“Hello?”
“Hey, are you at the hospital with Ruston and Paula?”
“No, I didn’t go. I was doing a photo shoot,” I tell her.
“Oh, well, Paula told me that Austin is awake and was asking about everyone. He’s out of ICU if you want to go by later.”
“Oh, really?”
“That’s one of the reasons I called. The other was to tell you that we’re cooking dinner for the McGregors tonight, so come over and eat.”
That’s not a good idea right now, and I guess it’s time I let her know. “I think I’m just going to stay home tonight, Mom. I’m really tired.”
“Tamilyn, what is going on?”
“I don’t want to see Ruston, okay?”
“Since when? Suck it up and come eat, okay?”
“Fine. I’ll see you later.”
I hang up the phone and drive home. The first place I go is to my computer to check out the pictures I took. I’m highly disappointed with all of them. I hit delete and they all vanish. The pictures from Austin’s last fight pop up next and tears fill my eyes. This is the Austin I’ll always think of, not the Austin missing an arm. I place photo paper into my printer and choose the best shots to print. I pick through a few of Lance’s fight. He was so thrilled with the last photos. I know he’ll be ecstatic to see these. As they finish printing, I set them aside to make sure all the ink has dried before placing them in a manila folder. I set Lance’s photos on top of Austin’s because I won’t be able to stop myself from crying if I see them. When the last photo prints, I turn the computer off and leave my camera sitting on the desk. I grab the folder and carry it to the kitchen table. I’ll give this to Paula at dinner tonight and have her give them to Austin.
My phone buzzes as I lay across the couch, and it’s Ruston again. Does he ever give up?
Are you going to be at dinner tonight? You can’t avoid me forever.
I’m not trying to avoid you. You just need to realize you can’t force me to do something I don’t want to do.
Force you? I was just telling you that you need to see him. He asked about you today.
He did?
Yes. You should go see him Tam, he was actually in a go
od mood considering everything.
I can’t Ruston. He’ll be okay not seeing me.
Of course, you’re still being selfish. I don’t know why I said anything. Don’t worry I won’t go to dinner tonight.
Fine.
I didn’t know what else to say. I am not too keen on arguing through text message. He doesn’t reply and I drop my phone to the floor. I knew better than to answer his text message. I could have just faced him tonight and dealt with it then. With everyone around, it wouldn’t have escalated. That would have been my best bet. I close my eyes and begin to doze off. Not even a few minutes later, my eyes pop open. I’m not tired. I’m just trying to avoid everything. I sit up and decide to go for a run. I haven’t ran in so long, and maybe that’s the therapy I really need right now.
***
I come in from my run, covered with sweat and surprisingly full of energy. I jump in the shower to wash up. I want to get to my parents’ house a little early to beat Ruston there. I run my fingers through my damp hair and let it dry naturally. With a ponytail holder on my wrist, I throw on a t-shirt and some shorts. I’ll put my hair up later if I want to. I grab the folder of pictures along with my keys and purse and head out the front door.
A sign for the hospital catches my eye but I don’t dare venture that way. I keep my car heading straight to Mom and Dad’s neighborhood. My plan worked. I beat everyone here. I let out a sigh of relief as I grab my manila envelope. I walk in and head straight to where the aroma of roast fills the air. My stomach begins growling. No one makes a roast as well as Mom does.
“Hey, Mom, I’m here.” I try to sound as chipper as possible despite my mood.
“Hey, Tam, want to give me a hand?” My eyes fill with tears at her choice of words. I know she meant nothing by it and probably didn’t even realize what she said, but my guilt is making the simple question bigger than it needs to be.
“S-sure.” I set the manila envelope on the counter away from anything that could spill on the pictures. I’d be pissed if they got ruined.
Mom hands me a knife and a few cucumbers and tomatoes. “Can you cut these up for me and place them into a bowl? I’ll get you the Italian dressing when you’re done.”