Settling Down, Part 7
May. 24th, 2009 08:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fleurlb
Tim knew he should call Al, but he just couldn't do it. He didn't know what to say to her or how to apologize for what he'd done. Somehow, just saying “I'm sorry” didn't seem enough.
He knew he owed her an explanation. But he decided that he needed to see her face when they talked, to make sure it matched whatever words came out of her mouth. At least that's what he told himself.
But really, he was just too scared to call her. What if she was done with him? He didn't know if he could handle that. He certainly knew he couldn't handle hearing it while he was in a motel room, alone, 600 miles from the people who knew him best, cared about him most, and would kick his ass if he tried to do anything stupid.
He scrolled through his phone book, found Billy and Mindy's number and pressed the green button before he could talk himself out of it. The phone rang six times then Billy answered with a distracted “Yeah?” In the background, Tim could hear the television and Amber singing a song.
“Billy.”
“Tim? Where the hell are you?”
Before Tim could answer, he heard Mindy in the background, saying “You tell him I'm going to kick his ass up and down both sides of the street for a month of Sundays.”
Tim sighed. “I heard her, Billy. And I don't even know what that means. A month of Sundays.”
He heard a muffled sound as Billy covered the receiver and said something to Mindy. He could picture Billy waving her off and telling her he'd handle it.
“It means...Jesus, Tim....Nevermind what it means. Where the hell are you and what in God's name have you been doing for the last week?” Billy's voice was harsh and loud, causing Tim to cringe.
“Please don't yell at me,” Tim said, his voice cracking as everything he'd tried not to feel for the last week came bubbling to the surface.
Billy felt like he'd been dragged back in time over a decade, to when he first took responsibility for his little brother. He took a deep breath and tried to get himself under control.
“Tim, firstly, are you all right?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Sort of.”
“OK, now, where are you?”
“South Padre Island.”
“What the hell are....no, that's not important....Have you called Al?”
“No, Billy. I can't. I don't know what to say to her and I'm afraid of what she's going to say to me.” Tim leaned back on the bed and covered his eyes with his hand
“Timmy, she is going out of her mind worrying about you. She spent the other night calling hospitals. And she feels horrible, like it's all her fault and she drove you away. If you'd just given her a chance to explain, you'd see what a dumbass you've been. You jumped to a totally idiotic conclusion.”
“Then tell me, Billy. Because I know what I saw.”
“Dad must of figured she'd be an easy way to get to you, God knows what he said to her, but she kept tellin' him to go away. So when the soft approach didn't work, he got threatening-”
“He threatened her?”
“No, not like that He threatened to take me to court to get his house back. She told him that it wouldn't happen and made him an offer. 50 grand for him to give up his claim on the house and promise not to contact us again.”
“She paid him to go away?”
“Yeah. And she buried some details in the fine print – like it was 5,000 cash up front, but then he gets the rest 5,000 at a time, every six months, as long as he stays away.”
Tim was silent as he thought about this. It certainly explained the weird phone calls at the garage, her disappearing act at Smitty's, meetings that took longer than they should have taken.
“Damn...But don't you think she should have talked to us first? It seems like a good idea, but then do we really want to be encouragin' him like that? Isn't it like....I don't know, negotiating with a terrorist?”
“What are you talking about?”
“He hustles and scams for a living. If he thinks she's a soft touch, then he's never going to leave us alone. He'll just keep coming back, asking for more.”
“He's a dirtbag but he ain't stupid. He tried it once already and the way it went, I don't think we're going to see him again. For real this time.”
“What happened?”
“When the rest of the money didn't get wired into the account, he came looking for her at the garage. He tried to do that thing he does – you know, where he's figured out what's most important to you and uses it to hurt you?”
“Yeah, I know.” Tim tried not to think about all the times he'd seen that nasty little trick in action.
“He said something about you and she just let him have it. I didn't see her first punch, but her second busted open his lip and took some teeth with it. I'm guessing she probably broke a rib or two.”
“Her ribs? He didn't...”
“Timmy, I don't think he landed a single punch. You know how hard she hits when she's just playing.”
“Yeah.” Tim looked down and smiled.
“You got a good one here, Timmy. Please tell me you haven't done anything you can't undo.....you know what I'm asking you here, right?”
“Yeah, Billy, I know. And no. Came close, but no.”
