Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never (28 page)

Ty removes his cigarette from his lips and blows out a puff of smoke.

“Don't talk to my girl like that, bitch,” he says.

I leave that bar a new woman.

Time flies here. It's incredible. Days turn to weeks that are just one, endless span of life, all of this fighting and making up, these moments of just remembering to breathe. There are sweet, sharp moments with Noah (who I haven't let go of yet but who I owe so much to) and my family; hot, dark ones with Ty; and a whole lot of hurting and healing. The process, I have come to understand, is not one that can have a beginning and an end. It's something that's continuous, forever being expanded upon. I can't just have this epiphany where I'm all better again. That will never happen. What I can do is make sure that each day is better than the last, and if it's not, I have to figure out why, understand it, break it down. Ty makes that so easy for me. He's the only thing that's remaining constant right now, holding me in place while everything else spins around me. He tucks my head under his chin at night, holds me and whispers sweet words (or dirty ones) until I fall asleep. I feel more rested than I have in years. No more crying at night, not for me.

“You do know that it's totally lame to put up a tree like four days before Christmas?” I tell Beth as we scramble to get the lights on, so the little girls can start hanging ornaments. Zella, whose phone calls I've been avoiding like the plague, says that if the decorations aren't up by the time she gets here then she's going to turn around and head straight back to Texas. I want to talk to her, I really do, but I want to wait until I can see her face. More than ever I believe that most of communication takes place through body language, and I'm afraid that if Zella and I can't look into one another's eyes, that something might get lost in translation.

“I didn't see you doing anything about it before now,” Beth says around a light bulb. She's stuck it between her teeth and is trying to wrestle a broken one out of the strand. The strand is winning.

“Well,” I say as I glance over at Ty who's sitting cross legged on the sofa, untangling yet another strand of old, white lights. “I didn't have the time for it.” Ty senses that I'm talking about him and looks up, meeting my eyes with a flash of sin that tells me I'm in trouble later. I make myself a note to stop by the store today and get more condoms. We've gone through a whole box and then some. Maybe it's because we're both still sex addicts, will always be sex addicts. Or maybe it's just because he's so fucking hot. Hard to say.

I step back and examine the tree with a sick feeling in my gut. I'm standing in the living room, yes, the living room, after all this time. The memories of my father's death aren't gone, not by a long shot, but since Ty and I confronted Luis, I'm not so afraid of them anymore. I can look at them without breaking down, without running into the arms of a stranger. After all, if I need to run into anybody's arms, I can run into Ty's. And now finally, I can truly, honestly say that I'm not mad at my dad, not anymore. He didn't choose to die. He didn't choose to leave me with that woman who even now is looking into the living room with a sour expression on her face and sea turtle earrings hanging from her stretched out earlobes. And as far as not being around when he was alive, I can't blame him. My mother makes even the best of occasions uncomfortable.

“That's organically grown?” she asks which is such a stupid fucking question that nobody answers her. Nobody except Noah Scott. He steps into the living room in his coat and gloves and sets the last box of decorations down on the floor. They've been kept in the barn for years and are not in the best of shape, but we've decided to go through them all, make a proper Christmas for the little ones. It makes all the sense in the world to me. I have to give something back to them. These past few weeks have been … interesting. I've gotten to know the ones I left and the ones I never knew, but it hasn't been easy, and we're just getting started. Plus, Zella gets back today and who the hell knows how that might go.

“Of course, Ms. Regali,” Noah says with a smile, and I notice that my mother gives him a lingering look that makes my stomach sick. She might think she's some free spirited, hippie who's changing the world with her cage free eggs and the vegetarian meatloaves she makes for her new boyfriend, but she's not fooling anyone. She is a selfish caricature of a person, and I have taken to simply ignoring her.

“Yeah, Mom,” I say and I try to make my smile look real pretty when I continue. Maybe she won't know I'm being sarcastic. “Because in the Midwest, we always make sure to import organic Christmas trees. It's a big issue 'round here.” My mother stares at me but says nothing. It's Beth who takes the reigns. She's my soul momma.

“Never, grab me that next strand if you would.” I roll my eyes as my mom leaves for yet another date and lean down to grab the lights. Noah and I end up brushing hands as we both go for it and get caught staring at one another. It's so hard to look at him everyday and know he can't be mine. He just can't be. If I could have him
and
Ty … well, I don't know what I'd do, but I can't, and there is no way in hell that I can lose McCabe. It just isn't happening. I could list you reasons, but then you'd never escape. My love for him is endless. And when we're together, just me and him, I can't even think about Noah Scott, but then, I can't find anything wrong with Noah either, anything to discredit him. I was in love with him, never stopped being in love with him, but maybe I need to take a step back and look at this from a different point of view. Ty McCabe is Never Ross' soul mate; Never Regali belonged to Noah Scott. She is long dead, so I think it's time I said something to Noah before he gets hurt, really hurt. I can't do that to him again. He's been waiting around for me all this time. At the very least, I owe him a hug and an apology. We could be good friends, I think, if he lets us be. He may not. Right now though is not the time. I don't know when or if there'll be a perfect moment, but I can't say anything with my sisters and Ty around. Things wouldn't be so awkward if they didn't keep inviting him over. He even stops by on his own half the time, catches up with us when we're on walks, sits next to us while we read. I know he loves me, but I just can't love him back, not more than I love Ty.

