Chapter Fourteen
Marla
My father was angrier than I had ever seen him in my entire life. His face was red, and his hands were clenched into tight fists. This was not the gentleman I knew. The man who could hold a baby and rock him to sleep. The man who would braid my hair when I was a little girl.
No, this was an angry bull elk ready to charge and defend what was his.
“Get inside,” he barked at me.
I didn’t move, afraid to leave him alone with Tank. What would he do? What would he say?
I glanced up at Tank and saw the shame in his eyes.
Ruined, everything was ruined because I couldn’t keep my hands off of him. He had tried to warn me. Had tried to avoid this. The one thing he didn’t want and I had ruined it for him.
“Now!” My father said again. His voice low and cold. I could tell it was taking every bit of his willpower to stop himself from grabbing me and pulling me into the house.
“Daddy,” I started to say. “You don’t understand...”
“I understand perfectly,” he said as he looked at Tank. The disappointment in his eyes must have cut Tank to his very soul.
“No, you...” I began.
“Do what he says Marla,” Tank said as he gently pushed my lower back.
I looked up at him. Unable to believe he was sending me away.
“Please,” he said. I could see how important it was to him. His eyes pleaded with me not to make things even worse.
Biting my lip to stop myself from crying, I slowly made my way to the door leading into the house. My dad stepped aside so I could get by but never took his eyes off of Tank.
“Daddy...” I started to explain, but he quickly shook his head and nodded towards the inside of the house.
“We’ll talk later. Get inside.”
I swallowed hard and looked back at Tank. The guy looked like his world had just come to a sudden end. He glanced at me and nodded for me to go inside.
This was ridiculous. I was a part of this. It was all my fault, I should be there to deal with the consequences.
Once I was inside, my dad slammed the door behind me. I turned to listen, but I couldn’t hear a word. What were they doing? Were they circling each other ready to fight? No, impossible.
What would my dad do? We hadn’t done anything but kiss. This was stupid.
“What’s going on?” my mother asked as she came out of the living room with a book in her hand. The look she shot me was only curious. “Why is your father slamming doors?” She had no idea how my world had just come apart.
I lost it. I completely came apart. The weeks of tension. The letter, the fear, and joy. Everything had built up to this moment, and I lost it.
I began crying. That deep, ugly cry where you can’t catch your breath. “You have ... to ... stop him,” I blubbered. “He doesn’t ... understand.”
“Who,” my mother asked with a furrowed brow.
“Daddy ... Tank ... me. Please, you have to stop him. He will ruin everything.”
My mother was an intelligent woman. It didn’t take her but about a half-second to figure out what was going on. The creases in her brow relaxed as she pulled me into her arms.
She didn’t say anything. She just rubbed my back as she held me.
We stood like that for almost a minute. My head buried on her shoulder. I couldn’t stop crying, my heart was breaking with every sob.
Suddenly, my father opened the door and stormed past us.
“Jim?” my mother said.
“Not now, Molly,” he replied as he kept walking away from us.
“Tank?” I asked weakly, my voice barely working.
My father halted in his track but didn’t turn around.
“He’s gone,” he said simply then finished walking away from us.
Noooo, he couldn’t be. Not like this. Not now. Not without saying goodbye.
I pulled away from my mom and started to go outside. She gently grabbed my shoulders and said, “Not now, Marla, give it time.”
“But mom, you don’t understand. No one understands. All we did was kiss. I kissed him, he never ...”
She smiled sadly and nodded. “Go to your room for now. Give it time. It will get better, I promise.”
I looked into her eyes and saw that she really didn’t understand. She thought this was some silly crush. Some simple flirtation that had gotten out of hand. She would never understand the depths of my love for Tank. The life I had spent wanting his love.
I ran up the stairs, crying again. My life was over before it began.
Throwing myself onto my bed, I buried my face in my pillow and screamed. Nothing would ever be right again.
How could this happen? What must Tank be going through? Where would he go? Where would he stay? I couldn’t imagine him going back to his mom’s house, not as long as his father was there. He’d die first.
My mind filled with visions of him roaming the streets of Everton. Of him cursing the day he had ever met me.
I spent the night, hiding in my room. Avoiding everyone. I was relatively sure I was never speaking to them again.
Mom sent Michael up to my room with a plate of food. He shot me a look of empathy. Something you didn’t see from Michael very often. Like he was looking at a terminal patient with only one day to live. Obviously everyone knew what had happened.
