Can't Go Without Page 9

  I’ve made sure to look anywhere and everywhere—other than the fourth row, third person over. Nothing good will come of making eye contact again with Tristan, especially here. I’ll talk to him at the reception. I’ll confront this like Samuel suggested at the reception.

  When the preacher asks for the rings, Adrian turns to Rory. Rory searches for the ring as panic strikes his face. Adrian’s face falls just as Rory locates the ring in his inside breast pocket. Rory pulls it out like it’s the finale of a magician’s final trick.

  Everyone chuckles as Kathryn rolls her eyes, and Sydney glares at Rory. Adrian smiles, hugs him quickly with a pound on his back, and takes the ring. Not being able to help myself, I glance at the fourth row. Tristan drops his head and then looks to the window, altogether avoiding the scene at the altar.

  Inexplicably, my heart lurches as I recall how highly Tristan thinks of his brother. Just after one night of talking, I know how hard it has to be for him to watch Rory stand up for his brother. I can’t help but blame myself for coming between them. Maybe if I hadn’t concocted this whole scheme, Tristan would be handing the ring to Adrian right now. But if I hadn’t however, Adrian wouldn’t have moved here and met Kathryn either. Everything does happen for a reason, I guess. However, the thought does nothing for my remorseful conscience.

  The worst part of being at a wedding as an out-of-town attendee is waiting for the bride and groom to arrive at the reception. Samuel and I have walked around the Oasis about a hundred times, oohing and ahhing over every last flower and plant surrounding the waterfalls and ponds.

  I feel gluttonous chowing down on all the hors d’oeuvres, but being three glasses of Cabernet in, I’ve got to start focusing on filling my stomach. Red wine does something unnatural to me—makes me sexually uninhibited, verbally courageous, and emotionally heightened. Typically, I steer clear of it. However, Samuel’s been the bar gopher, filling me with more wine than I should partake in publicly. I guess Samuel’s planning a wild night in good old room 202 at the Carlson Chalet.

  Luckily, I haven’t crossed paths with Tristan yet. Hopefully, Kathryn and Adrian kept him with the bridal party for pictures. He deserves to be in those pictures, capturing this special day with is brother and his new sister-in-law. Having a sister-in-law is wonderful. Thank God, New Hampshire recognized the importance and necessity of same-sex marriages. If any couple should be allowed get married, it was Jill and Shayla. It was a stupid law anyway. A stupid law that were created by stupid ignorant assholes. So glad they all came to their damn senses.

  “Hi Leah,” a voice sounds behind me, sending shivers of fear and tension through me. “It’s good to see you again.”

  Taking a deep breath, grasping Samuel’s hand for support, I turn around. The eyes, they’re different, filled with apprehension, self-doubt. “I… I…” I’m speechless. The words won’t come. Samuel squeezes my hand, encouraging me to continue.

  Tristan continues, “You… you… look great. Your hair’s a little longer.”

  I feel the squeeze of my hand again, giving me the courage to speak. “Yeah, funny how hair can do that in two, three years.”

  “Touché,” Tristan says, a small smile forming on the corners of his mouth. “I just wanted to… to… tell you that I’m really—”

  “Ya know what? We’re good. It’s all fine,” I mumble, starting to walk away.

  Tristan places his hand on my upper arm, stopping me from my retreat. “Leah please, let me just say what I need to say. Okay?” I look in his eyes; they’re so different. They used to be so full of life, so captivating. Glancing at Samuel, he nods slightly at me. Tristan takes a breath and says, “What went down that night shouldn’t have happened. I never should’ve… should’ve…”

  Tristan searches for the words as he runs his hands through his hair. It’s longer than I’ve ever seen it—more unkempt than I’ve ever seen too. “I just should’ve stay away. I regret it all—all of it—everything. I’m sorry, Leah, okay?”

  Regrets it? All of it? The words surround me, and constrict me, cutting off my air supply. “Yeah, okay, that’s… that’s…” I can’t say anymore. I turn and run for the door. Everything involving that night is a fucking mess. How could I have let it come to this? How did I do what I did and think it would ever be okay? I’m more delusional than I ever thought before.

  “Leah! Wait,” I say, beginning to follow her.

  “I think you’ve said and done enough,” a voice comes from behind me at the same time a surge of pain encircles my arm.

