25. “I’ll Be Over You”
Chapter 25
“I’ll Be Over You”
Sascha - Age 18, 1988
I t has been three weeks since our graduation, and I am still trying to come to terms with being free from the labors and toils of high school. It’s surreal—a mix of excitement for what’s to come and a tinge of sadness for leaving behind everything familiar.
I’m headed to college, a few hours away. For the first time in my life, I won’t be seeing my parents every day, and they won’t be there every day after school.
My friends are headed in different directions as well. Well, most of them. Ivy decided to stay here, and because of that, she and Corey broke up. It’s bizarre around here.
I’m both nervous and excited to start this new chapter in my life. I will be sharing a dorm room with someone named Jennifer. That’s all I know about her so far—her name. She could become another lifelong friend or someone I want to stab with a spork in the dining hall. Only time will tell.
As for my other roommate, Taz and I are enjoying our last bit of time together. We still have a few weeks before he leaves for fall hockey camp.
It’s going to be difficult for him to leave his grandmother, but he’s coping by reminding himself that part of what he’s doing is for her in the long run. Plus, Ida is so excited and frequently reminds him this is what he’s worked so hard for.
My dad and I recently went with him to get the last of his things from his old house. Imagine our surprise when we got there, and the house was empty, with a FOR RENT sign in the window.
Taz said he figured his dad had quit paying and got them evicted. I’m shaking with anger as we return to the car and drive away. I don’t understand how a parent can abandon their child like that. I mean, yes, I’m an adopted child, but that’s because my birth mother had enough love for me to find me a stable, loving home. Taz’s parents couldn’t be bothered.
I couldn’t help but ask the question that had nagged me. “What do you think happened to the rest of your stuff?”
Taz shrugs nonchalantly, but I recognize a flicker of pain in his eyes. “They probably sold it or pawned it for cash. I had some pretty good comic books. Old edition Superman ones. They are worth a pretty penny.”
“That’s so fucked up!” I blurt out from the back seat, unable to contain my outrage.
“Sascha!” my dad chides, giving me a stern look through the rearview mirror.
Feeling guilty for my outburst, I apologized quickly. “I’m sorry, Dad. But it’s not right. Those were Taz’s things and his memories. It makes me so angry.”
“I agree, Bug,” my dad says, nodding in solidarity.
Taz remains quiet throughout our exchange, his head lowered and his hands fiddling with a loose thread on his shirt. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to pour salt on any wounds.”
“It’s okay,” he replies weakly, looking at me with tired eyes. “I appreciate that you care.” It’s a half-hearted admission at best.
My heart aches for him as I watch him retreat into himself. I wish I could take away his pain and make everything better for him.
As we pull up to our house, Taz still isn’t his usual self. I try to lift his spirits by suggesting a trip to the cozy coffee shop down the street.
His eyes light up at the thought, but he hesitates for a moment before giving in to the temptation of a warm peach cobbler. “Yes,” he responds with a small smile playing on his lips. “I’ll drive.”
But we don’t drive to the coffee shop. We drive to our old elementary school, parking on the curb where our parents used to drop us off.
He surprises me with a gallant gesture—running around to my side of the car and opening the door for me. His hand extends toward me, and I take it, lifting myself out of the truck with ease. But as soon as my feet touch the ground, he pulls me into his arms and buries his face in my neck, engulfing me in a powerful embrace.
My initial reaction is to tense up, unsure how to respond to this public display of affection, even though this place is isolated at this time of the evening. It’s unfamiliar to me. We don’t do this outside of the house.
Taz abruptly pulls away, his eyes meeting mine with a flash of anger and pain behind them. The air between us is tense, charged with unspoken emotions. “You know what? I changed my mind. Let’s go home,” he says through gritted teeth.
My heart sinks at the hurt in his voice. “No, Taz. Let’s stay. I’m sorry I didn’t react the way you wanted.”
He scoffs, his expression incredulous. “React the way I wanted?” His fists clench at his sides as he struggles to contain his emotions. “Is that what you think this is about?”
I falter, realizing my mistake and feeling completely oblivious to the depth of his feelings. My stomach churns with guilt and regret.
With a determined stride, he makes his way to the back of the truck and releases the tailgate with a resounding thud. I join him, settling onto the edge of the tailgate and letting my legs dangle as we sit in momentary silence, taking in our surroundings.
“I don’t understand you,” he finally says. His brow furrows, and his hands clench into fists, lightly tapping against his forehead repeatedly in frustration. His emotions bubble beneath the surface. “You do these amazing things for me, like bringing Gram to see us for prom. And when we’re alone together, it’s perfect. But you still refuse to take this seriously. Take me seriously.“ The words come out in a rush, as if he’s been holding them back for too long.
The warm summer breeze rustles through the leaves nearby as we sit facing the playground, but we focus solely on each other.
