Shark Out of Water (Grab Your Pole, #3) (15 page)

I was about to go the locker room again to find Tristan so I could let him know I have to run home, but then it occurred to me that in all my fruitless searching both there and in the parking lot, I hadn’t seen him. Huh. He usually parks in the back lot but sometimes moves his car to the front during Shop, so not seeing his car where it was this morning wasn’t all that weird, but he has Team Sports last period so logically he would’ve been in the locker room right after school got out which was when I was there. Okay, so texting it is. It’ll probably be better for me this way anyhow…I don’t think he’d make the effort to take and send a picture of himself with the irritated glare I’m sure he’ll have on his face when I tell him I’m gonna be late…

Me:
gota run hm 4 glove. meet u @ field in 20.

Okay, so I’ve got twenty minutes to get my game face on. Cool. That should be plenty of time for me to shove her to the way back of my mind and build some kind of wall so he can’t peer into the north forty of my brain. I can only keep him out for so long and not only is it really hard to do, but I know I won’t be throwing to the best of my ability until I stop fighting the link. The bond is freaky and weird but it’s really cool at the same time, and as backwards as it might sound, I usually feel empowered with it in place. However, it works both ways and I don’t especially want even a glimpse of what Tristan’s going through at the moment. I have a feeling his mind is a dark and particularly depressing place to be at this particular juncture in time. I already know he’s hurting, but he’s also still feeling some massive guilt and whatever he did to create that guilt has
got
to be seriously ugly and to top it off, he misses both Camie and Jeff more than he’s admitting.

Knowing all of that is one thing, but seeing it swirl around in his head and, to some small extent, feeling it too…? Well, that’s a whole other ballgame and I just don’t think it would be beneficial for either of us at the moment. I think he’s actually been building his own wall lately in an effort to protect himself
and
me, but in any event, the link has been creeping back into place over the last weeks and it’s only a matter of time before it solidifies. When that finally happens, regardless of what we do, neither of us will be able to keep much a secret from each other. So knowing that, I’m guessing the ball season this year will be interesting to say the least, but I think he and I both will be spending quite some time learning how to misdirect our thoughts and mentally distract each other from the things we don’t want known.

I was about halfway home and building my wall with the help of Kenny Rogers and his song “The Greatest,” which is a great tune about a little kid who sets out to be the best baseball hitter in the world and every time he throws the ball for himself, he swings and misses. He keeps trying and confidently tells himself that he’s the greatest, but by the end of the song, he realizes that he’s not the best hitter and the last line is, “I am the greatest, that is understood, but even I didn’t know that I could pitch that good.” Yeah I know…but it’s been my anthem ever since my little league coach discovered how fucking
extraordinary
I am on a pitcher’s mound. Oh, yeah, I might not be a jealous person, but I
am
just slightly conceited. Just a little though, about a half-cup, so it’s cool. Anyway, I was singing and tooling down the street towards my house when Tristan’s live call startled me so much that I momentarily forgot the lyrics to a song I’ve been singing about myself since I was seven.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“
Really?!
Can you fuckin’ think of maybe just
one
goddamned reason why I would say
fuck no
to that?! Is everything okay…Jesus Christ.”

“Sorry, dude, I meant specifically because of the call.” See what I mean about the irritated glare and such?

“
Shit!
I’m sorry…hey man, I forgot about practice,”
He
forgot? “And I can’t make it anyway…sorry…
again
.”

I was speechless.

“Uhh…okay? What do you have goin’ on?” It was all I could think of after hearing that “Mr. I never forget anything” forgot we were meeting up.

“My own version of the
Amazing Race
…hopefully if I win I’ll be able to get some fucking sleep tonight. Oh by the way, man, don’t ever mix turkey and Nyquil together…it’s nasty and it doesn’t fuckin’ work anyway…I gotta go, wish me luck.”

“Uh, good luck.”

Yeah, I’m not even gonna ask for clarification on any of that. If I did, I bet he’d tear down the wall he put up and just let me see for myself and that’s just something I would like to try to avoid for as long as I live, because seriously? He mixed Nyquil and turkey? Dark, depressing, and ugly indeed and now I think we can safely add desperate to the list as well.