  Oh Hell no. This is exactly what I’ve been needing—a little outlet for my aggression and anger. “Excuse me?” I say, shrugging his grip from my arm. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Samuel, Leah’s boyfriend,” he answers smugly.

  Dude, no way. This guy looks like something out of a bad 80s B-movie. I swear I saw him in some fluorescent ski suit in one of those unwatchable movies where the “supposed stud” gets shown up by the geek. I’d like to shove his face in the snow and piss on his head.

  “Well Sam, I got—”

  “Samuel,” he corrects.

  “Sure, Sam-MULE, jackass, if you ever touch me again, it’ll be the last time that hand ever touches anything, ya got me?” I ask, smiling as not to attract any bystanders.

  “Is that a threat?” Jackass says, squaring off his shoulders.

  “Uh, you bet your cheesy-ass spray tan it is, Jackass. It’s a threat, a promise, a warning, and my goddamn greatest joy.” I confirm, realizing that laying this fucker flat will only result in pissing off Adrian, Kathryn, Piper, and Leah. Leah. Fuck.

  “Whoa, whoa, Tristan stop! Where are you going?” Piper asks, blocking my exit, pushing on my chest.

  “I’m gonna go find Leah,” I admit, trying to get to the door. “Listen, Beyonce’s playing. You’re a ‘single lady.’ Go catch a bouquet or some shit like that,” I say, pointing to the dance floor, trying to maneuver around her.

  “Tristan! I don’t want a bouquet. Stop!” Piper says, following me out of the Oasis. “You can’t go talk to her. Let her go. It’s done. It’s over.”

  “Don’t you get it? I can’t. I haven’t been able to let this go for over two fucking years, Piper. I fucked up. I hurt her. I fucking destroyed someone that… someone that… fuck it. Just forget it,” I say, closing my eyes, erasing the memory of Leah’s beaten and bruised face.

  “Someone that what Tri-stand?” Piper asks, grabbing my hand, making me look at her. I shake my head, and she pulls on my hand. “Come on, Tristan, you know you can’t lie to me. We’ve got too much history. What is it?”

  “It’s nothing,” I say, heading for the half wall and sitting down.

  “Tristan, you’ve been a fucked up mess for three years. It’s hard to even look at you anymore. What’s going on?”

  “God Piper, I fucked up. I really fucked up, okay?”

  “We’ve established that. Now start talking,” she says, straddling the wall, hiking up her bridesmaid’s dress.

  “Always the beacon of femininity and sophistication,” I joke, laughing. “Mom would be so proud.”

  “In that case,” Piper says, leaning forward and farting. “How do you think she’d like that?”

  “Jesus Piper, what’d you eat?” Adrian says walking up behind her, waving his hand in the air, fanning it in front of his face.

  “The more appropriate question would be ‘what didn’t I eat… or drink?’ The list would be much shorter that way,” Piper confesses, scooting over for Adrian to sit down. “You’re just in time Adri-annie. Tristan was about to tell us why he’s so fucked up.”

  “Shit, my plane for Turks and Caicos takes off tomorrow at noon. Do you think we have time?” Adrian quips.

  “Fuck you,” I say, shaking my head. “Be careful. You’re a husband now. You’re talking for two.”

  “I’m not fucking pregnant, dude,” Adrian counters. “I don’t think or talk for Kathryn.”

  “You better not be thinkin
g or talking for me,” Kathryn says. “Am I interrupting something? Family pow-wow of sorts?”

  “If it’s a family pow-wow, then you should be here. You’re an O’Donnell now.” I say, liking the sound of it actually.

  The three of them start laughing and shaking their heads. “Actually no, she’s not an ‘O’Donnell’ at all,” Adrian says. I suddenly feel out of the loop, the odd man out.

  “Yeah Tristan, our brother isn’t an ‘O’Donnell’ anymore,” Piper says, laughing, wiping her eyes.

  “Fuck, did you change it to ‘Donley?’ Are you officially ‘Dre Donley’ now?” I ask, shocked as all Hell.

  Laughter erupts again, leaving me hanging. “Nope, he’s not ‘Dre Donley’ either,” Piper says, doubled over laughing. “You are so fucking whipped. I can’t even take it.”

