Chapter 10
He’s Not Coming Back
QFM on Wednesday was all about the upcoming election.
“I don’t vote,” Dallas declared from across the room. I wanted to ask him to explain why not, but bit my tongue. It would have been the first time I acknowledged the presence of my former nemesis and I wasn’t sure I was emotionally ready for that.
“That’s a dumb decision,” Phil declared, sparing me.
“Why?” Dallas shot back, his raised eyebrows making his face look even longer than normal. “I’m only one person.”
“What if everyone in the world thought the way you did?” Phil retorted.
I sat back in my seat, arms crossed. If I had been willing to talk, I would have said the same thing.
“It’s the electoral college that really decides the winner, not the popular vote,” someone else said. “Dallas is right.”
“How many of you are choosing not to vote in this election?” Helen the Librarian asked from her spot in the front of the room. About half of my classmates raised their hand. “So, you all are choosing to throw away your democratic right,” she said, her voice dropping at the end. She glanced around at the rest of us, the ones without raised hands. “Tammy, can you tell us why you choose to exercise that right?”
I sat up taller. “While it’s true about the electoral college, and I disagree with the two-party system in general, I can’t forget the women who risked their lives to fight for my ability to vote, and I want to honor that choice.”
“Honorable, true, but name the top issues on your candidate’s platform.” The voice came from Dallas’s side of the room, but it wasn’t him. Dallas quietly thumbed a rhythm on his desktop while the person next to him, a guy with red hair tucked under a baseball hat, glared at me.
I thought quickly. I knew I was going to vote for Al Gore, the Democrat candidate. “Global warming,” I said at last. All Democrats cared about the environment, right?
“I thought so,” the evil redhead said as my face heated up.
On the walk from class, my thoughts were mercifully far from Joshua. With each step, I reflected on the conversation in QFM. I may be determined to exercise my right to vote, but Baseball Cap was right: I had no idea what my intended selection’s platform was. I was determined to find it out, at the very least because it gave me something else to think about besides my long-distance relationship.
At our paper meeting that night, I suggested to Emily that I was going to cover the issues surrounding the upcoming presidential election.
“What about your column?” Emily asked, nose wrinkled.
“I’ll still do that one, too.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d give your opinions on the possibility of a male birth control pill. If you can handle that, I’ll let you write whatever political stuff you want.” Apparently, the population of Eckhart College cared more about contraceptives than they did about our future world leader. But not me, not anymore.
I set out on my new mission with conviction, interviewing my fellow students and notable professors on what they thought of the upcoming campaign. After my first article garnered some interest, Emily let me continue with more, culminating a few weeks before the election with an article entitled, “Why Your Vote Matters.” During our nightly phone calls, I taught Joshua all the nuances of the US election system.
October 31 continued its endless toll as I marked off X’s on my desk calendar. Joshua and I didn’t really talk about what would become of us once he left for England. I was too busy with my classes and the paper to really give it much thought. Or maybe I purposely blocked any thoughts of our future from my mind. Or maybe it was because my tears were in short stock—I’d cried so much in the past weeks that I had no more to supply.
The day finally arrived, starting off the same as any other, with a blast from my alarm clock. Instead of crossing off another X, I flipped the calendar to November so I wouldn’t have to acknowledge what would happen on October 31st.
I had to attend class as usual. Dallas wasn’t in QFM, so I dominated the discussion on the pros of Gore and cons of Bush. I had a test in O-Chem and then headed to my job in the mailroom. Afterward, I grabbed the mail out of my box.
I got home to a voicemail from Joshua. I put it on speaker as I went through my mail. “Tammy, you and I are meant to be together. I love you. And, I don’t know if I said this already, but I love you and I miss you. Love, Joshua.”
Love you, too, I mouthed to my phone, as I opened up my credit card bill.
“Seven hundred dollars?” I fell onto the couch. How in the world was I going to afford to pay that off? I scanned through the charges. Most of them came from the week Joshua was there. The rest was from drug stores. Calling cards.
“You could get a job,” was Jane’s solution when I told her about it. We’d gone to a local club. I’d forgotten it was Halloween until Lizzie showed up at my door dressed as a Greek Goddess, convincing me to put on my witch hat before we left. Jane was nothing discernible.
“How would I fit in a job with school, and the paper, and applying to grad school?”
Jane shrugged.
“Why don’t you ask your parents for the money?” Lizzie offered.
I shook my head. “Dad’s already mad about me getting a single room. He can’t understand how he’s paying more for less square footage. Besides, I’m supposed to be the responsible one. Running up an unmanageable debt would be something Corrie would do.”
“My neighbor gets the local paper delivered. I’ll ask if she’ll give you the want ads,” Jane said resolutely.
Lizzie nudged me as three guys in lettered sweatshirts approached our table.
“Mind if we join you?” one of them asked as another one shoved into the booth next to Jane.
“Apparently not,” I said aloud.
“Is that not okay?” the third one, dressed in a plaid shirt and overalls, replied. Unlike his cronies, he was still standing next to the table.