“Good, because this girl loves you. And it's a white-hot, fierce kind of love. She'd do anything for you, Tim. Anything.”
“Yeah, but is she mad at me for leaving? I'm scared she won't take me back.”
“She's mad at herself and she's worried about you. She doesn't know what she'd do without you.”
“Yeah, I know how she feels.”
“Then will you just get your ass home already? First thing tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah, Billy, I'm ready to come home.”
“I'm going to call Al just to let her know you're alive. I'm not tellin' her anything else, though.”
“Why? You think I won't come home?”
“I know you, Timmy. You have a bad habit of shutting down and putting things off. Just don't wait too long because you might not be able to find your way back.”
“Yeah, Billy. I get it.”
“Oh, and Timmy, if I don't see your sorry ass at work on Monday, you're fired.”
“Yes, boss.” Tim said good-bye and disconnected the call. He turned the light off and closed his eyes, hoping he'd be able to sleep but fearing that his head might just churn things over all night.
*** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** ****
The next day, Tim was on the road before noon, Billy's advice ringing in his ears. He wanted to go home, more than anything, even though he wasn't sure what he would find when he finally got there. He had his Ipod on shuffle as miles of dusty landscape slipped past. George sat in the passenger seat with his head out the window, ears flapping in the breeze and a big doggy grin on his face.
Just north of San Antonio, Tim realized that he still had no idea what he was going to say to Al. He knew he needed to figure it out, to come up with some kind of a plan. Billy was never the guy you'd go to for a plan. He was strictly a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of guy. Plus, words had always come a lot easier for him. When Billy put his mind to it, he could come over all charming and sweet-talk anyone.
Six was the man for a plan. Maybe he was always wired that way or maybe years of being a quarterback had made him that way. It didn't matter – when it came to planning, no one was better than him. Tim flipped on his hands-free phone kit and pressed the quick dial that Al had set up for Six.
The phone rang about eight times before Jay answered. Tim could hear splashing and shouting in the background.
“Six?”
“Timmy? You had better be telling me that you're on your way home.”
“I am, Six. Half-way there, just passed San Antonio. Where are you?"
“Noah's swimming lesson. Hold on a second, I can move to some place at least a little quieter.”
As Tim waited, he heard the pool noises receding and then a clunking sound as Six picked the phone back up.
“You wait a whole week before calling anyone? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I don't know, Six.” Tim sighed and ran his hand through his hair, then rested his elbow on the car door.
“What were you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Is that actually nothing or is that you're-not-going-to-talk-about-it-nothing?” Jason's voice was crisp, his words harsh.
Tim cringed, but knew that he deserved all this anger and probably more. “It's nothing. I drank....a lot....and mostly stayed in my room, watching movies and trying not to think about anything.”
“Yeah? And how did that work out for you?”
“Shit, Six. I know you're mad but I'm calling because I need help and I can't ask for it if you're going to be like that.”
Jason took a deep breath and then sighed. “Okay, okay. What do you need?”
“I don't know what to say to Al when I get home. Sorry doesn't seem enough. And I don't even know if she's going to let me come home.”
“Why'd you leave?”
“What? I don't know.” Tim drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and tried not to become impatient.
“Well you'd best use the rest of your time on the road to figure it out. You have to explain to her what you were thinking, why you did the things you did, why you didn't call.”
“Really, Six? I need to tell her all of that?”
“Timmy, listen to me. Al called me on Sunday night to see if you'd come up here. She wasn't mad at you for leaving, she was upset at you for shutting her out.”
“So it all comes back down to talkin'?”
“Yeah, Tim, relationships usually do.”
The words were edged with sarcasm and Tim could picture Six rolling his eyes. “Six? I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner.”
“Yeah, I know you are. I'm beginning to think May is National Run-Away from Home month or something.”
“What do you mean?”
“Erin. She left. Said she couldn't do this anymore, any of this, and took off for some kind of yoga commune in Montana or something. Said she got a job there and that she needed to be on her own, to clear her mind and focus on her chakras or chi or some woo-woo bullshit like that.”
“For real?”
“Yeah. She's been gone two weeks already.”
Tim was quiet for a moment, considering the implications of Erin's leaving. “Well....Isn't this kind of what you wanted? For her to make up her mind what she wanted?”
