Tainted Love (Sweetest Taboo #2) (18 page)

 I spent most of my time coming up with new reasons to avoid those visits we had promised each other, and often found that ignoring his calls was the easiest option. For the most part, I resorted to email instead, making sure that I emailed him in the middle of the night rather than during the day. At least that meant he couldn’t respond immediately, or call me back instead of emailing.

I sank down into a comfy sitting chair in my favorite campus café and pulled out my laptop, realizing I was overdue in sending him a daily email. He’d already called, so there was no danger of him calling back. Not immediately, anyway. Leaning forward, I started to type, drawing on all of my creativity to fluff up the email.

         
Dear Tom,

So sorry I missed your call earlier today. I was still asleep. We had a get together at the apartment last night, and I didn’t get much sleep. Having people over is so tiring! You barely get to enjoy the socializing, and then you have to do all of the cleaning afterward!

How are things going at home? Have you found a nice house yet? It sounds like searching is really frustrating. Things are really good here, just getting through all my classes, writing tons of research papers and finalizing all of the general ed. classes so I can get into a more interesting program next year. I still have hopes of going into publishing or pre-law, and think that I might lean toward international human rights, but I’m not 100% certain yet. It sounds so worthwhile, don’t you think? I’d just really love to do something with an international focus that actually affects people.

Sorry I keep putting off our visits. You’ve been in college, so I’m sure you remember how time consuming it can be. You also know me well enough to know how important it is that I do well in my classes and how determined I am to be valedictorian. Sorry, hun, I’m just obsessed with this because I want to get into a really great grad school. It’ll be worth it in the end, you’ll see.

I promise we’ll be together soon!

          Love you,

          Isabel

I sat back, grimacing. They were always like that, these emails. Brief. Very little emotion. The usual greetings, the usual (and same) questions, the usual update about classes and college life. There were never many details, and that was intentional. If I started going into detail, I knew he would start responding with questions, and I didn’t want to put myself in the situation of having to answer them.  It was my hope that keeping the emails neutral and brief would keep Tom from becoming suspicious or too nosy about my life in DC. Whatever he was up to back home, I wasn’t asking too many questions, and I hoped he would reciprocate with few questions in return.

There was always an excuse about why I was skipping out on the trips to see him, or why he couldn’t visit me. After all, how could I explain Tom to Marcus, or worse, Marcus to Tom? I didn’t know how much Marcus would care about Tom, to be honest. After all, Marcus and I continued to be ‘just a fling’ as Susie called it. Or so I kept telling myself. If Tom found out about Marcus, though, it would break his heart, and no matter how much I distrusted him, I certainly didn’t want to see him get hurt.

I sighed. It wasn’t fair, what I was doing. I should just tell him what was going on, get his feedback about it, open the lines of communication. We were supposed to be having an adult relationship now, where we could actually talk to one another and share our thoughts and feelings openly and honestly. After all, Tom had left his wife for me, for goodness’ sake. But I was undermining his commitment to me every time I chose not to tell him the truth. I still wanted him – I knew that much – but I wasn’t sure how it was going to work out, and that uncertainty was driving me right into the arms of another man. The uncertainty about Tom’s loyalty was making me question the relationship itself, and though I didn’t want to admit it to myself, being with Marcus was my way of getting back at Tom for what I assumed was very bad behavior on his part. This was nothing new, of course. I’d done the same thing in high school. Old habits die-hard. As Susie said, once a cheater, always a cheater.

“What’s up, Iz?” Susie suddenly asked as she popped up from behind my sitting chair with a hot cup of coffee in her hand. “You look like you just found out your dog died or something.”

I sighed. She wasn’t too far off. “Just trying to send this email to Tom. It’s awful, what I’m doing to him. I feel like I should just grow up and ask him about all those rumors I’m hearing. At least give him a chance to explain himself. Maybe there’s a good reason for what’s going on.”

She frowned, nudging me to take the cup of coffee. “Maybe. And maybe there’s not a good reason. Where there’s smoke there’s fire, Izzy, and you’re hearing those rumors from more than one person, right? I know you love him and you really want him to be innocent, but don’t you think asking for answers will just mean more excuses?”

I felt my shoulders droop. She was right – I did want him to be innocent, but I didn’t believe that he was. If I felt like Tom was making excuses, it would just break my heart. I wasn’t sure whether or not he still wanted me, but actually hearing that he didn’t want me and was with someone else would be too painful for words.

“Why don’t you just tell him goodbye, Iz?” she asked gently. “If you really wanted to be with him, you’d be with him. But you’re not. Instead, you’re having an affair with a college professor who, quite frankly, treats you like crap. So what gives?”

“I don’t know,” I said miserably, sipping the coffee. “Honestly, Susie, if I knew I’d tell you, but I can’t understand what’s going on in my head. I love him but I’m cheating on him. I miss him but I won’t see him. I can’t talk to him right now, but the thought of letting him go breaks my heart.” I stopped, too close to tears to continue. I couldn’t imagine a life without Tom. But how could I get at the truth without setting myself up for heartbreak?

Chapter Fourteen - Barely Breathing

T
om dropped his phone on the desk and stood up to pace the room. Isabel was clearly sending his calls straight to voicemail now, just when he needed her the most. Those cheerleaders had approached him again at school today, and he desperately needed to talk to Isabel about it, to share it and discuss what had happened. Isabel was the only person he could tell, the only person he could trust, and now she was becoming unreachable. It was infuriating.

He sat back down at his desk, breathing heavily, with only the computer screen in front of him providing a florescent glow which lit up the rest of his bedroom. Tom had to communicate with Isabel somehow, so he clicked open a blank email canvass and began writing. He remembered the old days, years ago, when they communicated their inner most thoughts to each other via letters that they would pass to each other through overt means, like a letter hidden in a text book that was passed back and forth between them. The written word had been an integral part of how they communicated back then, and perhaps it was the most suitable way to reach out to Isabel since she was clearly avoiding him and not taking his calls.

