Chapter 7

I stood there for what seemed seven or eight eons trying to figure out what had just happened, and why. Finally I took a deep breath, threw the blanket over my shoulder and started walking home. Fifteen long miles home.

I'd covered maybe three or four of those fifteen, working up more of a mad with every step, when I heard a horn. I turned and saw a Smart car pull up behind me. When I looked in I saw Kermit Wilson. Of all my schoolmates, he's the one person I wasn't surprised to see driving one of those glorified roller skates. He'd always been the conservation-type in school.

"Hi, Froggie."

"What's up, Tommy? I didn't expect to see you walking along the side of the road way out here. Car trouble?"

"No, girl trouble."

"You need a ride? I'm on my way to the campus so I can't take you all the way home, but you're welcome for part of the trip."

"I'm living near the campus now, so that'd be great." At least I HOPED I was still welcome at the duplex. Or did I?

"How'd you get stuck out here?"

I spent a few minutes giving him an expurgated version of the night's happenings. I didn't mention the ring or the slap, but the side of my face was a dead giveaway. Kermit didn't pry, so the rest of the trip was spent catching up on what our classmates were up to since graduation.

When he dropped me off I saw my Jeep in the driveway. The doors were unlocked but at least the keys weren't still in the ignition. I let myself into the duplex and walked back to the bedroom, only to find the door shut. I could hear Beth crying and debated barging in and having it out with her right now but I was angry enough that I'd probably say the wrong thing and just make matters worse, if that was possible.

I decided to grab my stuff for school, my computer and my clothes. The rest of the stuff I could pick up tomorrow.

As I hauled my computer out I was a little disappointed that Beth hadn't come out. I'd made enough noise that she had to know I'd been there so apparently she didn't want to talk.

I drove back to my folks' house, wondering as I drove how I was going to explain what had happened. As I drove my anger came back. I was beginning to think that maybe Willy had been right—the rich just didn't understand the rest of us and I'd be better off without her. But if that was true, why did I feel so lousy?

"Tommy? What are you doing here?" my dad asked when I knocked on the door.

"Beth and I had an argument and I want to get my old room back, if I can."

"That's going to be tough," my dad replied. "Kevin took over your room the week after you moved. If you want to stay here, you're going to have to stay in his old room. There's no bed, you'll have to scrounge a sleeping bag from the basement."

Perfect. What else could go wrong tonight?

"Tommy, what did you do?" Obviously Dad had talked to Mom.

"Mom, I don't really know. We were at the farm and all of a sudden I was there by myself."

"Well, you must have done something." Me? Why was it always my fault?

"Mom, I honestly don't think I did anything. Something is bothering Beth but I don't know what."

"You better figure it out. You don't want to lose Beth, do you?"

"No, but I think it's going to take some time to work out whatever is going on."

I might as well have stayed home that next day, my mind wasn't on school and it showed.

"Well, Mr. Randahl, do you know the answer or not?" Damn, Grossfeldt caught me with my mind a million—okay, five—miles away.

I gritted my teeth. This was going to hurt. "Sir, I'm afraid I missed the question."

"Really." How can one word carry so much weight?

"Mr. Randahl, when you first entered this program I knew your interest would not last. Photographers are dilettantes, not true artists, and you have proven this to me once again."

I bit my lip—there was no way I was going to try to explain my lack of attention.

"Very well, Mr. Randahl," Grossfeldt said as he turned to another member of the class. "If you cannot answer the question perhaps Miss Stewart will be able to."

I wasn't off the hook yet. If I'd learned anything in his class it was that Grossfeldt didn't forget—or forgive.

The rest of my classes were the same—I tried to pay attention, but my mind kept drifting back to the duplex and where to go from here.

By the time my last class was over the word had spread. Even though I hadn't told anyone, I started to see those looks—the ones that make you feel as if you had a fatal disease but no one had the guts to tell you.

I drove back to the duplex and started cleaning out the rest of my stuff. I'd have to rent a trailer to haul the big stuff out.

"Tommy, what's going on?" Greg came out just as I was packing the last armful of stuff into the Jeep.

"Greg, I'm moving back home. Beth and I had a fight last night and I guess we're not a couple any more."

"What! The two of you are perfect together. If you can't make it what chance do the rest of us have?"

"Greg, I'm hoping we'll get together again, but for now, well, I don't know what's going to happen.

"By the way, are you going to be around tomorrow afternoon? I'm going to get a trailer to cart the rest of my stuff home and I could use a hand if you're available."

"Sure, Tommy, but now I gotta go talk to Cindy." He ran back in the house and I could hear him charging up the stairs.

As I was pulling out of the driveway I saw Cindy looking out from the upstairs porch and wondered what she was thinking.

The following afternoon Greg and I were just finishing up loading my desk into the trailer when Beth pulled up. I was dreading the encounter. I didn't want to disappear like a thief in the night, but at the same time I knew this wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Tommy, what are you doing? I don't want you to go!" She sounded as if she was losing her best friend, not like the girl who'd slapped me and tossed my ring at me.

"Beth, after the other night do you expect me to stick around? I mean, what am I supposed to think? You tell me to fuck off, slap my head off, throw my ring back in my face, and on top of everything else, you stole my car!

"I think we need some time apart."

"I'm sorry, Tommy. I-I went a little crazy. Tommy, Dad's got cancer and I don't know what to do! He's supposed to see a specialist on Friday and find out how serious it is."

Cancer? Chuck? Suddenly things started to make sense—Chuck acting so preoccupied at dinner on Sunday, Beth's mood lately, and the way she'd treated Cindy and Greg.

"Beth, why didn't you tell me before? Did you just find out?"

"N-no, Dad told me a couple of weeks ago. I, I didn't want to, to ... oh, hell, I don't know why I didn't tell you!

"Please, Tommy, stay tonight?" She had a pleading look in her eyes that I'd never seen before.

I looked at that expression and really wanted to stay, but at the same time I knew we needed some time apart. But could I leave her hurting like this? Whatever had happened between us, she didn't deserve to be left alone.

ARGGH!

"Beth, I'll stay with you," Cindy said. I hadn't noticed, but she had joined Greg and must have seen the look on my face.

Beth's face was an interesting study in contrasts as her best friend walked over and hugged her—relief that she wasn't going to be alone and disappointment that I wasn't going to be there.

"Thanks, Cindy," I gave her a grateful look.

"Beth, I don't really want to do this, but I'm only going to get married once. Call it arrogance, or pig-headedness, or whatever you want, but I want to be sure before I take that big step and right now I'm not.

"And I don't think you are, either," I added quietly.

As I pulled out of the driveway, I glanced in the mirror and caught a glimpse of Beth with tears streaming down her cheeks as she hung on to Cindy. My gut felt like it was on fire as I drove home. Sleep was not quick in coming that night.

When I got home from school the next day I remembered to call George Stankovich. I'd sent him proofs of the convention shots and had cc'd copies to Jim and Dan so they could do a mock-up of the web page for him.

"Tommy, these look great. Your friends sent me their mockup and I'm meeting with them tomorrow to finalize everything. Can I have them contact you once we know which pictures we want?"

"Sure, George. I'll crop them to fit and send them to Dan and Jim, then they can finish the page and load it to the site. I'm glad you like the pictures."

"Tommy, I knew you'd come through for me. By the way, Cliff Thomas called me yesterday and was wondering if I'd seen any of the pictures you took when your girlfriend was on his ride. I told him I hadn't. You might want to give him a call."