“Yeah, but the problem is, she didn't just leave me. She left Noah too.”
“Shit. Is he....I don't know....okay?”
“So far. I don't think he really understands what's going on. I've gone on a few business trips, so maybe he just thinks that's where Erin is and that she'll be back soon.”
Tim nodded but didn't know what else to say. He hated talking on the phone. He didn't know if this was an awkward pause or a comfortable silence. In the end, Six changed the subject.
“I got a date for your wedding, Timmy.”
He could hear the smile in his friend's voice. “Oh yeah? Who's that?”
“Lyla. And she asked me.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.”
“You didn't have a talk with her when she was back in Dillon, did you?”
“Who, me?” Tim feigned innocence but knew it wouldn't pass Six's bullshit detector.
Jason chuckled. “I see your hand in this, Timmy. So, thanks.”
“No problem.” Tim smiled and felt something he couldn't quite describe. Relief and a lightness. Like he'd finally, after all these years, been able to do something to fix what he'd broken when he'd cheated with Lyla.
“Well, you got some thinking to do and I need to see the end of swim class. They're jumping into the deep end for the first time today.”
“OK. Thanks, Six.”
Tim ended the call and sighed. He had maybe four hours before he'd be home, trying to explain things to Al. The fear of it was nearly overwhelming and the thought of pulling off the road was tempting, but he knew he still had one more thing to fix.
*** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** ****
Tim stood at the front door, preparing to open it and see what sort of destruction his stupidity had create this time. It was late evening, but he could see lights on in the house, so he knew Al was still awake. He took a deep breath and opened the door, staggering backwards when Bruno charged out, Helicopter Tail going strong.
Tim called Al's name, but there was no response. From the loud German pop music coming from the back of the house, Tim guessed she was painting in her office. Bruno and George bounded into the house, where they wrestled and chased around the coffee table until Tim ushered them out to the backyard.
The hours in the car had given him time to think, maybe too much time. All he could do now was hope that she'd give him a chance and listen to him.
He walked back to her office and paused in the hallway, leaning against the wall. Al had the easel set up so her back was to the door. He could see her painting -- a storm rolling in over a stark, grassy plain. He couldn't see her face but knew it was wrinkled in concentration, her eyes focused intently as she tried to recreate the images in her head.
Not wanting to startle her by suddenly announcing his presence, he took out is cell phone and called her. She fumbled around with her paint brush and palette, until she was able to reach in her pocket and pull out her phone. She looked at the display and then answered while leaning over to turn down the volume on the stereo.
“Timmy?”
He kept his voice whisper-quiet. “Al.”
“Where are you?”
“Turn around,” he said as he disconnected the call and tucked the phone in his pocket.
Al spun around and approached him with such purpose, he thought she might actually punch him. Not that he didn't deserve it, he knew. She pulled up short at the doorway and stared for a long minute, then sighed
“I don't know whether to hit you or hug you,” she said, jamming her hands in her pockets, like she didn't trust herself to resist taking a swing at him.
“I think you know my preference on that one.” He expected angry words, yelling, mean names. He didn't expect this sort of flat calm and wondered what it meant.
“Actually, I don't. It wouldn't be the first time you went looking for a fight because of your father.”
“Please, Al.....I just want to make things right again.”
She took a step forward and put her hand on his chest. Tim's heart jumped and for the first time in a week, he could breath again. He looked down at her hand, frowning at the cuts on her knuckles and the yellow-green bruises.
Tim gently took her hand, holding it in both of his.
“Looks painful.”
She shrugged. “I'll live.”
“Billy told me what happened.”
Al took a step back. “Come on into my office. We've got a lot to talk about.”
She turned and pulled him into the room, then let go of his hand. Tim sat down at one end of the couch and she sat on the other, facing toward him but pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. Like she was bracing for some sort of impact. The middle of the couch stretched between them.
“Tim, I'm sorry. I know Billy told you what happened and maybe what you told him was right. Maybe I should have talked to you first. But I was just trying to protect you.” Her husky voice wavered as she spoke quickly, like she wanted to get all of the words out before he walked away again.
“I know you were.”
More silence followed. She wasn't one for pouring words into the empty space between them. He always appreciated her patience, the way she'd wait until he was ready to talk.
Tim leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him. He looked back at Al and took a deep breath.