“Of everyone in this world, Sascha, you know me,” he continues. “And yet, you keep me at a distance. What else should I think except that I’m not good enough for you?”
I release a sigh, my eyes searching his face for any sign of understanding. “We’re both leaving soon. You’re going to Minnesota. I’ll be in Ohio. Not exactly close.”
“Thanks for the geography lesson,” he replies sarcastically.
A pang of guilt hits me as I see tears form in his eyes. I’m hurting him, but I can’t fix it.
“This has been an amazing few months,” I say softly. “And I feel like I have my best friend back. What more can we ask for?”
His jaw clenches, and he turns away. “Best friend, huh?” he mutters bitterly. “See, here I thought it was more. Every night we were together, I thought we were building something deeper than friendship.”
My heart aches as I hear the hurt in his voice. He’s been through a lot of rejection in his life, starting with his own mother. And now, I’m adding to that pain.
“Taz, come on,” I plead. “I’m hardly the only person you’ve had sex with. Don’t tell me you got emotionally attached to all of them.”
He looks at me with sadness in his eyes, and I immediately regret my words. “Ask me how many people I’ve slept with, Sascha. Not just had sex with. But held in my arms, woke up with, and wanted to do it all over again and again.”
I hesitate before answering. “I don’t—“
“One.” He interrupts. “Sascha. The answer is one. Don’t talk to me like what’s been going on between us is meaningless because it’s not.”
I don’t know how to make things right. “What do you want me to say?” I ask helplessly.
“There’s nothing to say,” he says, tears breaking free and streaming down his face. “I’ll never be enough for you. I’m not enough for anyone.” His voice cracks on the last word.
I feel my own tears welling up as I watch him break down in front of me. This isn’t only about me. This is about all the times he’s been rejected and hurt by those close to him.
“That’s not true,” I argue. “I think you’re everything.”
“Not enough to admit to anyone around that we were a couple. Not enough to hold my hand, kiss me after a game, admit to everyone you care about me.”
“I don’t know, okay. I don’t know why I’m this way. I’m not used to showing my feelings. I’m not affectionate like Ivy.”
“I’m not asking you to be someone else,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m asking you to be yourself. That’s the person I’m drawn to. That’s the person I want to love me.”
My heart skips a beat at his words, overwhelmed with emotion. I do love Michael Tazman. I always have. But for some reason, I can’t say it. “You’re so important to me, Michael,” is all I manage to choke out. It’s a cop-out, a lukewarm, watered-down statement, and we both know it.
He refuses to look at me. “Taz. Look at me.” He finally turns his head, and his red eyes meet my own. “I care about you so much.”
“But you don’t,” he says, wiping away tears with the back of his hand. “Or you can’t. Maybe you won’t let yourself.”
He’s right. I’ve been pushing him away, afraid to open up and be vulnerable. Especially now, when he needs me more than ever.
“I need to grow up, Sascha,” he says with conviction. “I have to take things seriously if I ever have a chance of making it to the NHL.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means that I need to stop accepting distractions. I need to carve out room in my life for real and meaningful things.”
“And I’m not those things?” I ask with a choked sob.
“You’re just about the only real and meaningful thing I have,” he says. “But you don’t want it. At least not right now. I think I understand.”
My lips quiver as the salty tears run down my face, stinging my tongue.
“I need to make something of myself. For me. For Gram. We’re all that’s left.”
“Is everything alright?” Ivy asks, her hand gently covering mine. We sit at our usual coffee shop, the one Taz and I had planned to visit two weeks ago before our relationship fell apart.
“I suppose so,” I reply with a half-hearted shrug. “It’s all my fault anyway.”
“Oh, Sash,” Ivy says, tilting her head sympathetically. “You couldn’t have predicted this. None of us could have.”
“Why couldn’t I be honest with him about my feelings?”
Ivy sighs, her gaze drifting off into the distance. “Maybe because it’s too scary to face your true emotions. Or maybe you’re simply not ready for that level of vulnerability yet.”
Her words hit a nerve, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s speaking from personal experience. “It sounds like you know how that feels.”
“I do,” she admits. “Corey and I were meant to be together. My love for him runs so deep it aches in my bones.”
A million thoughts swirl through my mind, but one question burns brighter than the rest: "Is he still living with Corey?“ That July evening stands at the forefront of my memory. We returned home, only for him to silently retreat to his room. Then, the next day, after saying goodbye to my parents and promising to keep in touch with them, he left without a word to me.
“I think they’re both gone,” she says, her voice thick with sadness. My heart aches. I’m not sure what’s worse. The thought of him being so close yet out of reach or knowing he’s now so far away.
Tears flow freely down my cheeks as I ask, “What do we do now?”
“We do what I did for years,” she replies, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “We take each day as it comes.” The weight of her words settles on me like a heavy blanket, reminding me of the long days and lonely nights that stretch before us. But I know we have each other and unknown futures with endless possibilities.