Forty-two
FORTY-TWO
Bea
I t was, hands down, the best moment of my entire life.
We were intoxicated on love, giggling and cracking jokes, giddy like children on Christmas morning. He wrapped his arms around me and showed me how to “fix” the electric conductor pegs on the outside of the barrier fence. But he might as well have been speaking Latin with the way it entered one ear and exited the other. He knew I just wanted him to hold me. When he peppered my neck and shoulders with kisses, we laughed until our sides ached. We kissed until our phones racked up missed calls. We stood in the rain until our clothes hung limp on our bodies.
Our time together was ecstasy. A thrill nothing in my life could compare to.
We loved each other.
The truth was so big, so right my heart couldn’t even contain it. If I let myself dwell on what it meant—what we meant—I felt overwhelmed to the point of bursting. To the point of joyous tears spilling from my eyes. To the point I wanted to sing from the top of my lungs—and even did a couple times.
With the way I was purposefully distracting him, it was a pure miracle Tag finished the fence repairs at all. After a long time, we dragged ourselves to the Ranger and went to the house to grab fresh clothes.
Tag and I bumbled through the kitchen door. I staggered in like a drunken idiot, hanging on his arm and cackling at something dumb I’d said before we walked in. Tag’s quiet voice was punctuated by his own laughter as he halfway dragged me inside.
I swiveled toward the kitchen bar to see Jackie looking at us over her open laptop, her jaw hanging as she watched our side show.
I straightened, singing a greeting, “Hey, sis!”
She crossed her arms, sat back, her eyebrows arching into the sky. “Well, hello.” Her gaze went to Tag. “Tag, care to share where you two have been?”
“Uh”—he couldn’t quite sober his smile—“fixin’, um, fixin’ fences?”
I wheezed as I slapped him on the chest. “Could you sound any more guilty?”
He tipped his head forward, his wet hair flopping against his forehead. He could barely speak. “I’m—gonna go—change ‘fore I get in trouble.”
He didn’t look up as he passed Jackie to go through the hallway. Red bloomed in the top of his cheekbones, his smile huge even though he was doing his best to stifle it.
When we heard his bedroom door shut, Jackie demanded, “Start talking. Right the hell now.”
“He kissed me.” My heart raced admitting the wonderful news.
She spun her finger around, indicating the whole of me. “ This does not happen from a mere kiss.”
I shrugged my shoulders, suddenly feeling the air conditioning in the house. “Okay, he gave me a long kiss.”
“That man got to second base, didn’t he?”
Heat, again , exploded in me. Flashes of Tag and I raced through my memory like a vivid dream. I groped for my sanity as I nodded. “Yeah, he—he did.”
For once in my life, Jackie held back the jokes. Instead, she hugged me and helped me pull dry clothes from the dryer. I threw my soaking wet hair into a bun, tied one of Tag’s bandanas around it, threw on his red t-shirt, and shimmied into my cut off jeans.
Tag finished his errands and was gassing up the Ranger at a gas station while I purchased some snacks and drinks. I got some salty peanuts, a granola bar, and a surprise for Tag. As I paid the clerk, a roll of thunder moved through the sky, growing in intensity as it lingered above us. My heart, still soaring far above the clouds, hardly heard it.
Under the gas station awning, the wind whipped, blowing drops of rain sideways. Mist bathed me. Cars zooming by on the main drag pealed through standing puddles on the road. Tag was screwing the gas cap back when I stepped up to the Ranger.
Lightning flashed, and Tag’s gaze darted beyond me to the clouds, then back to my face with the most relaxed smile I’d ever seen him wear.
“Guess what?” I swiveled back and forth, trying to be irresistible. “I got you something.”
His brows lifted in amusement as I dug into the plastic bag draped over my arm.
“I found”—I pulled out the can—“the world’s most useless Coke.” I swiped a dramatic hand over it as if I was filming a commercial. “Caffeine free and sugar free.”
“Wow. Thanks.” He chuckled, taking it from me and turning it to look at the label. “I was probably a teenager the last time I had a Coke.”
“Which is crazy to me. I know you aren't into sweet stuff, but everyone enjoys a Coke now and then.”
Ten minutes later, the Ranger bumped up Meadowbrook’s gravel drive. Rain, torrential now, beat the truck and almost drowned the sound of the country music station Tag always had the radio tuned to. To my surprise, Tag threw the truck in park and idled in the middle of the driveway when the barn was still out of sight.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I popped a handful of peanuts into my mouth .
“As soon as I pull up, there’s gonna be a thousand things to take care of. I want to sit with you a few more minutes.” He reached over and palmed my bare thigh, incinerating my insides. “Are there more peanuts?”
