Tyrant(59)

“Sure,” I said.

“A kiss.”

“Tanner, I can’t—” I started to argue.

“Just one more, Ray. One last good-bye. Something to give me some closure.” Tanner looked at me with the big chestnut brown eyes I’d remembered from my dream. I knew why they were the only thing that stayed with me. They were so expressive they were practically arguing Tanner’s case for him, pleading with me to cut the kid a break and just kiss him already.

“One quick kiss,” I agreed, just wanting to get it over with. I could see his heart was breaking and being a spectator in that sport was adding another layer of guilt on top of what I was already feeling. I had the chance to offer him some closure so I took it.

“I never thought we’d have a last kiss,” Tanner commented. He took a step forward and cupped my face in his hands.

“You’re very persistent. And very bossy.”

It’s only Tanner. He just wants to say good-bye.

“They don’t call me The Tyrant for nothing,” Tanner said, leaning in so close, I could feel his cool breath against my cheeks before his lips softly brushed over mine.

Don’t trust The Tyrant. It was the very last thing Nikki had said to me when she’d come to my window.

And then it happened.

At first it was like lightening bolts going off in my brain. Sparks of light zapping on and off like a fluorescent office light struggling to turn on. Then, it was like my brain was a carnival where someone had located the power cord and plugged it back in turning the entire carnival on, lights, music, merry-go-round, and all.

My memory.

All of it.

Tanner pulled away as a very clear memory came bounding into my brain.

Of a very different Tanner.

Sammy refused to close his eyes until I read him at least three bedtime stories. He looks up at me with those puffy eyes, rimmed in red, and rubs them with the back of his hand. He is fighting a losing battle with the need for sleep, although he is putting in an admirable effort. After three stories and two songs, my boy has drifted off clutching his favorite blanket, the one with the pattern made entirely of the shadows of different types of motorcycles.

“Sweet dreams,” I say, kissing him on the forehead.

After closing his door as softly as I possibly can, I run into Nadine in the hallway. She is carrying a basket of already folded laundry. “Ray, why don’t you go see Tanner tonight? I’ll keep the baby monitor in my room. You two kids haven’t had any time together in a while. Might do you some good to remember that you are actually kids.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. She is right. I could use some time just being a kid. Between raising Samuel and worrying over Nikki there’s little time for much else. And I miss Tanner. We hadn’t just hung out in a while.

“Of course,” Nadine says. “Besides, once that boy’s asleep I could have Marti-Gras out in the hallway and he wouldn’t so much as roll over.” That is true. He often goes to sleep and wakes up in the same position.

I thank Nadine and change my clothes, taking extra time to make myself look more like a high school girl, and less like a mom who’d spend the afternoon trying to figure out how Samuel got melted crayons in his hair.

Tanner and I have plans this Saturday. He just moved into the pool house of his parents’ house. He is going to make me dinner. He promised me all the plans have been made. We haven’t had sex since we conceived Samuel. We are too young, and our lives have become so complicated, that we’d agreed to wait. But I am finally ready and Saturday has been chosen as the day.

But on the walk to Tanner’s house, I change my mind.

Tonight is as good a night as any.

I call Tanner, but there is no answer. I send him a text, but he doesn’t respond. When I get closer to his house I notice the light is on in the pool house. I smile. Maybe he fell asleep studying. I am planning how I could crawl into his bed and snuggle up next to him when I hear a voice.

An angry voice.

“What the f*ck did I tell you about going to her?” Tanner asks. I’ve never heard him raise his voice, and at first I don’t think it’s him. Creeping over to the side of the house, I crouch down by the corner of the window and peer up. Sure enough, the voice is Tanner’s. He is pacing back and forth in front of his bed, his fists clenched at his sides.

“You said not to,” says a female voice. I recognize that voice right away, even though it is a mere shell of what it used to be.