  “Hey, that’s my husband you’re talking about. I think it’s wonderful… he’s wonderful,” Kathryn says, defending Adrian. “Here’s the story—”

  “Nah, I got this. I better get used to explaining it,” Adrian explains. “Alright, here’s the deal: Kathryn hates being called ‘Katie.’ She’s always hated it.”

  “Okay, so?” I say, not following.

  “Well, I knew that I didn’t want her to have the fucked up connection to the O’Donnell name,” Adrian says. I nod, understanding what he means by all that. Nobody should willingly become an O’Donnell.

  “So, I suggested we change both of our names to ‘Donley,’ thinking that would solve it all. For a while, she agreed,” he says, looking to Kathryn for confirmation. She nods, smiles, and sit down on his lap. “But after she thought about it for a while, she realized that her initials would be K.D. She’d be ‘Katie’ all over again.”

  Kathryn’s smile is huge; Piper cannot control her laughter any longer. Adrian drops his head and shakes it slowly. Finally catching on, I lose it, nearly pissing myself. “Awww Ade, you didn’t,” I say. “Oh Hell No. Where did I go wrong, baby bro? Where are your balls, man?”

  Kathryn speaks up, “I think it’s sweet. ‘Adrian Howell’ has a beautiful ring to it.” Kathryn swipes Adrian’s hair out of his eyes and kisses his nose.

  “You took your woman’s last name!” I bellow. “No way!”

  Piper says, “Oh it gets better. Howell isn’t even Kathryn’s real last name either. She’s actually ‘Kathryn McVay.’ Nobody’s using their own name around here anymore.”

  “McVay? Like the—”

  “Oklahoma bomber,” they all three say in unison.

  Watching the three of them fucking hurts. They’re a family. Adrian, Hell Dre, Kathryn and Piper are a family—a real family. They laugh together, finish each other’s sentences, hang out together, and just essentially like each other—for real. It’s not for show. It’s a bona fide family with all its quirks and confusing history.

  “So who caught the bouquet?” Piper asks, changing the subject.

  “Well, I threw it straight to Syd, but she batted it out of the way, hitting Lanette in the face with it. So, Lanette has it now.” Kathryn says.

  “Rory wouldn’t even come to the dance floor for the garter,” Dre adds. “Those two.”

  “I know, right.” Kathryn says, shaking her head.

  “Actually, I think we may have another ‘Syd and Rory’ on our hands,” Piper says. “Tri-stand was just about to tell me something epic before you guys got out here.”

  “What’s up T?” Adrian asks as Kathryn switches her position to look directly at me.

  “It’s about Leah,” Piper chimes in.

  “What about her?” Kathryn asks, nervously.

  “Hey listen T, I think you should just let it go, forget all about Leah and what’s happened between y’all,” Dre recommends.

  Hearing my brother say ‘y’all’ is just another reminder of how far apart we’ve become. The whole thing’s a bunch of shit. Adrian and I were as thick as thieves back in the day. But growing up, things just started to change. I went off to school. He went off to school. When Ade declared that he was pre-med, it was all over. I saw the chance to be my dad’s right-hand man and took it. Adrian was always the beloved, bleeding-heart, funny boy. I was the straight-laced, studious one. My dad lost all hope for Adrian and put all his hope in me. A lot of good that did.

  I didn’t start living the way I do now until I saw that my father expected it. My dad showed me the ropes, showed me how to play the game, how to schmooze the clients, make the deals, and bag the babes. I was a sponge, taking it all in and absorbing everything, forgetting the pain and disappointment I felt the day I realized that my dad was a cheating, womanizing lecher.

  I decided I’d rather be with him, like him, way more than I wanted to be against him, like Adrian was. It was easier to be beloved than it was to be despised. I took the easy way out, dragging along behind my father, holding on to his coattails for dear life. I waited for his praise, his admiration, like a puppy waits eagerly at the door for its family to return. Unlike that puppy, I never got what I wanted. My dad never showed up—never gave me what I wanted. All it did was make me bitter, angry, full of hate for all that I am. I’d never told anyone—never opened up to anyone—until that night. Until I told Leah.

  “Yeah, I agree with Dre,” Kathryn pipes up. “It’s all water under the bridge now.” The way she eyes Adrian tells me that they know something I don’t. I may be the odd man out, but I know when I’m being played. I’ve played enough people in my day to know when I’m the ball in someone else’s game.