“Yep.” I leaned forward to dig through the plastic bag on the floor board. “Here you go.”
“Thanks. I’m starvin’.” Quietly, we ate a few bites, enjoying our last minutes alone. He pointed toward the pond. “Pond’s gonna be nice and fresh. We should night swim.”
Tag reached to the cup holder and grabbed the Coke. One-handed, he popped the tab.
Pop.
He lifted the Coke to his lips, sipped.
I lifted my Coke, too. “I like that idea except for snakes. Aren’t they worse at night?”
He didn’t immediately reply.
I took a deep sip, the fizzling burn in my throat refreshing me. Then I dug to the bottom of my bag of peanuts, shaking out the last few crumbs. “Tag? Aren’t snakes worse at night?”
Lightning flashed.
I looked over to Tag and my heart, just soaring in the sky, dropped hard and fast to the earth.
He had blanched white as a ghost.
“Whoa. You okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
The echoing thunder rolled overhead.
“You look awful. Your face is white. Are you lightheaded?”
“Um, a little.” He took another very slow sip of his Coke then looked at it with a grimace, like he was trying to figure it out. Suddenly, he hit the automatic window button, rolling it down. Rain pelted into the vehicle. The cool water dosed him, but he didn’t even flinch.
“What are you doing?!”
He dropped the Coke out of the window then rolled the window back up. I puffed in disbelief, my jaw hanging at his weird behavior.
When he spoke again, his tone had completely changed. From the voice I knew to something distant, small, and monotone. “That—that tasted sweet. Sickeningly sweet.”
“That’s weird. Lean your seat back. I’m afraid you’re going to pass out.”
He reached down, fumbling with the lever until his seat clicked back. The cab of the truck was so tiny, you could hardly call it reclined. I reached over and touched his rain-streaked face, letting my hand skim up his stubbled jaw. I gently turned his face toward me. His gaze rolled to mine as his shaking turned full body, a shudder cascading from the top of his head to his feet. He took one reactive suck of oxygen like someone had pressed an ice pack against his chest. I startled with him.
“Tag?”
He looked at me, but not at me. Through me. Like he was gone. Vacant .
That was when my adrenaline activated, dumping stores of hormones into my veins.
“What the hell? Tag, talk to me. You’re scaring me.” My voice shook. I leaned closer to tap his cheeks. He blinked in response but didn’t seem aware of me anymore.
He nodded, mumbled, “alright” like he was having a conversation with someone else.
“Tag, please.” My throat squeezed.
I shook his shoulder, feeling completely helpless.
“Tag, wake up.” It was like he’d fallen into a dream with his eyes wide open. Theories flew through my head. Did Tag have a peanut allergy I didn’t know about? Some condition? I picked up my phone to dial 9-1-1 and the battery died in my hands. I cussed out loud. I frantically searched the truck, but I didn't find Tag’s. I hadn’t seen him with it. Maybe he left it in his room?
“Tag, can you move?”
No response.
“If you can get into the passenger’s seat, I’ll drive us home.”
Nothing. He was fully awake, moving, looking around even. Just completely unresponsive.
A terrified sob flew from my lips. “Tag, please. ”
For two long minutes, we sat there; Tag staring out the windshield, nodding occasionally; me crying, useless to help him. My eyes scanned the dark rain beyond us, wondering where Jesse was. If I could find him, maybe he could help me. The barn was only a few minutes jog.
“Tag, I’m coming back, okay? I promise. I’m going to find Jesse.”
I threw open the door and charged into the rain.
“Jesse!” The yell hurt my throat. “Jesse!”
My Converse had rubbed a wet blister into the back of my foot, water squishing in and out of my socks with every step through the barnyard. The rain blinded me. I screamed again, “Jesse!”
The heavy rain muted the response. “Bea?!”
His figure appeared in the backlit doorway of the barn, coming toward me. He met me in the barnyard, the downpour leaving blood red drops on his red shirt. He caught me by the elbows as my city treads lost traction in the mud around the barn. He snapped. “What’s wrong?”
“Tag. It’s Tag.” He directed me back toward the barn doors, his hand gripping my forearm. I gasped to steady my breathing, the run leaving me winded.
When we were out of the downpour, he turned to me. “What happened? Is he hurt?”
Cade and Cooper appeared from the stalls, pitchforks in hand.
“We’re parked down the driveway and something happened…I don’t know what…but he’s like completely spaced out.” My voice didn’t accurately portray how panicked I felt. My insides were exploding with fear. “He won’t talk to me, look at me, anything. And he was completely fine a few minutes ago.”