“I hope Zella appreciates all this work,” I say instead as I flop down next to Ty. My stomach is roiling and making me nauseous. I blame India's cooking. Last night, she wanted to make me something special and tried to whip up some homemade mac 'n' cheese. It tasted like dog shit, but I ate it anyway. For her. Always for her. I think, also, that I'm feeling ill because of Zella's homecoming. She was not so supportive when I left, and she seems the least shook up that I was even gone. Maybe she doesn't even care? I swallow hard and spin Ty's ring around my finger. Since he gave it to me, I haven't taken it off, not even once.

“I hope so,” Ty says as he stands up and passes Beth the strand he was working on. “Because she's damn lucky to have a family like yours. The closest thing I ever had to a brother was my cousin, and he died a long time ago.” I pause; Noah pauses; Beth pauses. Even Lettie who's coming in to hand me a cup of sweet tea pauses. They may not know exactly how rare it is to hear Ty talk about his past, but they can sense it. This is big. Ty is revealing a piece of himself to us. I don't know why he's chosen this moment, but the words just seem to slip past his sexy lips and sit heavy with us in our room of lights and wreaths and plastic, chubby, fat fucking Santa Claus's. “My mother ran him over with her SUV,” Ty says and we all just sort of sit there in stunned silence.

“Um, here,” Lettie says, realizing even at thirteen that maybe she better go, that maybe this isn't a conversation for her to join in on. Even Beth seems uncomfortable. Noah, though, oh, I don't know about him. He just seems sad for Ty. He's sort of selfless like that.

“I'm so sorry,” he tells Ty, and it's weird to see Ty look up at him with a sad smile. Ty and Noah might not be friends, but in the last two weeks, they've gotten used to one another. I hope that one day, we could all be dead honest with each other and just be friends. I would like that. A lot. The first boy I loved and the last boy I will ever love.

“He was six,” Ty says randomly and then, “Anybody up for a cigarette?” He stands up quickly and moves out the front door. I follow close behind him and we sit together on the porch swing.

“Want to talk about it?” I say, wondering how the hell anybody could run over a kid with an SUV. His mother must've been either very self absorbed or very drunk. Despite the photos of cars Ty has in his apartment and the beautiful rings, I decide then and there that I'm probably going to hate his mother as much as I hate mine.

“Nope,” he says as he passes me a cig and we smoke in silence. Snow is starting to fall ever so gently from the sky, drifting down to the ground in powdery flakes that melt on contact, leaving the dirt driveway a mess of mud and slush. Neither of us is wearing shoes, and it's awfully cold outside, so Ty and I snuggle up and watch tendrils of smoke curl in the chilly air. “This is too fucking perfect to ruin.” I sigh and close my eyes, letting Ty hold me in an armful of butterflies. I've counted them all – there are thirty in total – and I'm working on memorizing each species, each color, each size. They're like freckles or something, just this other, different, unique bit of Ty McCabe that I have to know.

“When?” I ask him. “When are you gonna tell me?”

“Soon,” Ty promises, and I believe him because he hasn't given me reason to think otherwise. “When I'm ready, baby, you can cut me open and dig through what's left.” I almost tell him there's no need, that all I really need from him is his heart and that, I'm pretty sure, I already have.

So India goes to the store to pick up some stuff for this horribly ostentatious dinner that Beth is going to cook in honor of our family being whole once again while I sit in nervous anticipation at the bottom of the staircase, an unlit cigarette hanging out of my mouth, and a lump in my stomach. Things are going so well that I can't help but worry that Zella will change everything.

“She's really excited to see you, you know,” Noah tells me as he finally finds a moment of peace away from my sisters and takes off his winter coat, hanging it on a hook in the hallway. Beth has the heater up way too high, even for this weather, and Noah and I both have little beads of sweat on our foreheads. He sits down next to me and touches his fingers to the back of my hand. I should probably pull away, but I don't because I'm a coward. I never was before, but with Noah, I suddenly feel that way. It's not a good place to be.

“How do you know?” I ask him and then hold up a finger to stop him from answering. “No, wait. Let me guess. You guys are pen pals or something equally as disturbing.” Noah blinks his big blue eyes at me for a moment and finally laughs like he's just got the joke.

