Page 59 of Tainted Love

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.