Vandal (Ashes & Embers 2)

I lean closer to Jill. “No, I didn’t think you had any friends at all, because you’re a spiteful bitch,” I bark in her ear.

“At least I’m not a murderer.” She throws in my face.

I slam my fist against the door next to Jill’s head and she jumps. “You better shut your fucking mouth and stay out of my life and away from anyone I’m associated with. You’ve fucked your way through the band—go find some new victims. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer tomorrow about harassing us.”

I grab Tabi’s hand and drag her down the hall.

“You better run while you can, little girl!” Jill yells after us.

I’m so furious that I can’t even speak. Tabi is dead quiet as she hangs on to my hand, not saying a word as we grab my stuff and head out to the parking lot. I open the passenger side door and let her in, then go around and get in the driver’s seat. I’m afraid to ask her what she knows, and what else Jill told her.

“Are you okay?” I finally ask when we’ve driven a few miles away and I can’t stand the silence any more. She nods but still won’t speak. Shit.

“Other than that fiasco, did you enjoy the concert?”

She still says nothing.

I try a different angle. “Answer me, Tabi. I won’t be ignored by you.”

She swallows as she stares out the windshield. “Yes. I thought Sugar Kiss was great. And you …” She pauses and I glance over at her, and her eyes are closed tight. “You were amazing. So beautiful up there on the stage. Your presence is just so … intense.”

She opens her eyes again and I see a tear shimmering in the corner of her eye. “I really like the hard stuff you played with the girls, but when you played the soft acoustic songs with Lukas that night, that was just beautiful and so soulful. I loved it. It’s like there are two sides of you.” Her voice cracks a little at the end.

She knows.

Neither one of us talk during the rest of the drive to the house, and the silence is maddening to me. I want to force her to talk but I’m afraid of what she’s going to say. My mind is racing, not knowing what she’s thinking, not knowing what she has pieced together. I know whatever she says when she finally talks, and whatever she does, that I deserve it and I’ll have to accept it no matter how bad it is.

Once inside the house, she sits on the chair in the living room. Not the couch where I can sit with her, as she usually does, but the lone chair. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever sat in that chair and I know from this day forward I will hate the sight of it.

“She called you Alex,” she finally says, piercing the long, bloated silence.

“I know. I was adopted when I was five and they changed my name. They didn’t like my real name of Vandal. They thought it was strange.”

Her voice comes out strained with emotion and she stares at her hands in her lap. “Please tell me it’s all just a coincidence. Our accidents happening in the same month. The driver of the car that hit us was named Alex. The little girl crying. You losing your daughter. Us meeting in a cemetery. All your secrecy.” She looks at me with pleading eyes. “Tell me you didn’t know.”

I sit on the couch and take my leather jacket off, the pain in my chest and my head coming on hard from the mention of the little girl crying. My Katie.

“Come here,” I finally say.

“No.”

“Tabi …”

With a deep sigh she crosses the room and kneels in front of me, as she’s done a hundred times or more, and will probably never do again.

Taking a deep breath, I lift her chin so I can look into her blue eyes that are no longer as bright as they were earlier today. “It was me,” I say softly. “I was the driver of the car.”

Her entire body starts to tremble and tears spring from her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. “How long have you known?” she chokes out.

“I’ve known from the day I met you in the cemetery. Actually, before that.”

She puts her head into her hands. “The accident killed my husband, Vandal. It almost killed me. You let me sit here and cry and never said a word.”

“I know. I should have told you.”

“You made me talk about Nick. Christ, you even questioned me about sex with him. How could you do that, knowing you were part of his death? You touched me. Do you know how sick that is? Didn’t you feel any guilt at all for what you were doing?” She shakes her head and a teardrop falls to the floor and disintegrates. Just like us.

I hang my head down, knowing she’s right. “Yes, I did. You’re right, it was a horrible thing for me to do, and I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you can say? You’re sorry?” She slaps me, and I’m stunned for a moment, rubbing my cheek. After a few seconds I lift my eyes to meet hers.

“Yes. I am sorry. You don’t know how fucking sorry I am. I had no idea what I was doing. I saw you at the cemetery and then I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I hated myself for ruining so many lives, including yours. You were happy, and loved. And I ruined it.” I search for the right words but they’re not coming to me. “I thought I could give it back to you, and make it better.”

“Better for who? For you? To ease your guilt?”

“Better for both of us. To move past it; to not be alone. I wanted you to smile like I saw in your pictures. I wanted to know what it felt like to be the reason for the smile and not the agony.”

I hate myself right now more than I ever have, and that’s saying a lot. I don’t know how to fight, or explain myself. I’ve never had to before; I’ve never had a reason to. I don’t know how to make logical sense of what I do or did, because usually, there isn’t any logical sense in anything I do. I just do. There is no way for me to make her understand my behavior when I don’t even understand it myself.

She stares at me, unblinking for a long time. She looks as if she’s in shock. I know I’m losing her, but I don’t know the words to fix this. I only know how to express myself physically, and that’s not going to work with what’s happening between us right now.

“My husband is dead. What were you doing when you crashed into us? Were you drunk? Screwing around with that girl? I have to know what happened. Were you texting? Did your daughter distract you somehow? Tell me!” she demands.

“No … none of that. I fell asleep. I was exhausted and shouldn’t have been driving. I swear that’s the truth, Tabitha. I would never drink and drive with Katie, or fool around while I’m driving, or text.”

She’s staring at me, unblinking, tears still falling from her eyes. “How hard is it to stay awake while you’re driving?” she cries. “Normal people don’t get in a car when they’re exhausted and try to drive around on a fucking dark mountain road!”

“I know that, but I had to take Katie home. Her mom was being a bitch, threatening me.” I grab her hands. “Please, Tabi, listen to me …”

“Threatening you?” She yanks her hands away from me. “How? With what? What could be so bad that you would h

ave to risk the lives of other innocent people?”

All I have is the truth, but it’s not good enough. It was a mistake. One that I’m going to have to live with forever.

“She was threatening to take me to court for violating the visitation agreement,” I answer. “I was afraid she’d make me lose my visitation.”

“So, because you two idiots had a baby and weren’t mature enough to communicate, my husband had to die. That’s just great.” She stands and walks across the room, stopping to stare at a wolf statue on the mantle.

“He’s not the only one that died, Tabitha. I lost my daughter. She was only five years old.”

She turns and glares at me with a coldness I didn’t think possible of her. “Let’s not forget the whore you had with you.”

“That’s enough,” I say, standing. “I’m sorry. There is nothing else I can say. I’m sorry for all of it. I’m sorry about Nick, and about Renee, and about Katie.” I lift her chin, forcing her to look at me. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Fresh tears well from her red, puffy eyes. “I told you I loved you, Vandal. I meant that. You’ve never once said it to me. How do you think that feels, on top of everything else? I feel guilty, and more alone than I did before.”

“You’re not alone, Tabi. I’m still here.” I pull her into a hug, hoping I can somehow comfort her again.

“I’m so confused right now I don’t even know what to feel. I hate you for killing my husband, and I hate you for making me love you.” She twists herself away from me. “I don’t want you touching me.”

“I’m supposed to be able to touch you whenever I want. You agreed to that. Let me just hold you. Please.”

“No,” she says, backing farther away. “How is it that you can touch me but you can’t say the words I need to hear? What is wrong with you?”

If I only knew the answer to that question.

I shake my head slowly. “I don’t know,” I admit. “But whatever is wrong with me, you were making it better. That much I do know.”

The look in her eyes says it all, though. I can’t see love or desire or care there at all anymore.