Jesse shook his head. “Get in the gator.”
The gator was parked in the open-air corridor off the side of the barn. Jesse called over his shoulder. “Cade, go check on Miss Jackie and help her with dinner ‘til I get back. Cooper, finish mucking. ”
We roared down the drive in the roofless cart, the rain stinging my cheeks.
Immediately, Jesse approached Tag’s door and jerked it open. “Hey, man, you okay?”
Nothing had changed.
Lightning flashed, but the roll of thunder was further away. In fact, the rain was waning too.
I launched myself back into the passenger’s seat to be close to him, my clothes leaving wet streaks all over the place.
“You with us at all?” Jesse stood in the rain, leaning into the truck. He gave Tag’s arm a firm squeeze and gentle shake.
“Should we call 9-1-1?”
Jesse shook his head. “No.”
“You think he’ll be okay then?”
Jesse nodded. “He will. He—he does this sometimes.”
“What?!” I looked to Tag’s handsome face again and saw something that blasted me back to the past. Something that jerked me out of the confusion.
Tears.
Silent tears had trailed down his face. I reached up to gently wipe them away. The sense of dejavu was so strong, so real, so present in my body that I thought I was going to be sick. Like a fast-forwarded movie, the night in the hayloft played out in my mind.
The boot falling.
The trembling boy.
His quiet plea for me not to call help.
His tears on my fingers.
The scrape of our callouses.
The nicknames.
His notebook of words.
I looked at his pain on my hand and my vision blurred.
Like second instinct, I placed my hand over my left breast, soaking his tears straight into my heart. Tag said he struggled with panic. Was this it? Was this a panic attack? No way.
I imagined the man I loved doing this his entire life.
Why? Why so much suffering ?
I interrupted Jesse’s attempts at intervening. “Is he—he having a panic attack?”
Jesse’s eyes flicked to mine from under the rim of his hat. “I—don’t think it’s panic, Bea.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m—I’m not a doctor. I shouldn’t?—”
“I know you’re not diagnosing him, Jesse. I just want your thoughts.”
He took a deep breath, leaning a little deeper into the cab, one hand on the back of Tag’s seat, the other on the roof of the truck. “I know he calls them panic attacks, but I really don’t think that’s what they are.” He gathered a deep breath. “I fully believe Tag has PTSD.”
“ What ?” That seemed so…extreme. I knew very little about the topic except for the fact that war veterans sometimes developed it. “From what?”
“That’s where your guess is as good as mine. I know a little about his history, but not enough to draw any conclusions.”
“So you’ve seen him do this before?”
“Definitely. He’s not usually this bad though.”
“What should we do?”
“I think the best thing we can do is help him come back to the present. The rain might help.” Jesse reached forward to unbuckle Tag’s seatbelt.
I was desperately trying to keep up, to sort through what was happening and be helpful. Back to the present ? What did that even mean?
A snippet of our hayloft conversation barreled into my awareness like another clap of thunder.
“I feel like there’s a story. About rain.”
“No!”
Jesse froze.
“Not the rain.” Surprised by my own vehemence, I backpedaled. “Sorry, I—just don’t put him in the rain. He…he doesn’t like rain.”
“Any suggestions then?”
A few more pieces of Tag’s puzzle clicked into place. This was exactly what happened in the hayloft that night. My music helped him.
“Music.”
Where was Glory when I needed her? I could try to sing but my throat was so tight with stress, I doubted I could. Fumbling like an idiot, I pressed random buttons on the console until the radio came on. All the presets were on freaking commercials and talk radio.
Jesse talked quietly to Tag while I tried to get my crap together.
Just sing, Bea!
I could hardly swallow. There was no way I could sing.
Finding the CD player, I tapped eject. A warm, silver CD pushed out into my waiting fingers with a quiet hum. I recognized the label before it was even fully out.
My silly, bubbly handwriting in permanent marker.
“Happy birthday, Scribbs.”
Overcome with emotions I didn’t have time to process, I swiped a hand over my trembling lips. How did he still have this? Did he listen to it?
Tears stormed down my cheeks as I pressed it back into the player and adjusted the speaker volume. My young voice, canned and underdeveloped, filled the cab. The rain was on its way out, the claps of thunder delayed.
I draped myself over the console to get closer to him. Tag was blinking, nodding, still in another place far, far away. Slipping my hand into his, I squeezed. “I promise, I’m not leaving you. Try to focus on me, okay?”
Jesse whispered, “You’re going to be alright, man. Just hang on tight.”
