The Forest for the Trees
A/N: So this is the end of the trilogy, where I officially say good night and goodbye to Tatum and Jamie, as well as this story's version of Randy. Thank you to anyone who has read the story over the course of its telling in three parts, and thanks especially to Kim who is the one who pushed me not only to write this installment, but to post it, as well. Hope you Enjoy!
They say that life is nothing more than a collection of decisions. Some are minor: breakfast cereal and toothpaste brands. Some are major: career paths and life partners. And some seem insignificant at the time that we make them, and then turn out to be life-changing in scope. If only we knew the difference at the time, ya know? If only we could tell which decisions would turn out to be the good, the bad, the minute, and the life-altering. If only our lives came equipped with crystal balls or, at the very least, an understand of how everything works together. It's kinda like that movie, The Butterfly Effect, I guess. Even the smallest, most thoughtless things, can change the entire course of your life.
I've always known that, on some level. But what the hell? I mean, what was Tatum thinking, just showing up at the arena to tell me that she still wants to be with me like that? That we belong together? How does she even figure that? We've never been together! Not like this - not healthy. What if we don't even like each other anymore? I mean, we've seen each other for a total of about eight hours in the last three years. People change a lot in that amount of time, ya know? I'm not the same guy I was three years ago.
Am I? I mean, all that stuff she was talking about? The traveling and the freedom and the spontaneity? She's right. I do love that stuff. Just like I always have. Not to sound like a cliche, but it's kind of an indescribable natural high, ya know? There's nothing like cliff-diving in Costa Rica or surfing in Australia. Nothing like locking yourself away from the world in a Vermont cabin for a weekend with a woman that you love, not really caring if anybody outside those four walls needs to get in touch with you or not. I sure as hell haven't put any thought into giving any of that up.
I think a part of me has always known that the Tatum door was still open, that it had never really closed. And a part of me knew that, at some point, I was going to have to make this choice. I just didn't think it would be so soon. When Jamie jumped on that bed, it sent my head spinning off in one direction. Then Tatum said her piece, and I found myself spiralling off in a totally different way. I tried to think of the pros and the cons, but it's really like apples and oranges, isn't it? I mean, Tatum and Jamie? You can't even compare them.
I mean, Tatum is free-spirited and artistic. She's passionate about everything that she does, and it shows in everything from the way she dresses to the way that she expresses her affection. When I'm with her, it is definitively the best or worst thing I have ever felt. It's like being in the plane before a sky dive. I mean, you get up there in the heights, and you look around, and you can't even imagine NOT wanting to be there, because it's the most breath-taking thing ever. And then, when you're just getting used to the view, she pushes you out of the plane and you find yourself plummeting toward the earth. And it's terrifying, and you think about the million ways that this thing could go wrong. And for most of the trip, you don't even know if parachute is going to open. Sometimes it doesn't. And sometimes it feels like you've been broken into a million little pieces, and the scars might never heal. And you find yourself thinking that this was the worst situation you have ever gotten yourself into. And then you turn your head, and there she is. Sometimes better, and most times worse, for wear and looking as beautiful as ever. That's when she holds out a hand for you to do it all over again, and you can't help thinking that all of this pain and suffering might just be worth that view from up in the plane.
Jamie, on the other hand, is even-tempered and administrative. I know that doesn't sound like much of a compliment, but for a guy like me? It's the perfect complement. My life gets pretty crazy, right? I have flights and shows and signings and appearances pretty much all the time, ya know? And some days, I don't know, man. Some days it feels like I'll never make it through. Days when my suitcase has exploded all over my fucking hotel room and I can't find the trunks I want for the show that night, and I'm already twenty minutes late for my meeting with Vince, and the stupid room service bastard brought me a hamburger instead of a turkey burger, and all I wanna do is throw it at him to relieve some of the tension? When the chaos that is my life is at it's absolute worst? Jamie. She's the one who grabs my trunks from the place they landed behind the television cabinet, pays the room service guy while calling Vince to explain that a few fans had me tied up in the hotel lobby but that she'll make sure I make it to the arena to meet him with plenty of time to spare. That's when she hangs up the phone, tells me to eat as much of the fattening hamburger as I can stomach, and then packs my duffel for the evening. And she's the one who gets up at 5:30 the next morning to work off the extra calories the next morning when I just can't stop thinking about them.
So you tell me - which is my dream girl? Huh? What do I want? The crazy sky dive that is Tatum? Or the security and stability that is Jamie? What do I want? Ultimately, does it even matter? I mean, Jamie made her decision, right? She ran out on me. Just left me standing there. And hasn't talked to me since. Tatum, however, seems to have also made her decision. And that decision is being with me. So if one walks out on me, and the other throws herself at me, the decision should be easy, right?
