The Taming (22 page)

Katie fixed us a coffee while I worked hard at fighting back the tears, trying to regain some control. I managed to stifle them back to a sniffle but I still couldn’t stop them altogether. Strange, if I’d known that tears would have gotten me up here I would have tried to fake them. But there was nothing fake about this. They were real and painful and came not so much from my eyes as from my gut. I felt awful, and not just for what I’d done to Katie—the thought of not seeing her again, of her not wanting to be with me, of her not loving me was more than I could bear to think about. I could feel the tears starting to overwhelm me again. I couldn’t let that happen.

I thought about what my father would have said if he’d seen me bawling like a baby. I didn’t need to think very long or very hard to come up with the insults he would have tossed at me—
baby, little girl, no son of mine, acting like your mother
.

I remembered the first time he’d hurled that stuff at me, when Olivia, my dog, died. She was older than God, but I didn’t know that. All I knew was that I loved her more than anything and anybody, and she was dead. I could hear my father’s clipped, annoyed voice, telling me that he’d hoped for “a
son, not a daughter
,” that I was “too
old to be such a suck
,” that he was “
totally ashamed of me
.” I couldn’t have been more than five. Maybe if I had known she was dying, if I could have prepared myself, maybe I could have handled it better, not disappointed him so much or … I never cried in front of him again. Even with all that trouble at St. Anthony’s Prep. Not a tear.

“Here,” Katie said as she handed me a cup of coffee.

I took a big sip. It was hot and sweet and the warmth seemed to melt away the knot that was in my stomach.

“Thanks … thanks … so much,” I said.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“You’re sorry? You have nothing to be sorry about. It was all me. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just … just so … so scared,” I said.

“Scared of what?”

“Of losing you. That you were going to leave me the way that I’ve been left—” I stopped myself, but not in time. I’d said more than I should have. I couldn’t believe that I’d blurted that out.

“I’m not leaving you. We’ll work this out, Evan, but not now.” She stood up. “Now, I’m going to shower and change, and then you’re going to drop me off at the bakery. I’ll only be an hour late if you drive.”

I should have been happy. I should have been ecstatic. I hadn’t blown it. But something wasn’t right. We were still together, but somehow, something was different about her, about me, about us.

I sat there, me looking up and her standing above me, looking down at me, and there was something in her eyes. Instead of a look of adoration, there was pity. And in that instant I realized that I’d made a mistake. I shouldn’t have come back, I shouldn’t have apologized, I shouldn’t have been there. I should have stayed in control. In every relationship there was always somebody who was in charge, somebody with the upper hand, somebody running the show. I’d have to fix that, and fix it soon. My father would have known what to do. But right then and there, I swallowed and looked up at her mascara-stained face.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll drive you.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I
picked up the phone and quickly put it back down as if it was dangerous. It
was
dangerous. It was important that I not call her, that she call me first. During the day it had been easy for us not to talk because she was doing a double shift and couldn’t use her phone. But now … she was off work and either heading home or heading someplace else.

I’d thought about being there outside the employee entrance of the bakery, waiting, when she got off work. I’d even fantasized about having some flowers for her. I could just picture how happy that would have made her—she really was beautiful when she smiled. But I didn’t go, I hadn’t done it. I couldn’t go there. That would have been even more dangerous than a phone call.

Driving her home would have been a mistake. Being at the controls of the car wasn’t the same as being in control. I would have been nothing more than her
chauffeur
. I might as well have bought myself a little cap and stood there to open the back door for her.

I was
nobody’s
servant, and there was no way that she could tell me what to … okay, just settle down. She wasn’t asking me to be her servant. She wasn’t asking me to pick her up and drive her anyplace. Katie was always just grateful when I did anything for her, but this was something I wasn’t going to do.

If I had picked her up it would have been just like admitting, again, that I was wrong to have left her at the side of the road in the rain. Okay, maybe it wasn’t something that I was proud of, but it wasn’t like I’d been the one to start it. She’d even admitted that she had been flirting. I
never
flirted around her. I’d never cheated on her. And it wasn’t like I couldn’t have. I could have had any girl in that whole school, any time, but I hadn’t. At least, not yet.

I picked up my phone. I didn’t have anybody’s number, but it wouldn’t be hard to find some. I knew last names, and Melody had even mentioned her street name to me. It would have been a simple matter to call directory assistance and get her phone number. I did have Danny’s number—I could have just called him and asked him for a couple of numbers. He’d gladly have passed them over. After all, he did owe me. Without that car—without my help—he would have been dead before he even started with Brittney. He
definitely
owed me.

Who knew, maybe Brittney would just hook me up with one of her friends, and I wouldn’t even have to make a phone call. It could be all sort of innocent and … it didn’t matter if it started innocently. No, I couldn’t do that, everybody would know soon enough. Between tweeting, Facebook, cameras and cellphones it would be headline news at school by noon the next day. I wanted to
change
the dynamics of my relationship with Katie, not
end
the relationship.