A few minutes felt like years. Damming up my emotions, I found my voice and weakly sang along with the younger, braver version of myself. I’d included American Pie on his birthday CD. In unison, the past and present sang for him.
I leaned forward to kiss Tag’s forehead. “Come back to me, Tag.” I looked straight into his eyes again, the stormy gray hazy and exhausted. “Can you hear me?”
He swallowed once. Then nodded .
I sucked in a breath of relief. “I’m right here.”
His hand tightened around mine.
“I love you so much. I’m not going anywhere.”
He nodded, a little more presence in his gaze.
“Can you still see me?”
He nodded again, the motion more assured. His voice was quiet, still small. “Bea.”
I sniffled, loud and wet. “Yes. It’s Bea.”
I felt as though he would slip through my fingers into a realm of oblivion at any given moment if I didn’t clutch him with all my might. I held his hand, gripped his face, and spoke words over his lips. Like the waxing moon, he returned. One sliver at a time.
Except he never fully did.
A while later, I drove the Ranger back to the house, Jesse following me in the gator. Tag sat in the passenger’s seat, quietly staring out the window. He gently scratched up and down his forearm, the motion on repeat. His fingers traveled up, then scraped down loud enough for me to wonder if it was painful. Clearly an attempt at soothing.
The rain was gone now, a heavy humidity taking its place. Gray clouds oppressed the ranch, the long distance views hampered in the aftermath of the storm. The usual cheer and bright sunshine found at Meadowbrook felt like another life.
I parked. “Do you need help walking?”
A few seconds went by before he even acknowledged me. He turned his head, finally responding. “No, I got it.”
“You want to come in the house for a while?”
Another delay. “I got work to do.”
“I think you should?—”
“I’m alright. I, um, I need the horses.” Scratch, scratch. “They help me.”
I nodded. “Okay. What can I do?”
“Nothin’.”
As Tag made his way to the barn, I found Jesse parking the gator. “Jesse, we can’t let him go work like this.”
“We can and we should.”
“What? Why? ”
“It’s how he copes, Bea.”
“You mean when he’s done this before?”
“Yeah, he’ll work like a mule over the next few days, maybe weeks. I’ll have to…be more aware about details, make sure gates are closed, stuff like that. Then he’ll start feeling better.”
“Weeks? I’m so damn confused. I don’t understand what just happened. Tag seemed like he was in a freaking trance!”
“Look, I don’t have answers for you. I’m just explaining what usually happens. When he has an episode, he works it off after a while.”
“He needs rest! He needs to be with people, not animals, and see a doctor.”
“Tag doesn’t have people.”
“He has you and me.”
“I’m his employee and you’ve been in his life a grand total of three weeks. That’s a far cry from having people you know and trust to help you in a crisis. This ranch and the horses are all he’s ever had.”
Jesse seemed so resigned to this. How could I possibly leave? Go home with him like this? Would he be better tomorrow? Would he smile before I left? My heart was imploding, panicking so hard I thought I might faint.
My voice wobbled. “We need to help him.”
Jesse turned toward me and grabbed my shoulders. “Bea, listen to me. You’re freaking the hell out and you need to calm down. I suspect Tag has dealt with this the majority of his life. I agree he needs to see a doctor, but if you think you’re going to be able to follow him and twist his arm into an ER trip, you’re mistaken.” Jesse’s usual relaxed smile was gone, his lips a serious line on his face. “Let him be. If he wants to work himself into the ground to find purpose, let him. This is what he loves.”
I don’t understand.
More tears stormed my eyes, and I stamped my foot in frustration. “This is insane. We should be treating whatever glitch Tag just had like a medical emergency.” I turned on my heel to exit the corridor.
“Bea!” I turned back to see him approaching me. He gave the barn doors a sideways glance and lowered his voice. “I’ve been working on this ranch almost three and a half years. In all that time, not one person has showed up for Tag. Not on holidays, not on his birthday, not to celebrate his success, not to help him when he needed it. No one. Cooper only comes around when he’s in trouble or needs a hand-out. His cousin is the only person who at least picks up the phone to make sure he’s still alive now and then. Tag has zero concept of being supported by other people. If you go out there”—he pointed to the pastures—“and try to mother him, you’ll push him away.”
Like a vacuum, his words sucked the determination from my spirit. Jesse wasn't wrong. The little things I’d done for Tag throughout my time here were novelties to him—firsts. Having someone put a sandwich on a plate was brand new.
My words were hardly a whisper. “What do I do then?”
“Nothing. You let him cope his way, let him work, and then maybe, when he’s feeling better, you talk to him about things like seeing the doctor.”
“How will I know when he’s feeling better?”
“Trust me. You’ll know.”