker...are you kidding me? King of Zit-dom?" Spinelli cried, incredulously, "Now he should be going with little Miss Gloria Thompson. Where does that bitch get off anyways? And TJ...I don't care...I don't..."
"Spinelli, it's your own fault, you know," Mikey mused and Gretchen's brow perked. He was the only one who could get away with that type of speculation around Spinelli.
"How do you figure?" she growled.
"Well, if you wanted TJ to ask you to the dance, then you should have watched what you said," Mikey clucked, working on a particularly thick knot, "Don't you ever brush your hair?"
"I would, except it cuts into my sleep time," Spinelli mumbled distractedly, "What do you mean watched what I said? And I never wanted TJ to ask me to the dance...I just...well, why's he got to go with Gloria?"
"He's trying to make you jealous," Mikey concluded.
"He wanted to go with you to the dance, Spinelli," Gretchen agreed, "But after what you said this morning, about how you didn't want to go to the dance, and that the school dances are lame...you really need to start thinking before you speak."
"What? But I always say that kind of crud about the school dances...seriously, they're lame," Spinelli pouted, looking to the floor, "It doesn't matter if he goes on dates with other girls. It's not like I'm wearing his pin, or nothing..."
"You should go to the dance," Mikey commented, finishing with the knot and returning to smoothing out the dinks in Spinelli's rat's nest.
"Why? I don't care...he can do what he wants," Spinelli snarled, and then frowned at the plush white carpet. She took a gulp of her beer.
"Oh, but you do. He's doing this to make you jealous, and you're eating it all up," Mikey chuckled, "But you could always turn the tables on him. Go to the dance. Of course, you have to look drop dead gorgeous when you walk through the doors of that gym, kind of like Cinderella."
"Oh, Drew Barrymore style!" Gretchen threw in, "You'll show up like an angel and stun everyone in the room, and Gloria will...she'll..."
"Eat her heart out," Mikey suggested.
"Stew in her own juices," Gretchen laughed.
"You guys...I don't know..."
"What's there to know?" Mikey argued, "Gretchen and I can handle the clothing and make-up, you just need to get a date."
"'Cause they're lining up around my house," Spinelli said with biting cynicism.
"You could go with me," Mikey joked, then took Spinelli's beer and gulped it down, falling back on the bed, "Not like I have a date."
"That's what you get for trying to infiltrate the Ashley fortress," Gretchen sympathized.
"The last time...I swear...popular girls...they're all the same. I thought that maybe this time there was something more there but...not ever again..." he hiccupped. Spinelli laid her head on his belly.
"My poor, big, foolish, lummox," she cooed affectionately. He smiled slightly.
"Is that a yes?" Spinelli rolled her eyes, sitting up again. "Come on, Spinelli. Let me make you the bell of the ball. Please?" She sighed, her shoulders hunched, hair falling in her face.
"Fine. If only to see the look on that bitch's face." There was a sound in the driveway and Gretchen was on her feet at once, scanning out the window.
"My parents are home, ditch the booze!" In a rush, they had all the bottles in Gretchen's bathroom, hidden beneath the sink. Gretchen ran some toothpaste over her teeth and swished some mouthwash before throwing the tube and bottle to her friends and racing down the stairs.
"Hey mom," they heard her greeting while tending to the alcohol stench on their own breaths. "What are you doing home so early?"
"Just picking up some papers. Have you done your homework?"
"Yup. All my homework is done for the remainder of the week." There was a loud thump as Mikey stumbled to the floor.
"Is someone upstairs..."
"Yeah, Mikey and Spinelli are over. We were working on a project, for school."
"Okay...um...here are my papers. I'll see you later. I love you." The front door opened, and shut. And Gretchen was back upstairs, her face splotchy red and white.
"What in the four hemispheres are you two doing up here?" Gretchen stammered. Mikey was on the floor rolling with laughter, Spinelli having tripped on top of him in her attempt to help him up, was laughing too. Gretchen put her hands on her hips, letting a smile crease her lips. "No more drinking for the night, alright? You two are drunk."
"We're drunk?" Spinelli sputtered, sitting up and attempting to look serious and offended, "I am not drunk." And then burst into giggles again.