“Actually, sort of,” he says as he adjusts his sky blue T-shirt. It's got these words in Latin scribbled across it that I can barely read.
Amicitiae nostrae memoriam spero sempiternam fore
I think I know what it means, but I don't mention it because I'm afraid I might be wrong.
I hope that the memory of our friendship will be everlasting.
I pray to some blind eyed, shadow faced deity that Noah really believes that. I'd love to have him as a friend. “We e-mail sometimes.” He shrugs like it's not that big of a deal although I know it is. I can still read him. Noah Scott is like an open book. He isn't like Ty at all; Noah lets his emotions play across his face like a movie.

“You know,” I say as I put my hand over the top of his and squeeze it, more friendly than anything else. “I never did thank you.” He looks me and then runs his other hand through his blonde hair.

“For what?”

“For waiting around for me,” I tell him and before he can protest, I throw him a piece of his own poetry, give him something to think about. Or at least to dissuade him from trying to protest. We both know the truth, so there's no point in pretending otherwise. Besides, Ty is no poet. Noah is still my favorite manipulator of the English language. I pull my cigarette from my lips and hold it between my fingers. “
Buried by blood
,” I begin and Noah groans, pulling his hand away and putting it over his face. Normally he doesn't mind his stuff being thrown around, not even when it's bad, but this, this is the last poem in the Butterfly Series, and I think he's actually embarrassed to hear it aloud. It is sort of personal. “
Gasping;
As if air could be bought with wishes and prayers.
” I smile as Noah sighs and surprisingly, picks up the passage.

“
I am drowning; Here it is, my final plea
.” I chuckle and try to keep my voice steady as I continue. This poem, when I first read it, sent me spiraling into depression for days. Now, though, it doesn't seem so bad anymore. It gives Noah depth. Maybe, one day, he'll fall in love with another girl and she'll see that just as Ty sees my bad memories and my pain and my fear and loves that, she'll love his, too.

“
Just remember, I won't repeat, so pay attention; Write it down
.”

“
I am bleeding and in my own blood, I am drowning.
”

“
I didn't know how hard it would hit me when my lungs breathed it in.
”

“
I didn't know how sad I would feel as I watched my own vision, dimming.
”

“
I didn't realize how much I would miss you in that last moment and how much I would cry
.” We look at each other just as Ty appears at the top of the stairs. I hope he's not intimidated, but no, not Ty McCabe. Not by a long shot.

“
I cried and the tears mixed with the blood and I couldn't see them because red filled my vision and then I was blind and then I cried no more and then the bleeding stopped;
It stopped when my heart stopped; My heart; The one that was broken by you, could only have been broken by you, and I was happy because I could never bleed again.
”

Noah and I both spin around as Ty recites the final stanza of the poem without a hitch, without a single misplaced word. He must've found it in my suitcase and read it. That would be oh so typical Ty. I hope he doesn't mind that I brought them here with me. It just seemed appropriate.

“That's one sick ass piece of poetry,” Ty tells Noah and then he just turns around and walks away, disappearing into my bedroom to, hopefully, put on some kind of shirt. If he keeps walking around without one, one of my sisters may very well try and jump him. Or maybe I'm just projecting because that's what I want to do.

I look at Noah quickly, expecting him to be angry or sad or upset, but he's just smiling away like all is right with the world. He's too happy like that, Noah is.

“I like him,” he tells me with a smile that says he suspects how much Ty means to me. At first I think he's admitting defeat, getting ready to do the hard thing and announce to both of us that this will never work. “Too bad I'm going to have to kick his ass.” And then Noah leans over and presses the softest, lightest kiss to my lips before standing up and moving into the kitchen to help Beth.
Crap.
My stomach rolls over and I barely make it to the bathroom before I throw up. As soon as I'm done, I go outside and smoke like a chimney while I try to figure out what I'm going to do.

“Any sparkles or butterflies?” Ty asks, coming out the door in a tight as fuck red tee and baggy ass holey jeans tucked into his big, brown boots. His shirt says,
Can't Be Bothered,
but his dark hair is gelled and styled to perfection and his facial piercings are different, all small, silver studs, even his nose ring which has been replaced with a small bar. His rings are all silver now, too, without any gems other than the beautiful blue one I was admiring on the bus. “Any fireworks or explosions of light and sound?” Ty makes this stupid hand motion that reminds me of jazz hands. Ugh.

“He kissed me,” I respond automatically and Ty shrugs. He pauses at the edge of the porch and slides my cigarette out of my mouth, sticking it in between his own lips with a grin.

“And I sucked you off last night so screw him.”

“Ty, Jesus Christ!” I say, but I'm glad he's not mad.