“Mom said to bring you this,” he said softly. Obviously afraid he was going to upset me and start another crying jag.
I ignored him and turned to stare at the wall.
He mumbled something under his breath and silently left my room.
I lay there, falling into a deep hole of despair. Hating the world and my parents in particular.
The next morning I snuck out without seeing anyone. I had to get to school and talk to Tank. I had to find out what happened. How much did he hate me?
He had been within a heartbeat of breaking up with me. I knew we weren’t officially boyfriend and girlfriend. But it had felt like we were. That tender special feeling that existed between us. I thought we were there.
But then, I had seen it in his eyes. He was going to end it before it could really get started.
I had ruined everything by kissing him. It wasn’t his fault. I thought that if I could get him to feel what I felt, he wouldn’t end it. He couldn’t.
Sighing, I tried to hold myself together. The bus took forever. The kids gave me strange looks. I thought at first that they had heard the sordid tale. But then I realized, they were just surprised to see me there. I’d been riding with my brother.
Once a person found a way to avoid the bus, they never came back.
They didn’t know I was keeping away from Jason. I didn’t want to see that accusatory stare of his. The one that told me how upset he was with me for hurting his friend. Pissing off Dad. And generally screwing up again.
When I got to school I made a beeline for Tank’s homeroom. My mind was working at a mile a minute. He might not even stop at his locker. But he couldn’t avoid his class.
Parking myself outside the door I waited, scanning the hall, not worried I might miss him. The guy sort of stood out.
My heart raced as I fought to stop my hands from sweating. What had my dad said? What did Tank think? A dozen different questions kept running over and over through my mind.
But he didn’t show?
The bell rang, and still, I didn’t move. His teacher shot me a look but didn’t say anything as he closed the door. And still, I didn’t move from that spot.
It was at least five minutes before I started for my own class. My stomach lost in a whirlpool of doubt and questions. Where was he?
I took my tardy slip and filed it away. I was probably going to have a few more before the day was done.
After each class, I would race to his next room and wait. Out of breath, I would search the crowd. Hoping, praying. But nothing.
For three days I did this. My life revolved around looking for Tank and avoiding my family.
I skipped dinner. I wandered the neighborhood. I even stopped at his mom’s to see if he was there.
Nothing, the guy had disappeared and taken my heart with him.
It wasn’t until lunch on Friday that I finally accepted that he wasn’t coming to school. Where was he? Was he alright.
I suddenly got a flash of him jumping onto a freight train and riding out of town. Out of my life forever. I could see Tank doing that. Thinking he was saving me pain by leaving. Ashamed that he had disappointed my father. He would think the only solution was to leave.
Couldn’t the boy see? Wasn’t I worth fighting for?
At lunch, I decided to hunt down Jason and confront him. He might know where Tank was. I would take the look of disdain from my brother if it meant I could learn that Tank was okay.
“Where’s Jason?” I asked Amber as I came up behind her in the lunch line.
She looked at me with sad eyes. She smiled sadly. I knew she wanted to help me. But no one could.
“Oh, Marla,” she said as she slowly shook her head. I could tell she was feeling my pain. But that didn’t matter, I needed to talk to my brother.
“Where is Jason?” I asked again. Focused on finding out what had happened to Tank.
“I don’t know,” she said as she slid her tray down the row. “He dropped me off this morning then said he had to do something and he wouldn’t tell me what.”
My heart fell. Jason was my only path to Tank. Nick and Luke wouldn’t tell me anything. They’d circle the wagons and wouldn’t spill a thing. I had hoped that my sibling might feel some of my pain and share with me.
Sighing, I left my tray of food there on the line, turned and walked out. Hanging my head, my shoulders slumped in defeat.
That afternoon, I raced home from the bus stop and slid to a halt. Jason’s truck was parked outside our house.
“Jason,” I yelled as I stormed into the house. My heart racing, my hopes starting to go up. I was done hiding. I was done feeling guilty.
“Jason,” I yelled again.
“He’s not here,” my mother said as she stepped out of the kitchen, stirring something in a bowl.
Three little words and my world came to a complete stop again. Where was Tank! I wanted to yell. Didn’t anyone care?
“Where is he?” I demanded.
“I’m right here,” Jason said as he stepped in the front door. My hands clenched up as I turned to face him, then my insides turned to soup when I saw Tank follow him into our house.