-0-0-
Vince tapped the counter slightly, frowning at the salesclerk ringing up his order. There was a brown bag between them. Vince mentally ran through the checklist in his mind. Roses, he could only afford three. Box of chocolates...does Gretchen like chocolates, he wondered. Milk and eggs, for his mother. He'd thought of getting the stuffed bear, but decided against it. He didn't want to appear too cheesy. And a card, he'd spent nearly two hours standing at the card aisle, reading each and every paper cut out. From lyrical poetry, to cartoon laughter, to childish drawings of honeybees imprinted on the inside with the words "Bee Mine". They were all so lame. TJ was right to hate Valentine's Day so much. The only good thing was the candy you might possibly receive.
Buy her something nice. That's what TJ had said. You'll want to have something to give her when you ask her to the dance. That was TJ's explanation. Like in all those romance movies. The dance was two days away. Vince wanted to ask her at school, TJ suggested not to, but it was one of those things Vince was stuck on.
"Will that be all?" the clerk asked.
"Yeah," Vince mumbled.
"Did you find everything okay?"
"I've lived here my whole life, Doug, I have the whole store memorized by heart."
"I have to ask the question, Vince. Why do you kids always give me a hard time about it?"
"Kids, you're only three years older than me," Vince argued. The clerk shook his head, pushing the bag over.
"This all for your girlfriend?" he asked.
"No," Vince muttered, taking the bag, "I'll see you later."
"Yeah, man. Tear up that basketball court, will 'ya? I got money riding on next week's game," the clerk called after him. Vince shook his head, stepping outside and drawing his jacket tighter about him. He slowed down when he passed Kelso's, noticing TJ and Gus sitting at the bar. TJ was sulking, that was obvious, and Gus was on break, his Kelso's apron slung over his shoulder. Vince shifted the bag in his arms, considering joining them for a moment. Kelso could put his bag in the fridge in the back, to keep the milk and eggs cool. He shook his head. His mom was waiting for him. He tapped the front window and both boys inside stirred. He waved to them, they waved back, and he broke into a light jog down the road.
Gretchen was outside, taking out the garbage. There was a dampness hanging in the air. It was going to rain. Vince paused. She wasn't wearing any make-up, which was rare these days. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and she was wearing sweats. He smiled. Vince had surpassed her in height sometime before, but they were still fairly similar in size. She hadn't really developed much of a body like Spinelli had, though both girls were still on the thin side. She had her glasses on, another rare event as she had taken to wearing contacts. Vince still liked how she looked in the glasses. She disappeared back in her house, and Vince sighed, glancing inside his grocery bag. If she turned him down he wasn't sure how he'd take it.
Vince made his way into his house. Setting the brown bag on the counter in the kitchen and emptying its contents. He thought of calling his brother, Chad, who was away at University. They talked as often as possible. Still remaining as close as ever. Chad would have suggestions on what to do with Gretchen. He could tell Vince what to talk with her about, all the nerd stuff. Vince sighed, placing the milk and eggs, as well as the roses and chocolates in the refrigerator and racing upstairs with his things. He needed to fill out the card he'd gotten and think things through. He'd call TJ later, hope that the line wasn't busy. Nighttime was usually when TJ talked with Spinelli on the phone, and it was understood that they wanted to keep the lines free in case one or the other decided to call early.
After what happened at school, though, Vince was certain TJ and Spinelli would not be having their talk that night.
-0-0-
TJ tapped his foot on the sidewalk, eyeing Gretchen making her way up the walk. He turned in to glance Vince, standing by her locker, fiddling with the combination lock. TJ did not want to be a part of this. He wasn't in the mood to be helping set up his friends with one another when his relationship was on such a rocky landslide. He'd tried calling Spinelli several times the night before. He finally gave up when Bob Spinelli picked up the phone and yelled at him for calling so late, saying Spinelli was already asleep and he'd have to talk to her in the morning. So TJ had waited that morning for her to come to their corner, where they always met to walk to school together. She never showed up. He went to her house and Flo kindly told him that Spinelli had asked her father for a ride.
"Hello, TJ." He nearly jumped out of his skin, shocked from his reflections. He looked to Gretchen with a forced smile.
"Hey, Gretch..." There was something different about her. She was smiling, a huge, overjoyed, goofy grin. "What are you so happy about?"
"Well...I took a leaf from Gloria's book and asked Walker to the dance," she explained, her smile widening, which TJ hadn't thought was possible, "He said he'd wanted to ask me out but couldn't get the guts...I feel so random! Like a real girl of the nineties! Taking charge and what not..." TJ felt his stomach sink. She went to the door at the front of the school and he practically leapt in her way.
