Chapter 3.7 To Ramona

Ramona, come closer

Shut softly your watery eyes

The pangs of your sadness

Will pass as your senses will rise

The flowers of the city 

Though breathlike, get deathlike at times

And there's no use in tryin'

To deal with the dyin'

Though I cannot explain that in lines.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

It had been a week since the party and I still had yet to hear from Tuck.

I mean, it's not like we were dating, but I'm pretty sure making out in your underwear is a sign that a guy likes you.  In fact, I had spent the last week re-playing the party in my head, re-living every kiss, touch and spoken whisper.  I had felt something that night and thought he had too.  My mind had reeled with possibilities, that he and I could become...an us.  And now I was faced with the reality that I might never get to see my dreams come to fruition.  After all, one steamy hookup session is not a guarantee that you will get a second.

About that steamy hookup session...I was in denial for the first couple of days, but it was unavoidable that I should consider the obvious.  That night, in Jenna's bedroom, two teenagers were engaged in activities and every sign was pointing straight to sex.  All systems should have been a go but no.  I was the one who stopped it.  I was the one who wasn't ready.  I desperately hoped that he wasn't like that, that he wasn't just another horny, hormone-afflicted adolescent, because I wanted to believe in the way he looked at me.  Then I recalled how cunning he could be, how easy it was for him to wiggle his way out of any situation. I wondered if he had any feelings for me at all, or if I was just the Master Bullshitter's latest victim.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

Everyone is dying, some faster than others.

Marilyn didn't have much time left.  These days, her beautiful creamy complexion had taken on a yellowish hue, thanks to jaundice, and she slept most of the day due to the pain.  When awake, she had no appetite and barely enough strength to make it to the bathroom, even when accompanied, which recently had become all of the time.  The aide, Felicia was sent from the local hospice.  Apparently, she had an extensive history of taking care of patients in their final stages of cancer.  This wasn't her first rodeo.

She let me know straight away who wore the pants in the household and that I had to play by her rules now.  Apparently, I was a mere child to her.  The fact was, Grandmother wasn't guaranteed a month, a week or even the next day, and I desperately needed the woman who raised me.  Felicia stayed firm and explained that Grandmother had just been given her morning dosage and might be up for a visit later that afternoon. 

So what was a girl to do?  Head to Perth Hills, of course.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

Tuck wasn't the only one who could spin a tall tale.  All it took was a quick phone call to Lisa Caldwell to get his foster parents' address.  The poor lady hadn't seen either one of us since the night I had run out of Support Group and it was all too easy to convince her that we were accountability partners who leaned on each other from time to time.

"Lisa, I'm worried," I told her.  "He's been doing some pretty self-destructive things lately and insists that everything is fine, but...", I paused for effect before lowering my voice to a whisper.  "I think he's in denial."

"No problem dear," she had said.  "Tucker is a troubled boy.  If you think he's a danger to himself, then maybe you can be the one to reach out to him."

I arrived in Pertha a half an hour later.  The GPS brought me to a modest ranch house in the suburbs.  I slowly walked to the door, still sad about my grandmother, excited to see him, and scared of what he might say. 

But Tuck didn't answer the door.

"Hello Ramona," sneered Alexis.


I took a deep breath.  "Is Tuck home?"


She smiled cruelly.  "He is, but he's currently indisposed.  Can I take a message?"


"I'd rather talk to him myself."


Alexis snickered.  "I'm afraid that's not possible.  You see, he had a long, rough night last night.  Poor baby's exhausted," she explained, gesturing to her thrift-store, low-quality corset and cheaply made, lacy, dime-bin panties.  


Fucking whore.  It took everything in me to not grab her hair and drag her into the street for a good, old-fashioned curb stomp, but one of us was raised better.  With all the composure that I could muster, I managed to smile and request that he call me when he woke up.  Holding my head high, I swiveled on my heel and strode away, the picture of dignity.

The tears began as soon as the front door had shut.  They didn't stop for hours.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

He had thought after IT happened, he would never feel anything again.  To everyone who came in contact with him, Tuck was still the charming, silver-tongued, misunderstood youth who was slicker than an oil spill and could sell you your own shirt off your back.  His insides were different.