Then again,
I’m
the one who was semi-seriously threatening the lives of
his
children earlier in the week…

Do not pass go, do not collect $200 ~ Jeff

I was kinda hoping to catch Tristan right after school, being that campus is neutral territory, but when the bell rang for us to head back to the locker room to change and he made it clear he wasn’t hanging around by literally sprinting to the parking lot from the lower field where we were playing soccer, I began to reconcile myself to a meeting on uneven footing. I just didn’t know he’d have a mounted advantage when I found him.

After I changed and told Katy what I was up to and made sure she could get a ride home from practice if I was still talking, I went to his house. However, lo and behold…he wasn’t home, which in all honesty surprised me because he didn’t even change back into his street clothes when he left school. I must’ve just barely missed him though, because I really doubt anything could be so important that he’d be willing to be seen in public in our fuckin’ gym clothes. And it wasn’t like there was a true emergency or that he hadn’t planned on taking off like that because he had his keys and shit with him during class.

I thought about texting him to see where he was, but I didn’t wanna give him advanced notice I was coming; he’d have the chance to disappear and this is gonna be hard enough for me as it is. So I let myself in to his house with my key—yeah, I’ve had a key to his house since we were little. It was just easier than crawling through the doggie door into the garage and then finding the spare key hidden in the coffee can with all the thumbtacks. Once I was in, I went upstairs to snoop around his room to see if I could figure out where he was on my own.

I didn’t expect it to be all that difficult, knowing him as well as I do, but one look at the board and anyone who’s noticed his fuckin’ foul mood lately would know the reason for it, have a damned good idea about why he took off like he did, and, exactly where he was headed.

Tristan:
What the hell is THIS?!

Tristan’s Mom:
It appears to be a wrapper belonging to a portion of the new bedding I bought you.

Tristan:
Clearly. Specifically, it’s the wrapper to a
new pillow
. Did the old one do or say something to offend you because I can’t imagine any other circumstance where you’d deem it necessary to kick it and the rest of its happy pillow family out of the house without discussing it with me first.

Tristan’s Dad:
Am I sensing some unappreciative sarcasm?

Tristan:
You’re damned right! Where the hell is the old stuff?

Tristan’s Mom:
I would also say snippy.

Tristan:
I’m snippy because I’m tired and I’m tired because the pillow I can’t sleep without was kidnapped yesterday. It doesn’t help that the new ones smell like they belong in a sterile environment suitable for surgery. So WHERE is MY pillow??!

Tristan’s Mom:
Andrea called so I took it all out to lake for her. By the way, I cleaned up the horrific mess you made in the kitchen last night, so can I get a “thanks, you’re the best” now?

Tristan:
It all depends on how my rescue mission at the lake goes so I’ll have to get back to you on that one.

Oooh
. No wonder he’s been pissed off. Andrea lives on the parcel of land next to Tristan’s parents’ and her husband is kind of like the caretaker of the horses and the property. She helps run a shelter for battered women and children and they’re always needing donations and stuff. Tristan’s mom volunteers there too and is always finding shit to give away and while I agree that it’s a really great way to help people out, giving away her son’s bedding including his cuddle pillow without asking him…well, not so cool. But still, she didn’t know and because of this little dialogue, I now know where to find him so I added my own comment to the conversation. I also congratulated myself on my mad sleuthing skills when I had to kick Tristan’s gym clothes out of the way so I could write on the board without standing on them.

Me:
Well if it helps, I still think you’re the best, so thanks for that.

I pulled out my phone to call Katy and let her know I was going out to the lake, but before I could even bring up her number, my eyes hit another short conversation. It pertained to a picture of Camie that was pinned to the bulletin board with a Chance card for a Monopoly game that directs the holder to go directly to jail without passing go attached to it.

Tristan’s Mom:
What’s this?

Tristan:
A picture of the most beautiful thing in all creation. You know her as Camie but I’ve sort of come to think of her as jailbait so to put it simply, it’s a picture of my girlfriend.

Tristan’s Mom:
I’m not even going to ask.