"Maybe you should go around the other way...I heard there was an accident...a...uh...some kid got sick and...I suggest you go around back," TJ stuttered, searching through his various excuses and lies stored in his mind for just-in-case emergencies like this one.
"I have to go to my locker, TJ," Gretchen protested, with a frown, "Besides, there are kids in there. Are you sure someone vomited? Even so, I'm sure the janitorial staff would have been informed, and there doesn't appear to be anyone...and there's Vince. He said he had to ask me something this morning, as it is. I assume he had trouble with his homework again. Can you imagine? If Walker and I start going steady...well...you guys will all have to meet him, and he's so smart. I won't be the only one you guys have to go to for help..."
"That's great, Gretch..." TJ muttered, watching helplessly as she skipped into the hallway. There had to be something he could do, some way to get the message to Vince.
"Hi Gretchen," Vince smiled, pleasantly. She nodded to him, turning to her locker. He shifted slightly, sheepishly, "Can we talk?"
"About?"
"The dance..." Gretchen's eyes lit up immediately, she turned to Vince with her smile.
"Guess who's got a date to the dance," she exclaimed. Vince frowned.
"Well, I was hoping that I would have a date to the dance when this conversation was over," Vince mumbled. The smile on Gretchen's face diminished.
"Oh...Vince," she looked back to her locker, working on the lock. Vince saw TJ at the end of the hallway, waving his arms, shaking his head. This was not going according to plan.
"Well, I just thought if you had no one to go with..." Vince kept going, glancing at TJ once more, confused.
"Walker is taking me to the dance," she mumbled, "I'm sorry. But, I mean, why are you asking me? There are plenty of girls more than willing to go with you." Vince looked to his feet, wanting her to not open that locker, feeling foolish, and more specifically, heartbroken.
"I don't know...um...I just thought it would be a lot more fun if I went with a friend this year," he stammered. It was the best excuse he could come up with. The locker opened, his heart stopped.
"Roses...?" Gretchen stared at the little gifts neatly stacked in her locker, "Chocolates...?" She smiled, closed her eyes, "Walker...he's so sweet." Vince flushed, reaching over to the locker door and peeling off the card before she saw that as well.
"Wow, he's a great guy," he mumbled, stuffing the incriminating paper in his pocket.
"Yes. No one's ever given me flowers before..." she said, lifting one of the roses to her nose, her cheeks bright red, "I really like him, Vince. I've never felt so giddy, before." She turned, lowering her eyes, "I'm sorry." Her eyes went wide, and she gently touched his shoulder, "You could ask Spinelli! She needs someone to take her to the dance..."
"Spinelli? I thought she didn't want to go to the dance?"
"Uh...she didn't. I just thought it would be great if we all went this year," Gretchen lied. If she told Vince, there was no doubt TJ would find out, "Never mind."
"I'll find someone...don't worry," Vince muttered, brushing by her, "I'll see you later, Gretch."
"Sure. No hard feelings, right?"
"Yeah, of course," Vince turned slightly, smiling, "I just thought...as friends...but hey, you have a date. Good luck with him."
"Thanks." She returned to her locker, obscuring the books she needed, and taking one of the roses with her down the hall. Vince slumped next to TJ.
"I tried to warn you..." TJ mumbled.
"Valentine's Day sucks," Vince groaned. TJ glanced down the hall eyeing Spinelli. She was talking with some guy who was grinning oddly at her. Trying to flirt, no doubt, probably asking her to the dance. He slammed the back of his head against the wall.
"Yup..."
-0-0-
The dances always took place in the school gym, which constantly reeked of rubber and sweat. The dance committee had a way of trying to do too much with their tiny budget, which left everything looking half done, mix themed, and hastily put together. There were balloons to one side of the gym, red and pink, and white and gold ones to the other side. A giant pink papier-mâché heart hung from the ceiling, but it was misshapen. The top wasn't exactly complete and the paint was uneven. On half of it one could still make out the newsprint beneath. There were little cut out hearts, and cupids scattered along the floor, and punch tables. All the punch was pink and red, but it was also probably spiked already. They had tried to put a giant cupid in the middle of the floor, but it hadn't been finished on time and they ran out of money. It was stored with the other dance décor screw-ups. The sound system in the gym sucked, and no one could ever make out the lyrics of whatever song was being played, but the echo of the large room usually made the music unrecognizable anyways.