"I can't believe you came!" Tatum screeches before I can even get through the doorway of the airport bar. She throws her arms around my neck and clings to me like I might slip away if she bothers to let go. So I hug her back, breathe in the scent of her hair, and let years of memories flood over me. "I wanted so badly to believe that you would, but . . ."
When she doesn't finish the sentence, I follow her to the table she'd been occupying and sit, my eyes immediately drifting to the glass of red wine next to her empty plate. "Drinkin' on an empty stomach, Tate?" I ask her with a raised eyebrow. I don't wanna be judgemental, but the evidence is kinda right in front of me, ya know?
She just rolls her eyes and lights a cigarette before clanging the ice in a glass of water in my direction. "I've been staring at that thing for twenty minutes," she nods toward the glass. "Tryin' to psyche myself up to down it if you didn't show."
There was a time when that statement would have shot me in the heart. It would have convinced me that I made the right choice in coming to Tatum, because she couldn't possibly stay sober without me. But that time has passed, and we both know that we're not the same people we were back then. I'm not going to save her from herself. She's doesn't need to be saved. "I can't stay long," I tell her after a long silence. "Show tonight," I add, checking my watch as if to convince her that I'm telling the truth.
She takes a long drag of her cigarette and nods. "I'll take what I can get," she smiles widely, and I can see that her eyes are starting to brim with tears. Sniffling, looks to the ceiling and then back at me with a self-deprecating grin. "I'm sorry. I mean, I just didn't expect," she starts.
And I have to interrupt her. I can't bear to see her like this for another second. "Tate," I whisper, reaching across the table to cover her hand with mine. "You were right. Back at the arena, when you said that you and I were cut out of the same cloth, you were right. We were." Her dark hair shimmers in the dim light from the lamp hanging right above us. There's an expectant sparkle in her eyes. And I'm not sure that I will ever look at another woman the same why I look at her. She's my Tatum, and she is perfectly imperfect. Every scar and flaw is beautiful. Which is why it feels like a knife in my heart to say, "But we aren't anymore."
Unapologetically, she lets the tears fall over her cheeks and then catches them on the corner of her lip with her tongue before scrunching her nose and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She takes another drag and then offers me the weakest smile I have ever seen. As if my heart had never broken for her before, it shatters at the sight before me. "Who are you, Randy? If you're not like me, not that guy anymore, who are you?" There is a fire in her eyes that makes my heart sink.
"It's not about who we were. Or even who we are today," I start to tell her, not sure if I'm even making any sense. I mean, it makes sense in my head, but who the hell knows if that ever comes out in a way that anyone else can understand it. "We've changed a lot already, Tate," I plead with her to understand me, but I can already see her shell hardening. "I just want something," I stop when my voice catches in my throat. This is even harder than I thought it would be.
"Better?" she fills in for me, her dark eyebrow arched, as if she's challenging me. Like she wants to fight. Fuck, for all I know, she'll punch me in the face before I leave. Wouldn't be completely unheard of.
But she's wrong. I don't want something better than Tatum. There has never been a time, ever, that I have thought of anyone as better than Tatum. "Different," I correct her with a heavy sigh.
When she digs in her purse for the cash to pay her tab, I stand from the table and grab the wine glass between my fingers. She looks up, mouth opened to correct me, but I drain the glass before she has a chance. God, I hate wine. But I hate more the thought of her staring into the face of that temptation when I walk away. I'm well-aware that she can just order another once I'm gone, but I'm looking at this as my final chivalrous act as far as Tatum Sharpe is concerned.
She doesn't so much as glance my way when I exit the restaurant, and I'm not sure that surprises me. My relationship with Tatum was a myriad of things, but never friendly. We pretty much fell in love the first night and ran, balls to the wall, until we crashed and burned. If we aren't together . . . we aren't anything.
There's a small voice in the back of my head that says I should be mourning the death of that relationship. And, in my own time, I think I will. But all I can think about is what I'm going to say to Jamie when I get back to the hotel after the show tonight. I know I won't have time before, but dammit if I can stop myself from whipping out my blackberry and texting her that I want to meet her in my room at midnight. And then I hold my breath until she texts back just one letter: K.
---
I have nearly paced a rut in the floor of my room by the time Jamie raps her knuckles against my door at midnight. Crossing the room, I yank the door open and can't fight the smile. She's gorgeous - has been since day one. Blond hair and angelic features, Jamie is everything that I never thought I was looking for. But she's everything I want. Of course, I can't just tell her that, so I step back and let her into the room.
She walks purposefully, her hands moving slowly up and down the thighs of her jeans as she looks at the mess I've managed to create for myself. And even Jamie can't fight the smirk at just how lost I am without her. Her cheeks are glowing pink, and I'm not sure which of us is more nervous right now. "You want a drink or somethin'?" I ask her, heading toward the mini bar.