Tristan:
I don’t blame you but if you could do me a favor, if I ever wind up in jail, I’ve heard that Big Billy’s Bail Bonds is the place to go. Because really, I’m big and all and I can probably fight off most guys who might want to make me their bitch but ultimately, I’m just too pretty to spend a lengthy amount of time in jail so if you could do what you can to limit my time I’d appreciate it. Thanks, you’re the best.

Reading it caused me to completely forget why I was holding my phone when I got in my Jeep to leave, but more importantly, I think one more piece of the puzzle might’ve just fallen into place.

I
think
…

Desperation, Dukes of Hazard style ~ Tristan

Okay, don’t panic…

Andrea might not have picked it all up yet and if she did, maybe she hasn’t taken it to the shelter yet. If I have to, I can run over to her place to see, and if she already took it into town, well, I can always just go to the shelter and do a seek and destroy to reclaim my pillow…without the destroy part of course. That would just be vindictive and mean.

It’s not as ridiculous and infantile as it sounds you know. That pillow was my cuddle pillow long before Camie, but ever since I got to sleep next to her at Mike’s, it’s gotten me through many a long and lonely night that would’ve been entirely sleepless without it when all I wanted to do was curl up with my baby but couldn’t. It’s just the right size and softness to cuddle and the stuffing is lumped up in all the right places, and after trying to sleep on those institutional smelling pillows last night with the girls on my head, I can completely and totally sympathize with them about their shirt. It must’ve been a subconscious thing because I never really put it together before, but that pillow smells like Camie too. It was the pillow she used for her nap in the bus that day when we kissed the first time…I didn’t admit it to her then, but her having my pillow was partly why my nap sucked, and it was the pillow her head landed on when we made out at my house after the movies on our first date. I took it to the desert and then to her house when I stayed the second night after the car accident, and I had it the whole time I lived with her too, but because I had her to cuddle all those nights, she always ended up sleeping on it. Not only does that pillow have the perfect contours for me to use it as a substitute for her, but it also holds memories and now probably sits at the top of my list of sentimental valuable objects. So, you can clearly see how the world will come to an apocalyptic end if I don’t get that pillow back.

I took the corner of the dirt road leading up to the cabin a little fast and ended up spraying gravel everywhere when I spun my car around like it was the General Lee and came to a skidding halt in the driveway. Under normal circumstances, playing
Dukes of Hazard
would’ve been a lot of fun but it was really just a faster means to an end, and the only reason I even turned the engine off before flying out of my car was because my key to the house is on the same keyring. I barely gave the entryway a glance and headed straight for the utility room at the back of the cabin where the washer and dryer are kept and where my mom keeps two big plastic bins for collecting donations.

Amazing relief washed through me when I saw the bins still filled with my stuff but, it was short lived. I should’ve known… My mom never donates anything without cleaning it first, which, of course, means my pillow no longer smells like my baby. I buried my face in it and all I could smell was fabric softener.

SHIT!

Then an even worse possibility occurred to me so I ran back to the front of the house and threw myself and my pillow onto a couch in the family room. Oh, thank you, God…it might not smell like her, but at least it still fits the way it used to.

I was lying there, considering a nap with my much missed pillow, and wondering if I could maybe talk Camie into sleeping on it for a couple of nights like she did for the cats and their shirt. How’s this?

“Uh, Baby, I know I haven’t exactly been the greatest boyfriend in the world lately, considering you’re under the impression that we’re broken up and that I’m the one who broke up with you, and yeah, I know my behavior the night of your party was atrocious and there’s absolutely no excuse for it, but um…do you think you could find it in your heart to sleep on my pillow for a few nights, because you know how my mom is and well, she washed it and now it’s just not the same. Oh, how will I sleep without it while you’re being so compassionate in being an enabler for my irrational obsession with you and sleep? Well, I know it’s probably not what you’d expect from a guy who broke up with you because you wouldn’t have sex with him, but I really think the cats will get pissed and probably claw my eyes out if I try to take their shirt from them while you have my pillow, so I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t mind if I snuck into your house at night and slept next to you. Just sleep. I promise there won’t be a repeat of your party because I won’t be drunk for one thing, but honestly, I’m pretty fuckin’ tired…”