Before he was finished with the first sentence, his computer chimed with a new message from Isabel. Tom’s heart welled in relief at the sight of her name on the screen. She was thinking about him after all. Maybe everything was okay. Maybe she had just been very busy – in class or something – and hadn’t been able to answer the phone. As he read the short, choppy email, his hopes were immediately dashed. Her email was not only brief, but it was unemotional. The email communicated absolutely nothing but the mundane and trivial aspects of Isabel’s daily life. Tom could remember the rich, lengthy, emotional and compelling letters Isabel used to write to him, years ago. Where had that Isabel gone? I know where it had gone he thought, and that was straight into the arms of another man. Why else would she be avoiding me? What had I ever done to her, (except to love her with all of my heart), to warrant this kind of behavior from her? I was starting to believe she didn’t respect me at all. There could only be one possible reason he thought, and that was that Isabel didn’t love me anymore, that she had moved on and was too afraid to tell me about it. Avoidance for her was always her preferred route it seems.

What on earth was going on with Izzy, Tom asked himself. From his perspective, Isabel had seemed overjoyed at reuniting with him over the summer, and she had even reacted very positively when he told her about the house he wanted to buy. Isabel’s demeanor during those weeks they had spent together in the B&B communicated nothing but love and devotion. In fact, Tom had put his own house up for sale, based on Isabel’s agreement to live with him during summers and once she graduated from college. Now Tom wasn’t so sure that Isabel wanted any of that anymore. She’d blown off two visits already, and almost never answered the phone when he called. She certainly never called him back. Instead, she sent these strange, flat and inconsequential emails. Tom knew Isabel very well, though, and suspected she was keeping something from him, something that she knew he would tease out from her if they had the chance to talk on the phone or see each other in person.

Perhaps I should go visit her, he thought suddenly. Surprise her, show how much he cared, and how much he wanted to be with her. Besides, it would get him out of town, give him a break from the obsessive cheerleaders at school who wouldn’t leave him alone, in spite of his frequent warnings. As much as he wanted to get on a plane and surprise Isabel with an unexpected visit, Tom knew he couldn’t make the trip without first talking to Isabel about it. Oddly, Isabel had refused to share her address with Tom, even when he said he needed it to send her a care package in the mail. At first she told him that her roommate Susie asked her not to give the address out to anyone because Susie had been stalked by some guy and therefore was super sensitive about personal details such as addresses, license plate numbers and the like. Then Isabel told him that she wouldn’t share the address with him because she didn’t want him to spend any money on gifts for her, so if he didn’t have her address, he wouldn’t be able to send her anything in the mail. Tom did find it odd, but he knew that Isabel was a minimalist and never asked for, nor wanted gifts or materials things from anyone, so he chalked it up and didn’t challenge her excuses. True, he could go anyway, try to look her up in the phone book, or look for her on campus, but what were the chances of success?

If he were to be completely honest with himself, he would acknowledge that there was another reason for not making a surprise visit to DC. Tom just wasn’t sure what he would find upon arrival. Would Isabel be living with her roommate, Susie, who she had told him about over the summer? Or would she be living with some college guy she was afraid to tell him about?

The more he thought about it, the more uneasy he felt about his relationship with Isabel, and the more he questioned himself as to whether it was worth it at all.

As Tom sat wondered about Isabel’s life in DC, a sudden splattering sound against his front door startled his thoughts. The sound was followed by several more – splat, splat, splat. Tom jumped to his feet and rushed down the hallway and toward the front door, wondering what those sounds were all about. Standing at the front door, he peered through the peephole, searching anxiously for anyone on the other side. He didn’t see a soul, so he cracked the door open cautiously at first. When he found his porch empty, he opened the door further and stepped out into the cold evening.

The porch was covered in eggs, as was the front door and the two rocking chairs. Tom looked around, dazed at the mess, and jumped when he heard the shrill voice from across the street.

“Everyone knows what you did with Isabel Cruz, Mr. Stevens! Now you better stay away from my sister, or else!”

Several teenage boys scuttled out from behind the neighbor’s fence, grabbed their bikes, and raced away down the dark street, laughing wildly at what must have been a truly shocked look on Tom’s face.

Tom cringed, but made no move to follow the boys. There was nothing he could do that would remedy what those boys did to his front porch. And more importantly, he did not want to bring any attention to himself, nor did he have any interest in reporting the incident to the local police department and having to repeat the words shouted at him, words that would only invite more distrust and suspicion.

Tom was nervous, and on edge. The rumors were growing worse by the day, and he could no longer ignore the fact that the cheerleader trio was beginning to jeopardize his career. The longer it went on, the greater the chances that someone would report the rumors to the district administration. Tom had ignored the threats and rumors generated by these cheerleaders as long as he possibly could, but the vandalizing of his home was more than he could bear. Tom believed that Isabel was the only person who could absolve him of any perceived guilt. She was, after all, the person whom the cheerleader trio held over his head, the evidence they used to try to get Tom to bed one of them. If Isabel could just come home and talk to some key people at the district, assure them that nothing happened between us while she was a student, then any allegations about Isabel and me that could potentially be reported to the district would likely be dismissed.

Unfortunately, Isabel was completely out of reach, and clearly unwilling to return Tom’s phone calls.

Still, there was one other person who he could turn to, someone he believed would understand. If he was lucky, she could even provide some advice and ease his anxieties.

Chapter Fifteen - Crucify

“
I
just don’t know yet,” I sighed into the phone. It was the fifth time I’d said it, by my count, but it didn’t seem to be getting through.