The Year I Stopped Being Invisible - 17. Chapter 17

The conversation with Tynah didn't go as badly as I had expected. She was certainly not thrilled with my actions -- she had raised a son, Jack, seventeen years my senior -- who had been in trouble with the law during his adolescence as well. I didn't know much about it then, but I later learned that he had stolen a car and gone to jail, where he had attempted to hang himself with his own belt.

Jack was in the military now, like his sister -- my ex-mother -- and I hadn't seen him since I was about nine years old, but I knew that Rex didn't like him, and I also knew that Tynah was seeing the past flash before her eyes as she heard about what had happened at Polk High that
morning. I could see the color rising in her cheeks as Rex and I delivered the news, and I could tell that she was just about to explode when Rex spoke up.

"Rick," he said, "why don't you run your bike to the store and get us some milk? I need to talk to your mother for a while."

I wordlessly took my cue and bolted to the garage, then zoomed away down the street to the H.E.B. supermarket. By the time I returned, Tynah was a lot calmer, although dinner was a bit tense (a bit!) and she hadn't spoken a word to me. It wasn't until Rex had disappeared into the garage and I was clearing the table to do dishes that I heard her voice from the La-Z-Boy.

"I don't like what you did," she began.

I could tell, as tears began to well in my eyes, that this was something of an understatement. I couldn't go in the living room and face her, so I stood by the kitchen sink, watching Foxy romp around the backyard.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly.

"But Rex explained to me why you did it, and I think you were very brave to help your friend against that bully. I'll tell you this, though. You had better thank your lucky stars that Sly Maxwell was there to keep the police from being brought in. I've raised one felon, and I don't intend to raise another. Heretofore, you go tell a teacher or a vice-principal what's happening, and I don't want to ever hear about you getting in another fight."

"Yes, ma'am," I choked out between sobs.

"You will serve out your suspension here doing yard work and cleaning the house. And you will keep up with your homework. Are we understood?"

"Yes," I murmured.

"Yes, what?" she asked in her mock-happy singsong voice.

"Yes, ma'am." I replied.

"Good," she said, apparently satisfied. "Now you can finish the dishes and then you can be excused."

"I love you, Tynah," I said.

"I love you too, honey," she replied reassuringly.

I felt like shit.

* * * * *

That night, I fielded phone calls from the following people: Linda, Kathy, Jeff, Carter, Mr. McRory, David Wurtzel, Kirsten, and Sly Maxwell. I hung up on Kirsten when she informed me of how much Kevin's friends were waiting to get me alone off school grounds.

Linda showed concern and assured me that we could do our Duet at the next IQT, Kathy showed some remorse and seemed disturbingly interested in me again, Jeff was tickled pink, Carter was admiring, Mr. McRory was pissed off about the Chamberlain meet, Sly huskily thanked me for helping his son and told me he always had my back, and David was...well, I didn't really know David except in passing, but appreciated his support.

After all the phone calls were done, Rex and Foxy bedded down on the living room floor as usual, and Tynah donned her ever-present caftan and went off to bed. I sat alone on the darkened patio for a long time, running my fingers along the rough, stained wood of the picnic table and trying to gather up the courage to open the envelope which sat on its well-aged surface in front of me.

Finally, I opened it, and this is what it said:

Don't love me.

The three words hit me like a roundhouse punch to the soul.

Don't love me.

That was it. No "Dear Rick," no explanation, no recrimination, just "Don't love me." Not even a signature.

I sat there in the dark, and I didn't cry. I was just too stunned. I kept looking at the letter, if you could call it a letter, and reading those three words over and over again, shocked by the blunt finality of them.

Don't love me.

Finally, the analytical part of my mind kicked in. Like everything else that Taine said, these three words by themselves were cryptic. Open to interpretation. What did that mean? Did it mean that he never wanted to speak to me again? Did it mean "don't love me because I don't love you and you'll get hurt"? Did it mean "I'll be your friend, but don't love me"? Did it mean "don't love me because I don't think I'm worth it"? Or, knowing Taine, did it just mean "don't love me" because of his byzantine way of avoiding emotion of any kind?

All of these interpretations were slightly different, and varied in their degrees of meaning, impact and finality. I wasn't sure if my analysis of each, which would consume the greater part of the next 36 hours, was a valid intellectual pursuit or just my half-assed, self-justifying way of dealing with what -- to anyone more honest with themselves -- was a brutally simple and obvious rejection.

I didn't know, but I tossed and turned in bed all night trying to figure it out.

* * * * *

I trimmed the hedges on Tuesday, swept the patio and cleaned the bathrooms. This suspension was going to involve a lot of work, and I still felt really bad about the tournament and causing Linda to have to sign up for Poetry Reading -- which didn't qualify for the State tournament as it wasn't an officially sanctioned event -- but I had reconciled myself to the fact that I had done it for my angel, and his physical safety was worth it.

I hoped that he would be safe at school this week, and I knew that Sly had made Coach Gorman promise that there would be no retaliation for what I'd done to his son, but I also knew how loyal and vengeful Kevin's teammates could be, and I was scared for Taine. Kirsten's phone call last night hadn't set my mind at ease one bit, either.

I was worried.