It looks like cupid threw up in here. TJ smirked, and thought of repeating Spinelli's snide comment to Gloria. Of course, then he remembered she was on the dance committee and held his tongue. She was wearing a pink dress, sleek and spaghetti strapped. It hugged tightly to her body. Silver glimmer shined her eyes; she was wearing bright pink lip-gloss, and light blush flushed her pale cheeks. She wasn't bad to look at; she just wasn't who he'd like to be looking at.
"There are some of my friends," Gloria exclaimed, taking TJ's hand and dragging him through the crowd. It didn't fit. Her hand. It didn't feel right in his hand. He sighted Gretchen with her date. They were smiling, laughing. Vince was standing across the room with his date, a pretty young woman, a popular girl. He was glowering in Gretchen's direction while his date talked with her friends, ignoring him all together.
"Hey Gloria," a short blonde woman, Megan exclaimed. She flushed when TJ nodded to her, "Hi..." she murmured. He recognized the other girls as well. Susie, Marne, and Claire.
"He's so cute," he heard Susie whisper quietly to Gloria, "Has he asked yet?"
"No, shush..." she whispered, "TJ, you know my friends."
"Yeah," he muttered distractedly. He saw Gus coming in through the doors with his date, a short young girl with frizzy brown hair wearing a wool dress with a white collar and puffy sleeves. The skirt came down to her ankles, and was plaid color. She had thick glasses to rival Gus's, and wasn't extremely attractive. She was kind of cute, TJ decided. She was the daughter of one of Gus's father's friends, and Gus was sort of obligated to take her to the dance.
"Where's your date, Megan?" Gloria asked.
"Oh...he called, said his grandmother was sick. He had to go sit with her...isn't that sweet?" TJ rolled his eyes. He saw Mikey come in, make his way over to Gretchen and whisper something in her ear. He pointed to the doorway and TJ followed the movement.
It was almost a movie moment, the light cascading around her silhouette. Like an angel, she was dressed in white, a sleek sleeveless lace dress with a layer of uneven skirt, coming just above her knees. There was lace detached from the dress crawling down her arms. She looked lost, jaded, afraid. Black hair falling in messy jelled stings about her face. Her black boots were gone, replaced with soft flat shoes. A few people noticed her at first, and then the room was silent, still, watching her for a moment. She'd always held the potential to stop traffic.
"Spinelli...?" TJ murmured in confusion. There was no possible way that the girl he'd known since childhood would dress that way.
"What is she doing here?" he faintly heard one of Gloria's friends demand, "She looks ridiculous. I thought the little wallflower never went to dances, like she's making a statement or something...does she even have a date?" And as if on cue, the young man TJ had seen her talking to in the hallway came up behind her, placing his arm on her shoulder and leading her away. Things resumed as normal in the gym, dancing, and laughter. But the students' eyes followed the ugly duckling with silent nods of approval from the boys and snarls of aghast from the girls.
"I'd like to see her dance," another one of Gloria's friends chuckled, "That would be pure comedy there..."
"Why's she wearing white, like she's pure or something..." that was probably Susie. TJ saw Mikey and Gretchen walking by, catching a snip of their conversation.
"You have outdone yourself, Mikey," Gretchen was saying.
"It's easy when your subject is already so beautiful," he paused, looking Gretchen over, "Speaking of beautiful potential subjects..." TJ frowned. What were they up to?
"I'm going to the restroom, real quick," Gloria whispered to TJ, shaking him back to his date, "I'll be right back." TJ nodded, watching her and a few of her friends depart. The remaining friends went into conversation, glancing at him every so often with flushed cheeks and giggling softly. He frowned, waited a moment before locating Spinelli sitting on the bleachers, her date nowhere in sight. He slipped through the crowd in her direction, making his way onto the bleachers behind her, he hoped, unnoticed. She hunched her shoulders slightly, folding her arms in her lap.
"Where's your date?" she asked, not bothering to turn.
"Do you have a sixth sense...or can you just smell me coming or something?" TJ demanded, settling into the seat next to her. She looked to the floor, to those petit shoes on her feet. She felt uncomfortable in them, in her whole outfit. "Where's your date?" She didn't answer, looking up to the ceiling. So TJ went with a different approach. "Can I let you in on a secret?"