Of course, if that did happen it wouldn’t take me long to find somebody new. I’d
win
the breakup, no question. I’d be dating somebody else within a day or two, walking around the school with a little bit of arm candy, while she’d be huddled with her loser friends. She’d be miserable. Lisa would probably be happy, though. Not only would she turn out to be “right” about me, but the way would be clear for her to finally work up the nerve to put a move on Katie. That wouldn’t matter to me. I’d move on, quickly, find somebody better and … I didn’t want anybody else. I just wanted Katie. No, not wanted … needed.

I went to put down the phone again and then hesitated. I didn’t want to be sitting here, by myself, waiting for her to call. I wasn’t some
girl
.

I punched in the number—
Danny’s
number. It clicked, rang and then—

“Hey, Evan, what’s happening?”

“Hey, Danny. Not much, just wondering what you’re up to.”

“Trouble, but not serious trouble.”

I heard a girl’s voice in the background, giggling at his lame little joke. It sounded like Brittney.

“Do you want to do something tonight?” I asked.

“I’m afraid I have my hands a little full … well, at least I hope they’ll be a little full,” he said.

“That’s disgusting!” I heard Brittney shout, and then they both started to laugh.

“It does sound like you’re busy,” I said.

“Maybe we could double. Me and Brittney and you and Katie,” he suggested.

“I’m not even going to
call
her tonight,” I said. “A man needs some space.”

“Gutsy move. Maybe not too bright, but gutsy, I’ll give you that much,” Danny replied.

“No guts, no glory. Besides, some of us are whipped and some of us are in charge,” I said.

“I hear ya,” he said. “Although I’d rather be happy than in charge.”

I heard slobbery kissing sounds. I was annoyed and a bit jealous all at once, but I shouldn’t have been. Let him have his
little
relationship. I knew I could have had Brittney myself, if I’d wanted to. Could have her even now.

“Okay, you have yourself a good night,” I said.

“Counting on it. Give me a call tomorrow and maybe we can hang.”

“Definitely,” I said, but I didn’t mean it. “Later.”

I hung up. There was no way I was going to call him tomorrow. I’d given him a chance, and if he’d been a real friend he would have … did I have a
real
friend? Was
I
a real friend to anybody? Even the people I hung out with from my old school really weren’t friends. There were some people I could call to go out someplace with, but there was nobody I could talk to, nobody I could confide in and, more important, nobody I could trust. And tonight there wasn’t even anybody here I could pretend was somebody I could talk to. My mother was at some sort of charity gathering and my father … well, he could have been anywhere. I was just grateful he was somewhere else.

Katie’s mother was gone for the weekend again, but at least she had those two freaks, Lisa and Travis. Even if I didn’t call she could still spend the evening with them. She could talk to them. Me, I had nobody. Nobody except Katie.

Again, the urge to call her resurfaced, and this time it was even stronger. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to be with her—talk to her, spend time with her—but I couldn’t. That would have tipped the balance of power even farther in the wrong direction. Tomorrow, I’d give her a call, maybe even offer to take her out for a drive or a coffee. On my terms. But not tonight. Tonight, there would be no contact, no Katie. But then again, just because I wasn’t going to be with Katie, that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be with me.

I started off for my bedroom but spun around and headed to my father’s liquor cabinet. I grabbed a bottle of vodka—one of so many that he wouldn’t even notice.

I uncapped it and took a big swig. It burned, but that burning felt good, like it was cleansing me, scouring away my doubts. I took another big hit and settled in at the desk in my room. My computer was already on and I clicked through the files until I found the ones I was looking for—the pictures of Katie.

The first pictures made me smile. She was in those new clothes, looking so beautiful, but so innocent and so happy at the same time. Part of her beauty was that she didn’t even know how beautiful she was.

I slowly scrolled through the pictures. With each one there was a little less clothing. But there was also a little less innocence, a little less joy in her expression. How could I have done that to her? How could I have taken that away?

There was an obvious answer. I could delete them. Take them off my computer the way I’d taken them off my phone, and she’d never know that I’d only told her half the truth when I’d said they were gone. It was such a simple solution, it would be done in seconds.

I quickly highlighted all the images except the first picture. Without stopping to think I hit delete and they all vanished. They were gone, except that one image. I was left with the one picture of Katie happy, smiling at me, almost as if she was telling me how pleased she was with what I’d done.

Now all I had to do was go to the Trash and empty it and they’d be gone forever. Gone … along with the proof I’d need if she ever accused me of doing anything against her will … Wait, I also had the recording. That would be my protection. Not that I’d ever need that from Katie. She’d never do that to me. Or would she?

Forget about the proof. If those pictures disappeared I’d lose even more. They were, in the end, my final power over her. They could be a threat, or at least a way of getting back at her if she ever did dump me. As long as I had the photos, I’d have the ultimate control, the ultimate say. She could end the relationship, but I could decide what happened after that.

I had to think more before I emptied the Trash. I just wished it could be that easy to get rid of all the trash in my life. I took another big slug from the bottle and walked away, leaving my computer behind.

Chapter Thirty-Eight