“It’s fine,” Lizzie said firmly. “Sit next to Tammy,” she said, scooting toward the middle of the booth.
I obliged by moving over a few inches. Overalls squeezed in next to me as I caught a whiff of his cologne. The other two guys engaged Lizzie and Jane in “getting to know you” conversation as I tore at the label on my beer bottle.
“Why are you sad?” Overalls finally asked me.
“I’m not.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
I sighed. “My boyfriend left the country today.” I left out the $700 credit card part, thinking he might give up his game after hearing I had a boyfriend.
“I’m sorry,” he replied. He too was playing with the label on his drink.
“What’s your story?” I conceded.
“I get nervous when I talk to pretty girls. Especially pretty girls with boyfriends.”
I laughed a little at that line.
He seemed to relax. “What’s your name?”
“Tammy.”
“So, Tammy, where in the world is your boyfriend now?”
I checked my watch. “Probably still over the Atlantic Ocean, on his way to England.”
“England, eh? That’s awfully far.”
“I know.” I felt lonely, sitting at the booth in the bar with my friends and nameless guys—without my boyfriend, the one person I needed most. If Joshua were here, I wouldn’t be sitting next to some guy wearing overalls, even if… I looked over at him. He was sort of cute, in a goofy sort of way, with a wide face and deep brown eyes.
The guy talking to Lizzie looked over at Overalls and made a gesture. “Do you want another drink?” Overalls asked me.
“Yes, she does” Lizzie answered for me. “I’m driving.”
I watched him as he got up. The stitched pockets on the overalls emphasized a well-shaped rear. Jane had always said that it’s not really cheating if you’re in a different zip code than your significant other. What if you are in a different country?
“What’s your name?” I asked as he returned with two more beers.
“Oliver.”
“Oliver Overalls,” I replied with a giggle.
“Now you’re laughing at me?”
I nodded.
“You have a pretty smile.”
I took a sip of my beer in lieu of a reply. The night continued. I got a little more relaxed with each beer that Oliver Overalls bought me. I figured I deserved a night of drunken flirting. As Oliver and his friends got up to leave, he bent over. I knew he was going to kiss me on the lips. And I let him… I don’t know why.
I thought Jane and Lizzie would demand a reason why I kissed another guy in the car ride home, but they didn’t say anything. I thought I’d be overcome with guilt for cheating on Joshua, but I only felt numb.
Election Day finally arrived, and, with the ensuing scandal, Florida soon became the most contentious state in the nation. The official report was that Bush won with 48.8% of the popular vote. Since the victory margin was less than .5% of the casted votes, a mandated recount was ordered. I’d voted absentee for Michigan, but that didn’t stop me from writing scores of articles on why voting was more important than ever.
As the nation anxiously awaited the results of the recounted votes, I also anxiously awaited news from my boyfriend, who I still hadn’t heard from. What was going on over there across the Atlantic Ocean? What happened to our fairy tale?
After another week went by with no word from Joshua, I confided to Jane over Chinese food that I was thinking about breaking up with him.
“You should. You’re not really cut out to have a boyfriend anyway, Tammy.”
“You’ve said that before. What does it mean?”
“It means… you used to be an adventurer. You were unique. If someone broke the old Tammy’s heart, she’d flash them her boobs or make them a tape full of derogatory Christmas carols. I’ve never met anyone quite like that Tammy. But this Tammy,” she gestured toward me. “Having a boyfriend seems so mundane, the road to being a soccer mom. That’s not you.”
“Just because I have a boyfriend, it doesn’t mean I’m shopping for a mini-van. I couldn’t afford one now, anyway.”
“How does it feel being mooched out of money by an absentee lover?” Jane asked, pointing a fork full of chow mein at me.
“Pretty awful, when you put it that way,” I replied.
“What happened with Oliver Overalls, anyway? He was pretty cute.”
“He was. He called and left a message for me, but I never called him back.”
“Why not?”
I didn’t want to remind her about my said absentee boyfriend, so I shrugged. I still had no idea why I let Oliver kiss me, but the numb feeling remained.
I pulled out a sheet of paper from my desk drawer when I got home. I wrote the words, “This is too hard,” across the top before crossing them out and pulling out another sheet. I went through several drafts before I finally had a letter I was satisfied with. A letter in which I broke up with Joshua. I made it clear that I was calling it quits only from now until April, when he would be back on the same soil as me. “I think this is the best scenario for both of us: I can concentrate on school and you can spend time with your family before you come back to the US.” I ended it by declaring we’d we would once again reign as the #1 Camp Couple next summer.
I left the letter in my desk drawer for a few days, hoping that I’d at last hear from my boyfriend. “But then what?” I asked myself. “Would I tell him about Oliver Overalls?” I finally deposited in the outgoing mail drop before heading to the airport to go home for Thanksgiving.
Drew picked me up from the airport Wednesday night. We chatted about school on the way home, and I told him about my articles. “I’m no longer invisible,” I said.