"What?"
"My date...she's not the one I wanted to come to this dance with."
"Oh?" Spinelli whispered, rearranging her skirt, "And who did you want to come with?"
"Spinelli," TJ sighed, turning to face her, "We need to talk." She looked at him, her jaw locked, her eyes wide, scared.
"Then talk."
"We have been dating for four months, it's time we lay down some ground rules," TJ said, taking a deep breath.
"Ground rules?" she raised an eyebrow at him.
"Yeah. Ground rules." He grinned at her somewhat.
"Like what?"
"Like, from now on, you're my girlfriend, I'm your boyfriend," he said, "And, that is how we will be introduced. Got that?"
"Teej..."
"Laying out ground rules here, babe," TJ interjected, needless to say, he was getting into it, "And in the future, for dances, it will automatically be assumed that I will be asking you to go. If you don't want to go, then it will already be decided, that on those nights, we'll be going out somewhere together. That way, this..." TJ didn't have to explain what 'this' meant, "Will never happen again. Because I'll already have plans for that night, I won't be pushed in a corner when a girl asks me to the dance like Gloria did."
"We need to teach you how to say 'no', Teej," Spinelli mumbled, "Anything else?"
"Yeah," another deep breath, "I'm going to walk you to each of your classes, I'm going to be carrying your books, and if I want to hold your hand in the hallway, I'm gonna hold your hand."
"I'm perfectly capable of..."
"I know what you're capable of...painfully aware...but these are girlfriend, boyfriend things that I want to do with you. And that's what we are, Spin, boyfriend," he pointed to himself, "Girlfriend," took her hands, "And kissing. A hello and good-bye kiss is expected. And any other kisses we feel are necessary in-between."
"What about PDA rules?"
"The way I see it..." TJ smirked at her cheekily, "It's only a crime, if you get caught."
"Oh..." she smiled, entwining her hand within his.
"Um...TJ..." they turned to look at Gloria, standing before them. She was scowling at Spinelli, her arms crossed over her chest.
"I was wondering...did you want to dance...I mean, it's a dance...and...I am your date," that last bit was directed bitingly towards Spinelli.
"Well...actually, I was hoping maybe..." TJ shrugged, slipping an arm over Spinelli's shoulders, "I could have a dance with my girlfriend?"
"Girlfriend?" Gloria pouted, "You're here with me, TJ." He stood up, coming close enough to speak in a quieted voice.
"I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have come with you to this dance," he whispered, glancing to Spinelli who stared blushingly at her hands lying in her lap. "I used you, Gloria, and I'm really sorry." She shook her head, storming off. She paused in front of Spinelli, glowering down her nose.
"Bitch," she muttered, before maneuvering through the crowd with tear filled eyes. Spinelli followed her with a glare, her hand tightening into a fist.
"Spin," TJ mumbled, sitting next to her again. She turned to face him and he brushed his lips against hers. She sat, a bit stunned for a moment, as she always did after they kissed, blush creeping across her cheeks. Her eyes snapped open, and she narrowed her eyes at him.
"If you think you're setting all the ground rules, Teej, you're wrong...I'm going to be setting a few of my own..."
"But yours are never fun," TJ argued, taking her hand and dragging her to the dance floor. He took her in his arms, receiving odd looks from those around them, "Spin, you look..."
"Blame it on Mikey," she interrupted, "Because if I had any say in this...I wouldn't look like...such an idiot."
"You don't look like an idiot, Spinelli," TJ reassured her, resting his chin on her shoulder, "You're doing a good job making me look like an idiot. I'd say let's never fight again..."
"But fighting is inevitable in our case..." she finished for him and he brushed his lips against her neck.
"And you're so beautiful when you're mad," he mumbled. Spinelli sighed, seeing Vince.
"Poor guy," she whispered.
"Huh?"
"I heard that he tried to ask Gretchen to the dance," Spinelli said, sinking deeper into TJ's hold.
"Yeah."
"Those roses were from him, weren't they?"
"The chocolates too...how'd you know?"
"Mikey figured it out," she explained, pulling forward to look into TJ's eyes, "I don't like Walker. He's a dork. He tutored me in history...jeez, if anyone can make you feel like an idiot..."
"I could have tutored you in history," TJ said, a little hurt that she hadn't come to him.