“I know I hurt you....I just..... hope you can give me a chance to explain.” His voice cracked and he sat up, leaning into the corner of the couch so he could face her, his arm stretched out along the back of the couch.
Al nodded.
“If I could change anything, it would be the night of Mindy's party. After my dad showed up here. Maybe everything would have been different if I'd just talked to you then.” Tim looked down, aware of Al's eyes on him.
“Why didn't you?” she asked quietly. Tim was relieved to have a question to answer.
“I guess I was just scared that if you knew what kind of man he was, you'd think less of me....like I might have a good chance of turning out like him.” Tim felt Al move a little closer and put her hand on top of his.
“Timmy, you know I studied genetics in graduate school and I can promise you, no one has proven that being an asshole is a genetically determined characteristic,” she said with the faint hint of a smile in her voice.
Tim took a deep breath. “I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I stayed gone so long. I'm sorry I didn't call you. Look, I'm not good at talking, not when it's something like this, and the phone was just going to make it worse. But I should have known that you were going to worry.”
“That was the worst part of it – not knowing if you were okay. And knowing if you weren't okay, it was because of me.”
If there was one thing Tim understood, it was having good intentions and then watching everything go wrong. He shook his head. “It wouldn't have been your fault.”
“But keeping my plan from you, maybe I could have handled that better. I was just hoping by secretly dealing with him, I could make it all go away.”
“And I thought that by not ever talking about him, I could make it go away. Or at least pretend that he'd gone away.”
“So we were both kinda stupid here, then,” said Al, picking his hand up and bringing it down to her lap. She looked up at Tim and he could see the way back, but knew there was one more thing he had to talk about.
“Al, I have to tell you one more thing.” He looked down, unable to meet her eyes.
“I....well...I kinda sorta a little bit cheated on you, I guess you could say.” He felt his cheeks start to burn.
“You want to define 'kinda sorta a little bit' for me, because I'm not sure what that means.” Her words were measured, her tone neutral, but Tim could feel the tension building.
“I kissed this girl.”
“Just one?”
“Just one.”
“And that was all?”
“Yeah.”
“Tyra warned me about you. And she spent the last week ranting about rally girls, six packs, and fifths of Jack, but I told her that you had changed. That you'd grown up.”
Tim kept his head down, not wanting to see the hurt and disappointment he was sure was etched on Al's face. She reached over and put her hand on his cheek, turning his head to make him look at her. It was childish, but his first instinct was to keep his eyes closed so he wouldn't have to look.
What he saw surprised him. No anger, no disappointment. Just an open honesty and heart-felt concern. She was just Al, his Al, the same as she'd always been.
“You have grown up, so much. I know I didn't know you then, but you're not the guy Tyra told me about. You're not.”
He tried to look away, but the pressure of her hand was gently insistent.
“It would have been easy for you not to tell me about this. How was I ever going to find out? But you took a risk to do the right thing, which tells me everything I need to know.”
“I'm sorry.” It was all he could think to say.
“Well, you know, first one's free. Look, Timmy, we can't change what happened, we can only learn and move on from here.”
“So...you're not mad at me?”
She considered the question long enough that he started to worry.
“No,” she said finally. “I'm not mad at you. I'm still hurt, but mostly I'm just relieved that you're home. Are you mad at me?”
He shook his head. “I was the first night, but it wore off sometime in the last week.....Al, I know I don't say it enough.....I love you.”
“I know you do. And I love you too. You have such good heart – it kills me when you can't see it.”
Al climbed into Tim's lap, put her arms around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Tim held her close and finally understood what people meant when they said that being with someone felt like coming home.
The CD on the stereo came to the last song and automatically restarted. It was one of the few German songs Tim could recognize and understand. When he'd first heard it, something about the singer's voice, the emotion in it, was so compelling that he'd asked Al what the song was about. She told him it was sort of about surfing, about waiting your whole life for the perfect wave, nearly giving up on it, and then, when you finally get it, not thinking too much and just going along with it.
Tim turned Al around so she could lean against his chest. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the weight of her pressing into him, the way her hair tickled his neck, the way she twined her fingers into his and pulled his arms more tightly around her.
“So, you still going to marry me?” he asked.
“Damn straight I'm still going to marry you. You're stuck with me.”
“I think I can live with that.” He smiled and shifted her so she was leaning into his arm, then leaned around and kissed her.
