Blessed Tragedy(24)

Chapter Twelve



Despite my best efforts, which I have to admit weren't all that great in my inebriated state, to tell Mike we should leave since my cover was blown and there was no way I was staying in their little competition, I was still planted firmly on the cracked vinyl barstool. Garrett apparently thought it was a great idea to keep me there as well since he was the designated beer bitch for the night and made sure my glass was never empty.

With every round he went to the bar to buy, Garrett seemed to get a little friendlier. I'm pretty sure that given four or five more rounds, he would have wound up sitting directly on my lap. The worst part was I didn't hate it. The me I knew just a few months earlier was the master at holding a grudge. We had our fair share of history, and we didn't exactly part on good terms the day we graduated.

He was the only friend who knew my plans to leave town as soon as my graduation party wound down. I didn't even plan to stay long enough for everyone to leave; just long enough that my absence wouldn't be noticed before I could get a head start. And him knowing meant there was one person too many apprised of my plans.

That morning, as we listened to the principal drone on about what a huge day this would be in our lives, Garrett tried to talk me out of leaving. He was the first of many people in the years that followed to tell me what a selfish person I was.

Apparently, now that I was living the life I dreamed of, he changed his mind about that. Or maybe not. Maybe now I was just the selfish bitch who had the cajones to go after what she wanted. I swore I would never forgive him for those words as I slammed the door on my Malibu and peeled out of the driveway.

“Nickel for your thoughts?” Garrett said, poking me in the shoulder after setting yet another beer on the table in front of me.

“I'm pretty sure that's not the way the saying goes,” I laughed, pulled back to the present by his words.

“No, but I know that, no matter what you are, cheap isn't one of them. I want to know bad enough that I'm willing to dig out a nickel.” He sat down next to me, leaning in so he was dangerously close to invading my personal bubble.

“Just thinkin',” I said, hoping he'd get the hint I wasn't in a mood to talk. If there's one thing, besides karaoke, that doesn't mix well with alcohol, it's reminiscing about the past. There's nothing you can do to change it and alcohol has a tendency to cast a rosy glow over things that have happened.

“About?” Garrett obviously wasn't going to let it go. I needed to figure out how much to give him so he'd shut up and let it rest.

“Graduation day.” I didn't look at him. I couldn't. Looking someone in the eye when I was uncertain what I would see there was something I didn't know if I would ever be able to do. The eyes tell too much. I wasn't sure if it was his eyes or my own I was worried about.

“And?” Either he was playing dumb or he didn't remember and that pissed me off.

“What do you mean, 'and?',” I asked, turning to him with a dumbfounded look on my face. “We weren't exactly speaking to one another when I left. And now, here you are, pretending like nothing happened. I seem to remember you saying something to the effect that I'm a selfish bitch who won't realize what she's thrown away until it's too late. That I was giving up on everyone, that I was better than whatever my misguided dreams told me I was.” Garrett seemed to be slinking away from me, obviously not expecting this conversation. “So, what's changed? Is it all better in your eyes now that I've made a name for myself? Because, I have to tell you, I never forgot what you said. Your voice, the look on your face, you standing in the middle of the road when I left, it's all been replaying in my mind for the past six years.”

Garrett ran his fingers through his shaggy brown hair, suddenly unwilling to make eye contact with me. “Look, Maddie...I can't take back what I said, and part of me meant every word of it.”

My eyes grew wide at his confession. I was wrong, he had much bigger balls than I had, sitting next to me admitting he meant to say those things to me. I took a draw from my beer, willing him to continue, trying to remember we'd once been friends.

“It hurt like hell knowing you were leaving everyone behind. I hated you for leaving me behind. But there was also part of me that hated myself for not being strong enough to do the same thing. Do you really think my dream gig is taking over my old man's slot as the high school band director?”

I laughed, remembering all the times we picked on Garrett's dad. To say he was passionate about enriching the musicality of young minds, as he put it, was an understatement. To him, music was a way of life. Unfortunately, part of that way of life drove him to envision a legacy of Dietrich men teaching the next generation of musicians.

“So that made it okay for you to pulverize me before I left? Dude, that's twisted. Even for you.” Garrett was right; he never would have gone against his parents' wishes, no matter what the reason. It was one of the reasons we hadn't worked out as a couple. I may not have known a lot about men or what I wanted, but I knew

I wouldn't be happy with someone who was so willing to be a doormat.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He shrugged, lifting his head slightly to see the look on my face. “Any chance we can put that behind us? It's pretty apparent you did what was best for you, so it's a good thing you didn't listen to me.”

“It's all good, man. I think we both said some shit that we wish we could take back. We can't, so now it's time to move on,” I said, pushing myself away from the table.

Yes, moving on. That's exactly what I needed to do. This odd attraction I was starting to feel towards Garrett was dangerous. Not only was I now, for the first time since high school, in a relationship, I was leaving soon and needed to distance myself from anything that could pull my focus away from Blessed Tragedy.

As I tried to slide between Garrett and the person sitting behind him, I felt his hand wrap around my arm. “So, that's it? With one exception, we've been friends for almost twenty years but you're going to hold onto shit I said when I was a stupid ass kid?”

No, that's not what I wanted to do at all but it's what I needed to do. At least for the night. I squeezed his hand as I pulled it away from my arm and walked out without saying another word.

My body was sore all day Sunday. Between drinking my weight in beer and stumbling the mile and a half home, I hurt in places I didn't know could hurt. But the worst pain I felt was in my chest.

I hated walking away from Garrett, no matter how good I was getting at doing it. We'd been friends from kindergarten on and I'd spent the better part of half of the time we'd known each other walking away from him. It never got easier.

Allowing that guilt to creep into my head led to feeling like I was betraying Colton by talking to Garrett. Being drunk had never been a viable excuse in my opinion and the thoughts I'd had at the bar definitely weren't all platonic. I knew the right thing to do was call Colton and let him know about the talk I had with Garrett, if for no other reason than to ease my own mind, but I didn't want him freaking out on me about it while we were over a thousand miles apart. That wouldn't do anyone any good.

Instead, I sat in my room and festered much of the day. I felt bad about hiding out since Mike had come over early in the day to spend some time with me but I needed to think. By the time I made my way downstairs to help Mike make dinner, I wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone or anything.

“Did something happen last night?” Mike asked as we danced around each other in the kitchen preparing spaghetti and meatballs.

“Nope.” How was I supposed to explain to Mike everything that had gone on between me and Garrett over the years? For one thing, I think we'd all decided it was for the best if no one brought up my time away and telling Mike would require venturing into that territory.

“Bullshit,” Mike said, leaning over the prep island. “You stormed out last night and you're pissy today. Now, either you're not telling me something about you and Garrett or something else is going on. Are you pissed about Matt?”

“It's nothing, Mike. Please, let's just drop it. Matt's going to be here soon and I don't need to listen to him bitch if dinner's not ready. We're talking to Dad tonight, right?”

While Mike had originally been hesitant to confront Dad about the possibility anything was going on with his health, spending the entire day watching him changed his mind. He agreed with my observations and didn't want to waste any time. To make matters worse, Dad was still in a place where he was questioning his ability to go on without Mom in his life.

For all of our family's quirks, the one thing no one could question was the love my parents shared for one another. They'd been high school sweethearts, married the summer after they graduated high school. When she passed away, they'd been married for just shy of forty years. It's understandable that he couldn't fathom a life without her. Their love was the type everyone should pray they find in life.