"TJ, your grade's worse than mine. I should tutor you in history." He smirked.
"I like that idea." Which received him a sharp jab to the ribs. "Ow."
"Keep your mind out of the gutter, boyfriend," she snarled, "I've got brothers, and I'm not afraid to use them." TJ caught her behind the neck, pulling her into a kiss.
"I guess this makes you my first Valentine," he murmured against her lips.
"Uh...huh..." She laid her head on his shoulder.
"Hey, what happened to your date?"
"I told him to beat it," Spinelli shrugged.
"You knew this would happen...you knew I would..."
"I had no idea..." she protested in all innocence. She sighed, looking to Vince, "Should we talk to him?"
"He'll get over it," TJ whispered, brushing her hair from her face, "I'm with my girlfriend. You know...I really love saying that...Hey, what are we going to do on the actual Valentine's Day? I have dinner in mind...maybe another trip to the playground..."
-0-0-0-0------------------Present Time---------------------0-0-0-0-
The waitress came back to our table, frowning at the mess I had made of the napkin. She took the plates and refilled my coffee cup, which Vince had polished off. He stirred in some sugar and cream, and for a time the clacking of the spoon against the glass mug was the only sound between us.
"We went to see Mikey," he finally said.
"Oh..." I fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers, "How's he doing?"
"He'd feel better if you came to see him."
"I don't know, Vince. He lives on the other side of town and..."
"I could give you a ride." I shifted through the pile of napkins, focusing entirely upon it. "I heard you got in a car on your..." He trailed off.
"Date?" I suggested.
"Yeah," Vince stared at the cup in front of him blankly, "Was it so bad? Going on a date?"
"No," I muttered grumpily, "It was the going on a date with someone who wasn't Spinelli that was the bad part." We were silent.
"I know it's hard, TJ..."
"We've been over this, Vince." He fell quiet, pushing the coffee cup away.
"Maybe if you went on a double date with one of us," he spoke up finally, "Would it make it easier on you."
"Yeah, and I've got an idea. Dress her up in baggy jeans and a tee shirt, put a black wig on her head, and give her some black boots. That might make it easier too," I snapped. He winced. It was harsh, but they weren't getting the message. "I don't want to move on, Vince. I don't want to date other girls, and forget the girl I love. I want my wife back, Vince. But you can't give me that, so stop trying."
"Well, I want you to smile again, TJ," Vince shot back, "I want to hear you laugh again. I want you to drive again! Remember when you got your license? Remember how excited you were, how proud? You came and picked us all up and you just drove us around. Remember?" he slammed the table and the people in the small café jumped, the woman behind him, the bottle-blonde, turned again in shock, all eyes on us, "A car is not a plane, TJ."
"You don't understand..."
"No, I don't understand," Vince sighed, "Why is this always the conversation with you? We used to be able to talk about other things. Ask me how I'm doing on the field, joke about my teammates with me, be the center of attention again for crying out loud, TJ!"
"What does it matter?" I whispered, "Either way...she's dead. I don't want to try anymore, Vince. I don't have a reason."
"Aren't your friends a reason?" Vince shook his head, staring away, I couldn't see the tears brimming his eyes behind those glasses, but I knew they were there, "We need you, Teej. We need you, not this, not some sulking jerk. Mikey nearly died of a drug overdose. Gus isn't talking to him. Gretchen had an emotional breakdown at work. I can't pitch worth shit anymore, Teej...we lost Spinelli. We lost her...she's gone...and it gets harder day-by-day, having to come to terms with it. We can't keep it together if we lose you, Teej."
"I'm already gone, Vince," I mumbled, lifting myself from the table, "I'm sorry." I threw some cash on the table and made my way to the front door.
"Mikey's going to kill himself if we don't do something," Vince called after me, and I paused. The thought a harrowing reminder of my responsibilities to the gang. "We're going to have a...one of those meeting things..."
"I'll only make it worse, Vince," I muttered, "I'll only bring everyone down." I slipped from the café without another sound, walking down the street. I only ever make things worse.
END A/N: Alright....
Who liked the scene where Spinelli came in through the door? Who thought it was extremely cheesy?
REVIEW!
Please excuse any grammatical and typing errors.
THANKS for READING. Another piece of advice: Watch reruns of Boy Meets World (It was the best show ever made, after all).