“You ready to say it yet?” he asks me as a car turns down the driveway and my blood goes cold in my veins. Bitch-Never starts freaking out and comes running around the back of the barn at full speed like she's a guard dog or something. Could be one if she wanted. Noah was right: she bites. I have the marks to prove it.

“Say what?” I whisper, but I'm too distracted by my sister's car to say or do much of anything. The white sedan winds its way towards us slowly, crawling towards a conclusion, holding the last living member of my family that I need to make up with to move forward with my life. This has been a slow journey but a worthwhile one.

“Fuck Noah Scott,” Ty whispers into my ear. “Say it now or I'll make you scream it tonight.” I punch him in the arm as Zella comes to a stop awfully close to the porch steps. I want to indulge him but I can't, not right now. I need my mind wholly and completely focused on Ty McCabe when I say it. Luckily, he's not as easily offended as some. He gets me, as always.

I start to step forward and find that I'm down the porch stairs before I even realize that I've moved. Snow is still falling lightly from the gray sky, resting on my scalp like a halo or something. I brush flakes from my eyelashes as Zella climbs out of the car with a head of dyed brunette curls and a face that's red and soaked in tears. I don't, of course, know why she's crying, but some part of me hopes it's because she's happy to see me.

For once, I'm right.

“Never,” she says and then she's running and we're throwing ourselves in one another's arms. She squeezes the life out of me and whispers in my ear, “You were right.” And that is all I need to hear. I don't know how she knows I needed that or if Beth told her or what, and I don't give a shit. All I want to do right now is hold my sister tight and know that things will be okay. I was afraid of seeing her, but only because I didn't want to lose the progress I'd already made. Looks like I didn't need to be. Things are looking up. They might not be for long, but they are right here, right now, and I'm starting to understand that that's all I can ever ask for. “Oh my God, Never,” Zella says as she steps back and looks down.

I'm not wearing shoes and my feet are freezing in the icy slush of the driveway, but I don't care. The relief I'm starting to feel spread through my chest is enough to keep me warm. For now.

“Let's go inside,” she says with a shiver, catching Ty with her eye as she passes. She tosses me a,
You will tell me about this man or you will die,
look and drags me inside. When she sees Noah, she squeals and the two of them hug tight, like the oldest of friends. “It's like the good ol' days,” she says to me as she looks at Noah and I standing next to each other. “I always thought you guys made the cutest couple.”

Ah. Noah and I exchange a look and then I exchange one with Ty who just smiles. He isn't worried. Things get awkward for a second, but luckily I find that I'm easily able to distract Zella by discussing her hair which she says is the worst dye job she's ever gotten, but seems quite proud of.

“I don't see why you two had to dye your hair,” Beth tells us as she motions for us all to cluster into the teeny little kitchen that was never meant for a gathering such as this, but which accommodates us all without complaint. Things are tight but cozy. It's a strange feeling but a pleasant one.

The four little girls get chairs and the rest of us stand. People are talking all around me, gesturing, firing off questions that hit the tip of their tongues and disappear into this mass of bodies and voices and feelings that swirl like leaves in the wind and just when I think it's all too overwhelming to take in, too much to absorb all at once, Ty is there and squeezing my hand with his. My anxiety dissipates in a blip and is gone in a flash, giving me a chance to look at Zella who's planning on becoming the 'world's best damn defense lawyer' and Beth who is such a mom now that it's almost comical; there's Jade who's sad but not lost, India who sings like a siren, and Lettie who sketches when she thinks nobody is looking. There's Lorri, the little girl with big dreams of Broadway, and Darla who will know me throughout her life without a single gap, who will be Maple's big sister instead of her aunt. And then there's me, Never Nicholas Ross who was once Never Fontaine Regali, who doesn't know what she wants to do, but who's in love with a guy named Tyson McCabe that has a past he won't speak of and hands that can play my body like an instrument.

Things are good. Almost, dare I say, perfect. I even smile when Beth hands me a bowl of hot, peeled potatoes and says, “Mash.”

“I hate mashed potatoes,” I tell her, but I do it anyway, if only because it feels good to participate in this group mentality we have going on. Zella smiles at me from across the kitchen and I know that as soon as we get time alone, I'm going to tell her my story, my whole story. I don't know why, but something about her makes me want to spill my secrets. She's going to be a damn good lawyer.

“Never and I are guests, we shouldn't have to prepare anything. We should be catching up on the couch with a couple of beers.”

“Not at nineteen you're not,” Beth says with a tight-lipped smile. “Not on my watch.”

“Alcohol Nazi,” Zella says affectionately. “You do know that I drink at school, right?”

“Sorry, Zella,” Beth says as she sets a plate of overcooked pasta on the table. “That's just the way it's going to be. Period.” I laugh, they all do, but then I get caught on a word, the one that means end of sentence and woman's menstrual cycle in three tiny syllables.

Period. Wait. Shit.