TBD on Ning
Tag, You're It!
When Tag told Josie he had something to discuss with her, right off she says, "you cheatin' on me?"
Really? That's the first thing she thinks of? And deep in his heart, Tag believed that to be false. In spite of what it looked like he believed himself blameless.
He ran this around in his head as he rolled himself out of his side of the bed - fuzzy, hurting and spaced. He had meant to have only a short one before bedtime, but how easy was that?
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Permalink Reply by Bmichael on
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Sitting at the kitchen table waiting for the coffee, it wasn’t long before he thought of Marcie.
They had met soon after he started the new job. In fact, she walked up and introduced herself with her thick Spanish accent, tight jeans, and tall red spikes. At first it was just pleasant smiles during chance encounters in the hallways and break room, until he found himself going different routes to his office so he could nod an occasionally wave through her window.
The first email from her was an offer. She would teach him Spanish, if he would teach her programming. A deal was made.
In reality, there were few Spanish lessons and even fewer in programming as they quickly began learning about each other.
She was divorced and living with her boyfriend for the last year, who also worked for the company, but in a different building. They shared similar likes - good food, fine wines, dogs, and a sense of humor, among many others.
They became good work buddies – sending daily hello and goodbye memos, forwarding silly Youtube videos throughout the day, and sharing food - he bringing her things from the deli across the street, while she cooked – offering him authentic dishes from her native Mexico.
It was all above board. Tag and Marcie sat together in the break room and could often be seen in each other’s office – lights on, doors open.
And neither of them ever hinted at anything more.
One day he received an email with an unusual tone. Marcie wanted to tell him about something, but was nervous and unsure about how he would respond.
She had cancer.
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Permalink Reply by Westerly_2 on
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This is a hard ball to hit, Bmichael. Let me see....
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(I'm saving the skinheads for later)
Josie browned the pork in the skillet and whipped up the eggs in the bowl,her hair pulled away from her face with a clasp at the nape of her neck. She was chilled deep having to wait for Tag'sspecial time for talking about something. You just talked when you talked, didn't you?
What was it? Was it about that drinking of his? He never before wanted to talk about that, even after that day he pulled off all his clothes and stood in the open doorway naked, shouting, "What you looking at?" to the shocked neighbors.
Could he want to explain how odd he had been acting lately - telling her on the phone his mother was dead, when all it was was a crying jag on the anniversary of his father's passing. Or that time he told her their friend had leukemia, when, in fact, she had nothing of the kind? His eyes stared through you - crazy.
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It was "just" a melanoma on her forehead, but for marcie it was no small thing. Her boyfriend Brody had his usual off-hand response. "It's highly treatable," he said, drumming his fingers on the top of her head in that maddening way of his.
But her friend Tag was the kind of guy who got in a twist when the milk was past its sell-by date. So she knew she count count on him for the sympathy she was looking for, maybe even the heavy breathing, clenched teeth and crying she craved right now - a sharing of the panic she was feeling all alone.
(In the distance, do i hear a pack of Harleys descending on the tea room?)
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Tag shook his head as he watched Josie fix breakfast.
This wasn’t the first time she questioned his fidelity. It began in high school, when they first started going together. Back then, for reasons he never understood, he drew a lot of female attention. Tag didn’t play sports, wasn’t in a band, and was an average student, at best – nothing special. He didn’t even have a car.
But at school dances and such, he was often asked to dance and on more than a few occasions, he had to duck out quickly to avoid the wrath of a jealous boyfriend.
And then there was Miss Davis, his algebra teacher in his junior year. He was failing, and concerned, she offered to tutor him after class. On a Friday evening at her apartment, after an hour of studying, she produced a bottle of Mateus, a joint, and a Jimi Hendrix album. Failing algebra quickly became the least of his academic problems that year.
But of the all the girls who flirted and teased after him, the one he really liked was Josie, who showed no interest.
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Josie just wasn’t that into him anymore. Maybe she never was. In high school she had tried to sit him down with her mother for tea and drag him off to church. That wasn’t him. He figured the bad boy shine that once held her had worn off long ago. Might as well admit it.
There had to be another road for him, and that’s why he was saving money from his pay check for the Harley he had always wanted. He had 4000 bucks in cash stuffed in the sock monkey sock in the hanging basket in the guest bedroom. She had never found it. He said risk be damned. He was sicker than anyone knew anyways – physically, his left side went numb on him from time to time, and judging from the dreams and thoughts that came to him, in his head too.
Tag stuffed the hundreds in the back pocket of his jeans when he lit out that night. He really should have left the money home. Josie thought it was a bad idea for him to drive the Cavalier while he was so drunk.
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(You can advance it, Marilyn).
There was a free phone in the drunk tank, but josie refused to post Tag's bail.
"Just wait a few days," she said, "and they'll cite and release you. That's what they do. They don't want to feed you any longer than they have to, crowded like they are."
Tag could take care of himself. Served him right. Josie nodded her certaintly. She was sure she hadn't revealed her relief in hearing his voice - after her suspicions about his failure to come home last night.
Tag made his second call to Marcie's cell phone.
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