  “See, I don’t.” Piper says, standing up. “What I think is that everyone should start telling the truth around here, because I can’t keep all the lies straight anymore.” Piper walks around to the other side of me, wraps her around my shoulder, and says, “Especially when those lies are hurting the people I love, people I owe my life to.” The last phrase makes me wince; the words cut deep.

  “Piper, you really don’t know—”

  “Believe me, I know plenty, and I think everyone should know everything,” she says, eyeing Kathryn and Dre.

  “Uhhh well, I’ve got a roomful of guests in there,” Kathryn says, standing and kissing Dre on the cheek. “I’m going to let the three of you hash all of this out on your own.” As she walks away, she says over her shoulder, “Truth is a scary thing. Sometimes, it’s harder to face than the lies.”

  “What’re you guys talking about?” I ask, looking around, not getting the punch line. “Who’s lying about what?”

  “I am,” A voice comes from behind the gazebo. Leah steps out into the light. “They’re trying to protect me.”

  “Lying about what?” I ask, hoping somebody will fucking shed some light on me.

  Piper pulls Adrian to the door; they’re scrambling away like kids caught smoking under the high school stadium bleachers during lunch. “See ya later, Tristan. Good seeing you again, Leah,” Piper calls.

  “Would you please tell me what’s going on?” I ask, walking up to her.

  Leah’s face is damp; she’s been crying. I wonder how many times I’ve made her cry. That’s hard to swallow really. I hate seeing women, anyone really, cry and crumble, but it never stops me from hurting them. I don’t get that. I hate causing anyone pain, but I’m usually the cause of many people’s suffering. I’d hate to know the truth. Kathryn’s right. The truth is brutal. We tell ourselves lies to protect us from the blows of reality.

  “I lied Tristan,” Leah says, her head falling in defeat. “About all of it.”

  “I don’t get it. Lied about what?”

  “The rape,” she says almost inaudibly. Leah lifts her head, looks me in the eye, and says, “You never raped me, Tristan.”

  There are moments in your life that you fear—absolutely dread with every ounce of your being—but once you experience them, they’re not as horrifying as you’d feared. This was not one of those moments. This was worse. Much much worse than I ever imagined.

  “You lied? You fucking lied?” Tristan hasn’t stopped pacing or repeating
those same words for the last five minutes.

  “Let me explain—”

  “Explain?” Tristan yells. “No, you don’t get to ‘explain’ anything. You lost that right when you fucking lied.” Still pacing, he says, “For three years, three years Leah, I thought I was the worst, the fucking scum of the damn earth. For three years, I’ve punished myself, my family, everyone… and for what? For what? To be a damn pawn in your little game with my brother?” As the words cross his lips, his fury ignites tenfold. Tristan runs away from me back into the Oasis.

  “Tristan! No!” I scream, following him franticly. “Stop! Wait!” I call after him, but I’m too late. I arrive just in time to see Tristan spin Adrian around and coldcock him right in the side of the jaw. The rage and fury behind the punch is so powerful, Dre nearly spins a full 360-degrees, before crumpling to the ground.

  “Get out!” Kathryn yells, dropping to the floor to tend to her husband. Tristan glares at them, at Piper, and then at me before leaving the reception. Kathryn looks at me, squints her eyes, and grits, “You too. Get out!”

  I walk out of the restaurant, knowing that the lives I ruined and the people I hurt will never compare to the remorseful suffering I’ll harbor with me for the rest of my life. Pain heals. Wounds mend. Guilt only grows and festers like a parasite, destroying its host entirely.

  “How’d it go?” Samuel asks, without looking up at me. Once he does, he adds, “That good, eh,” opening his arms for me. I walk across the hotel room and throw myself into his arms, needing the feel of his stability, his secure and safe arms. “But aren’t you just the slightest bit glad that it’s all finally over?”

  I nod dutifully against his chest, knowing that he couldn’t be more wrong. Hurting people is never over. It never just vanishes. Rainbows and unicorns don’t miraculously come out, letting you know everything is a wonderland of bliss and happiness. You just go on, ignoring the gnawing ache in your heart and soul, the ache you know your words and actions caused.