What kind of mother doesn't want their child?  What kind of mother tries to end her own life?  His, obviously.  She had never been the best parent, raising him by herself.  She was always out partying with her friends, leaving him to his own devices.  

When the social workers had found his mom's attempted suicide during their little investigation, they decided that he would be better off in a new home.  Tuck had gone along obediently, not even bothering to tell Alexis or his friends.  He adapted easily in Pertha Hills, listening to Steve and Dana well enough and attending his support group that was court mandated.  He felt nothing.

Nothing, that is, until he met Ramona Bergdorf.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

"Why did you ask me to come here?" Ramona scowled at him.

Truthfully he was surprised she showed up.  He had asked her to meet him at what was becoming "their" spot.  She had certainly looked better though.  Her face was flushed, her eyes were puffy and her clothes looked like they had been just thrown on.

"I thought you deserved an explanation," he said quietly, quite unlike himself. She was beautiful, despite her unkempt appearance and it killed him to know he was the reason for her pain.

"It-it's okay," she whispered, her voice weak.  "I get it.  I wouldn't sleep with you."

He stared at her, his mouth falling open.  "That's what you think?  That this is about the other night?"

"Why wouldn't I think that?  What girl wouldn't think that, Tuck?" she cried.  "You haven't called me since you dropped me off a week ago.  I tried to tell myself it wasn't because I didn't put out.  But guess who I saw when I went to your house?  Alexis, in her fucking underwear!  So please let me know if I'm being unreasonable."

Tuck sighed.  "You're right," he said lamely.  The Master Bullshitter for once, was at a loss for words.  He had nothing to say.

Ramona shook her head.  "I mean, I know we weren't dating, but I liked you. And I thought you liked me too."   

She managed a small smile.   "I was excited for that chance, to see what could happen," she said, her voice soft.  "I thought that we could really be something great."  And then she frowned.  "I never even had a chance, did I?"

He patted her head awkwardly, taking her hand in his.  "I did like you.  I do like you."

"Nothing says 'I like you' like screwing your ex.  You did sleep with her, right?"

Tuck nodded, mutely.  

Her lip trembled.  "I was hoping that maybe you didn't, that maybe we'd be like one of those teenager movies.  Two people who like each other keep having obstacles standing in the way, then there's a secret that tears them apart and in the end, it was all just a big misunderstanding and the two people kiss and make up."

She paused.  "I guess life isn't a movie."  

"Bright Eyes..."

"Don't call me that!"

Tuck exhaled.  "Ramona...please...just sit with me?"

He took a deep breath.  This was going to be hard.  "Alexis was my first girlfriend, but we fought a lot.  When I left Yume no Shima, we didn't even stay in touch.  We really only started hanging out because both of our families were super fucked up.  She kind of...understands where I'm from."


She sat there quietly, just listening.


"The last time I can remember telling anyone 'I love you', was the night my mother tried to kill herself."


Ramona gasped.  "Tuck..."


He held up a hand.  "They pumped her stomach, but right before she took the pills, she told me she wished that I had never been born."


"I am so sorry...is that why you told me that it's better when they die?"


He nodded.  "After that night, I realized that when you love someone, you let them in and give them the power to hurt you.  It's not worth it."


"So better to fuck everyone else over first?"


"Basically."

"You're an amazing girl, Ramona.  I care about you, but you deserve someone who can eventually love you."

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

And so, they were over.  Ramona had wanted to find her great love, like her parents.  Unlike her parents, she was going to see hers until the end.  How are you supposed to go to bat for someone who won't even let you in the dugout? And why did she miss something that she never truly had in the first place?

 I've heard you say many times

That you're better 'n no one

And no one is better 'n you

If you really believe that

You know you have 

Nothing to win and nothing to lose

From fixtures and forces and friends

Your sorrow does stem

That hype you and type you

Making you feel

That you gotta be just like them.
- Bob Dylan, "To Ramona"