But Jamie shakes her head. "I'm good," she manages to whisper as she lowers herself to the corner of the bed. "So, I owe you an apology, Randy," she starts, licking her lips like she always does when she's anxious. "I mean, I laid a load of shit on you and then just took off. Avoided you. None of that shit's fair to you." Tucking her hair behind her ears, she just looks at the floor and then at me. "I tried to find you earlier, but John said you had an errand to run or something."
She thinks she has to apologize? That almost makes me laugh. Instead, I just go to her side and lower myself to the mattress. There's my girl's strawberry smell. God, I didn't realize how much I missed it. "I went to the airport," I tell her. "Tatum was in town for a few days, and she was flying out today." The look in her eyes is, at the very least, just as heartbreaking as Tatum's tears were earlier. "She told me that she wanted to try and make us work again," I explain, wishing more than anything that there was a way to tell her this part that wouldn't hurt her more than my past with Tatum already has. More than the last few months already have. "And she asked me to see her off today if I was interested."
"So you went to see her," Jamie nods slowly, rolling her eyes as though she already saw that coming. She starts to stand, but I grab her arm and pull her back down to the bed. "Randy, it's okay. I'm okay. This is what I asked for. I mean, I told you to rip the band aid off. I get it. I do. It's not like I didn't see it coming." Without thinking, I lean across the distance between us and press my lips to hers. Maybe it sounds lame, but I really couldn't think of any other way to shut her up. Or any other way that I wanted to shut her up. "What are you doing?" she asks frantically, jumping up from the bed.
For a minute, I think maybe she's going to run again. But she just starts pacing the same place I was earlier. "I went to see Tatum at the airport to tell her that I'm not the same guy I was back when we were together, and that there was no future for us."
"Us? As in you and me?" Jamie asks for clarification.
But I just shake my head and smile for the first time since she stepped over my threshhold. "Me and Tatum. We were wild, crazy kids when we were together. And it was good - I'm not gonna lie to you. Things were very, very good," I just cross my ankles on the floor and lean my arms back on the bed. "And sometimes they were very, very bad. And sometimes things with us were both. Up and down all the time, and it was fine. Because we were just kids. It didn't matter. We didn't have to be anything else." I hold my hand out to her and wait for her to take it.
She does, and walks to the bed, folding her legs under her as she plays with the fingers of my right hand. "And what makes you think you have to be something else now?"
Oh, I could tell her the story, but it's long and it's kinda . . . well, it's sappy, okay? And I'm not sure I want to tell her that, when I finally came inside the arena yesterday, after Tatum had left me, I was all fucked in the head, so I decided to go for a walk. And when I got to the corner, I saw Stephanie coming out of one of the rooms. She was wearing jeans and no make up, not at all like the Steph I've come to know and love over the last few years. I'm not sure she was even supposed to be working yesterday. She and Hunter have this schedule where they each spend time with the kids when they're on the road. I don't really know all the details.
Anyway, she was carrying her youngest kid - I never can remember their names - when Jamie came out and stopped her.I don't know what they talked about - it was a long hallway and I couldn't hear. But Jamie handed Steph a piece of paper and then Stephanie held her hand out. Jamie handed over her phone and Stephanie thrust that kid right at Jamie. And I stood there, watching my girlfriend look at this kid in her arms like she didn't have a fucking clue what she was supposed to do with it. And it was the cutest thing I had ever seen.
That's when Hunter came out of the room, with the older kid on his hip. That little girl can talk, let me tell ya. 'Course, none of us ever know what the fuck she's talkin' about. She's only three and she doesn't make a damn lick of sense, but she'll tell you the most elaborate stories if you get stuck listenin' to her. And wouldn't you know that yesterday, Jamie did. As soon as Hunter sat the midget on the table behind Jamie to listen to whatever phone call Stephanie was prattling away on, the little kid just starts talking Jamie's ear off.
I don't know why, exactly, that everything became clear right then, but it did. That was the defining moment.
"Alright, look," I finally say after a few seconds of her watching me curiously, "I don't really know how to say this. I just know that I used to be the guy who couldn't stomach the thought of being tied down. It made me feel sick. Physically ill. I mean, 'settle down' was, like, the most offensive thing you could possibly say to me. Marriage was out - I was never gonna do that," I chuckle at the thought of many family dinners with my mom begging me to find a nice girl to settle down with. Oh, I fought her so hard. She's gonna love Jamie. "God forbid my aunt or my grandmother ask me about kids. Shit.
"Tatum was the perfect girl for me back when I was that guy, James," I tell her, tightening my grip on her hand when she tries to pull away. "But I'm not that guy anymore."