After my first day of chores had been completed and dinner had been eaten, I was laying in bed reading a horror-movie magazine called Fangoria with Foxy curled up next to me. Tynah and Rex had gone over to visit their old friends the Velazquez family across town, and I didn't expect them back until very late in the evening.

What I also didn't expect was the ringing doorbell at around 8 pm.

My eyes narrowed and I set down the magazine, adrenaline beginning to pump through my system. What if Kevin's friends -- whom Kirsten had told me were out for my blood -- had decided to pay me an evening visit? They could probably tell I was alone in the house, as they would know that 1) I was grounded, and 2) all the lights were off in the front rooms at 8:00.

Foxy's head raised in alarm and he began barking, pouncing from the bed and rushing down the hall to the front door. I followed him, all of my defensive instincts raised. I opened the front closet in the parlor, extracting a heavy pipe-wrench from Rex's toolbox on the closet floor.

Having spent much of my life in apartments, I kept forgetting that we didn't have a peep-hole in the front door, and I cursed whoever had decided that houses didn't need them.

Okay, I thought, we'll have to do this the hard way. I raised the wrench over my head with my right hand, so that it was behind the door when I opened it with my left.

There before me, in his usual cap, army jacket, cargo pants and Jegs, stood Taine Maxwell.

I guess the upraised wrench wasn't hidden behind the door as well as I thought, because the brim lifted and the eyes widened momentarily before he figured it out.

"Expecting company?" he said with a smirk.

* * * * *

When the wrench had been put away and I had recovered my senses enough to get Taine in the house and seated on the living room couch, I noticed that he had brought a thin cardboard folder with him. Inside were my assignments for all my classes for the week.

He had gone to all my teachers that day and written each schedule carefully in that precise cursive scrawl. I was deeply touched by his efforts, but I was also -- in light of the three-word note which he had written me the day before -- very confused.

I got Taine a soda from the fridge and led him back to my room, where Foxy soon joined us on the bed, wagging his tail happily. As Taine sipped his soda and absently stroked my appreciative dog with his other hand, I briefly glanced at the list of assignments, thanking him profusely. After a moment, I set the folder aside and studied him.

He looked as nervous as I felt. As he removed his cap and set it next to him on the bed, neither of us speaking, I didn't know quite what to say. Obviously, he didn't either, so we just sat there for a time, looking at each other wordlessly.

As soon as the cap came off, however, my nervousness was melted by the sight of his beautiful, smooth and angelic face. I felt my eyes mist up slightly just at the pure, radiant sight of him. My Babes. He had come back to me. And he had gathered my assignments for me all day, which must have meant that he was thinking about me all day. I had certainly been thinking about him.

He regarded me for a few moments longer, and I fell in love with him all over again. His face and eyes were so trusting, so open, so utterly without guile or deception. He really was too pure for this world. He was also so fragile, though. So nervous. I felt as if I spoke a word, he would break and flee once more. Fortunately, he spoke first.

"That was really cool," he said. "What you did for me yesterday. Thanks."

I smiled. "Don't mention it. I couldn't let him hurt you."

Taine looked down at his perfect hands, pulling nervously at his long, graceful fingers. He kicked off his shoes and drew himself up to sit cross-legged on the bed opposite me, still looking downward.

"Well, you didn't have to do that," he said softly, a slight smile on the perfect cupid's bow of his lips. "I'm glad you didn't get arrested."

"Me too," I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm an actor, not a convict."

"You're gonna miss the tournament, huh?" He sounded hurt, as if it had been his fault.

"Yeah, I don't care," I said easily, figuring a little white lie was okay in the bigger picture. "There's seven more. That's plenty of emoting across the state. Besides, you're worth it."

I paused, looking at him carefully, before taking a gamble. "Thanks for answering my note."

Taine, his eyes downcast, seemed to flinch slightly, and I wondered if I had gone too far too soon. He spooked easily, like a bunny in the woods, and I didn't want to chase him off again.

He didn't respond for a long time, and I became lost in the sight of his soft, silky brown hair, its blond highlights catching the warm glow from the lamp on my nightstand. How I wanted to run my fingers through that hair, hold him in my arms and never let him go. To never let anything hurt this sweet, heartbreakingly good, decent and fragile boy ever again.

He adjusted himself on the bed, and I noticed the delicate curve of his slender, pale neck as he hunched forward slightly, the army jacket hanging loosely around his frail shoulders. He pulled it around himself more tightly, and I knew that it wasn't because he was cold. He needed protective armor around him for what he was going to say next.

At long last, Taine cleared his throat, glanced up at me for a split second, and cast his eyes downward again, speaking to his adorably cute, white, tubesock-clad bunny feet rather than to me.

"About that note," he said softly. "I need you to understand...I don't want you to..."

He stopped, seemingly at a loss for words. I had come to realize that this was a common condition for Taine, as the speed of his thoughts, the complexity of his feelings, often outmatched his ability to articulate them in a way which satisfied their true depth and layering within his amazing mind. He exhaled with what seemed to be immense frustration at the inadequacies of the English language to simply communicate basic emotional truths.

I hung on his every breath, his every slight motion as he began again.

"I need to explain it to you," he said, looking at me for confirmation.

I nodded silently, and leaned forward to listen, my heart pounding.