“I don’t think you were ever invisible,” Drew replied.
“Infamous, then. Instead of being known for that tape, people know me from ‘Tammy’s Tymes.’”
“Kellen’s coming over for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow,” Drew said abruptly.
I glanced over at my brother. One hand was on the steering wheel, the other draped casually in his lap. “Two hands,” I reminded him, sounding like my sophomore year driver’s ed teacher. Or my dad. “Kellen’s parents out of town again?”
Drew nodded as he placed the other hand at the bottom of the steering wheel. I’m not sure how much Drew knew about my former crush on Kellen, but he was usually as good as a canary in a coal mine: warning me in advance if Kellen was expected.
Dad had made dinner, although Corrie had last-minute plans to meet up with some of her high school crew and left without eating.
“More for us,” Drew said, reaching for her full plate.
After helping Mom shred the bread for the stuffing, I sat down at the computer to instant-message with Jane. She was an only child and usually as bored as me when we were home.
I’d just logged on when the name Denny Jones popped up on the screen. The message beeped. “Hey Tammy, how’s it going?” Out of context, it took me a second or two to remember that Denny was our camp director.
“Hey, Denny, what’s up?” I typed back.
The words, “Heard about Joshua. I’m sorry,” came back.
There was no way my break-up letter had already gotten to England. And even so, how would someone as innocuous as Denny know that we’ve broken up?
“???” I typed.
“I heard about Joshua’s dad. Didn’t you? He has lung cancer. Joshua’s not coming back to camp.”
I sat back in my chair, hands poised over the keyboard, pondering the words on the screen, a storm brewing in my body. The chair rolled back away from the computer, and I ran to the bathroom.
He’s not coming back. The words echoed in my head in Denny’s deep voice. I sat down on the closed toilet seat as I recalled the letter I’d sent before I left Eckhart. I’d only intended to break up with Joshua for the winter. But I couldn’t abandon him now. His father had cancer. Suddenly breaking up with him was the last thing I wanted to do. What should I do? The letter was making its way from Florida to Yorkshire, and there was no way I could stop it. I could call Joshua and tell him not to open the letter. But I didn’t have his phone number in England; it was sitting on my desk back at school.
I went back to the computer and IM’d my old boss again. “Denny, can you please look up Joshua’s home phone number for me? Please,” I typed again, not knowing how else to convey the importance of the task.
After a few anxious minutes, Denny finally got back to me. “Here’s his number, Tammy.” I breathed audibly as I watched the words come across the screen. “Sucks about his dad. Lung cancer doesn’t exactly have a good survival rate.”
After a quick computer search, I realized it was past midnight in England. I’d have to wait until the next day, but, luckily I guess, Thanksgiving wasn’t a holiday over there.
After a restless sleep, I finally rose at 7 a.m. It would have been lunchtime over there, but I still stared at the number on the paper for a good half an hour before I could work up the nerve to call overseas. An older man’s voice answered, the man I guessed who had caused this mess.
“Is Joshua there?” I asked, my voice breaking with hesitation.
“One minute,” he said, his accent heavy. “Joshua?”
“Who is it?” I heard him ask.
“Someone from America, I reckon.”
“Hello?” Joshua’s voice was breathless.
“Joshua, I’m-so-sorry-Denny-told-me-what-was-going-on-and-I-got-him-to-give-me-your-number-because-I-needed-to-talk-to-you,” my own voice was rushed as I fought back the tears that were threatening to fall yet again.
He blew out his breath. “Yeah,” was all he said.
“Listen, Joshua, you are going to get a letter in a couple of days addressed to you from me, and I want you to throw it away without reading it. Promise me that you will do that.”
“I promise.”
“Well…” I could think of nothing else to say to fill the silence between us. I wanted to remind him of all the other things he’d promised, but I didn’t. “I should probably let you go before I run up my parents’ phone bill.”
“Yeah.”
“OK… bye, Joshua.”
“Bye, Tammy.” He didn’t say he loved me, so I didn’t say it either.
I hung up the phone, heart still hurting. He’d said he would throw the letter away, but that was it. No explanation for why I hadn’t heard from him in almost a month. What I wanted to ask was whether he was still my boyfriend, but I couldn’t. By the tone of his voice and all the things he left unsaid, I think I knew the answer, anyway.
When I got back to school, I debated calling him again, but my phone bill was already way over what I could afford, so I ended up writing a six-page letter. I told him about the Ticiano painting, and how his camper had cut out that exact picture. I even told him that Shazzer thought it looked like him.
“I know now that we are meant to be together,” I wrote. I felt the need to justify our relationship. Or, at the very least, remind him of what was said over the summer. I made no mention of the break-up letter—I didn’t think I needed to since he’d promised to throw it away when he received it. I ended the letter with, “Joshua, I leave the ball in your court. I will do whatever you feel is right. If you want me to come to England, I will, in a heartbeat. Just say the word and I am there.”