What is that look in her eyes? Is it fear? No. Ya know what? I think that's sheer terror in Jamie's eyes. Great. Now I've scared her off. "Are you saying that you wanna start a family?" she asks, her voice shaking at the very thought.
Releasing her, I hold up my hands in defense. "Not even close," I promise her sincerely. "All I am saying is that, up until yesterday, I thought that life, and especially relationships, had to be either/or. That I could either have the crazy adventure that I had with Tatum, or I could have a calm, easy, beautiful life with you." Her nose scrunches up at the words I've used to describe her. Why does everyone act like a life devoid of drama is a bad thing? Maybe I'll ask her that later. Not really the point right now, is it? "But I don't think that anymore, James."
"You don't?"
I laugh and stand at the foot of the bed, trying to slow my thoughts enough to put together a sentence that actually makes sense. "Hell, no," I insist. "We're headed where tomorrow?" Without hesitation, she tells me that we're going to be in Nebraska. "Great," I clap my hands together and think about the last time I was in Nebraska. "Okay, not so great. I don't know Nebraska well. What's after that?" She rattles off something about Salt Lake City. "That's perfect! Utah is perfect. I know a place in the mountains there. I can call my friend Jake, make sure it's free. Then we'll rent some skis. Do you know how to ski?"
This time, she actually chuckles, but it's the kind of laugh that says she thinks I'm crazy. "Randy, we will get to Salt Lake around noon, and then you have a signing at two. After that, you have a house show, and you know we won't get out of there until almost eleven. By the time we get to this cabin you're talking about? It's gonna be after midnight," she crunches the times as sensibly as she always does. God, that's why I love her.
Of course, I don't really care about time right now. "So?" I shrug and she just rolls her eyes at me. "Alright, forget the skiing. But this cabin, James? It has this enormous fireplace - it's amazing. And there's this cheesy-ass bear skin rug that I always roll up and put in the closet, but how hot would it be to just lay around naked, making love in front of the fireplace on that damn rug? Snow fallin' outside? Just you and me?"
"It would be great," she starts, pulling her blackberry from the pocket of her coat. "But, Randy, we already have reservations," she starts.
I cross to her and take the blackberry from her, tossing it onto the chair. "You said the other night that you wanted to have a spontaneous, passionate, crazy relationship with me, right?" She starts to answer, but I just push her back on the bed and stretch out beside her, my cheek in my palm as I rest on my elbow. "Jamie, I love you."
"You do?"
Can she really be that surprised? I mean, it's not like this just happened over night? But she's so damn adorable when she asks that I can't help smiling and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Yes, I do. And there's this crazy tequila bar in Mexico that I wanna take you to the next time we're there. And the next time we're in Wales, there's this little bed and breakfast that I have to take you to. It's run by these two gay dudes who also herd sheep in their spare time. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night with one of 'em starin' right in the window." She raises an eyebrow sharply. "The sheep, not the guys," I correct myself and notice that she's starting to smile. "And I wanna take you cliff diving and maybe I can talk to this Swiss magician that I know about teaching you the art of being sawed in half," I start to list the number of things I want to show her that I know she'll think are crazy.
But she stops me short when her hand stokes my cheek softly and she considers me carefully. "What if it's not what you want, Randy?" She captures her bottom lip between her teeth. "What if I can't keep up with you?"
Okay, have you guys been listening to me? Because I don't think Jamie has. I don't think she understands that life is not about a nonstop thrill ride for me anymore. So maybe you could explain it to her? "I don't want our relationship to be what mine and Tatum's was. If that's what I wanted, James, I would be on a plane back to LA with her right now." Cradling her cheek in my palm, I run a thumb over her bottom lip. God, she's beautiful. "No rules, baby. This is our love story. We get to write it however we want."
"And that's sweet, Randy, but what if you get bored? I mean, I'm not exactly up for cliff diving and race car driving and all that other shit that you talk about? That stuff that makes your eyes sparkle and your heart race? The 'swinging from the chandeliers' sex up the ass bull shit you seem to love so much? That's not me. What if I'm just not exciting enough for you?"
Is she kidding? I just press my lips to hers and capture her hand against my face, directing it down my chest and below my waistband. Pulling away, I whisper against her lips, "Do you seriously think you're not exciting enough for me? Really?"
Do you guys remember how I told you, way back when I first started tellin' you the story of my crazy, chaotic, fucked up life, that I finally realized that I don't now anything at all? Well, when Jamie swings her leg over my body and pushes me back against the bed, I realize that I've learned something in the last few years: I can't save anyone but myself, but if I'm in the right place, at the right time, with the right girl, it doesn't matter. I don't have to save her. I just have to love her. Life takes care of the happily-ever-after.