Call Me Crazy (9 page)

“Oh, hey Tally.” He looks up from his magazine with a warm smile and then his eyes land on the figure behind me.

Before he can say anything more I blurt out, “This is Trey and we are just going to sit outside and talk. You know how
Aunt
Candy doesn’t like me to leave during the day, even though I come and
visit
her every day. We aren’t going any further than the bench there.” I point to the wooden bench across from the doors. Zeke’s eyes keep jumping from my face to Trey’s. I’m pleading with my eyes for him to just go along with my story. I guess my face must have conveyed my desperation because he finally answers, “Alright, if Candy, or anyone else, happens to ask for you I’ll just let them know that you haven’t
left
for the day just yet.”

I let out a quiet sigh of relief and mouth, “Thank you.”

Zeke gives me a slight nod of his head and then turns back to his magazine and as I push out of the door I can’t help but notice the slight smile on his lips.

Ch
apter 6

“Have you ever wished you could fast fo
rward? As I stare into her blue-grey eyes, all I can think is how I wish we were beyond the awkward phase and to the part where I have the right, the privilege to hold her, to kiss her, to call her mine.” ~Trey

I know that I must be making her feel uncomfortable as I stare at her, but all I can think is how I want to memorize every feature, every facial expression, so that I can bring her perfectly to mind later when she is no longer before me.
Creepy much, Trey
, I think to myself.

“So you just moved here?” She asks me as she sits down next to me on the wooden bench.

“Yes, we moved here from Arizona.”

“You like it?”

I smile slightly as I look into her eyes. “More and more each day.” I love the flush on her skin. I love how she isn’t sure how to take compliments, no matter how subtle.

“You don’t beat around the bush do you?” She asks coyly.

I even love how she calls me out. Yes, I have it bad and it’s only the second time I’ve talked with her.

“Not when I see something I want. Life is too short, and too unpredictable, to leave things to chance.” I watch her closely, needing to see her reaction to my words, wondering if I’m pushing to fast and too hard.

“I guess I can understand that,” she finally answers.

“So what’s your story, Tally,” I let my words trail off as I hope that she will give me her full name.

“Baker, Tally Baker.”

I notice her voice shake just a bit and watch as she twists her hands in her lap. Have I asked the wrong question? I wasn’t trying to pry, but I desperately wanted to know more about her.

“I’m not trying to be nosy,” I tell her hoping she will hear the sincerity in my voice.

“It’s alright. I…well,” she stops and takes a breath letting it out slowly. “I’m seventeen and will be a senior this year.”

Okay, vague, but at least it’s something.

“Do you have any hobbies or a job?”

She grins. “I use to be an assistant pet photographer.”

She must see the question on my face as she lets out a small laugh.

“Basically I dressed the dogs, or cats, up in cute little outfits and then posed them for the photographer to take pictures of them.”

“People really brought
their pets to you for these kinds of pictures?”

She nods her head. “Yep. Mostly really rich people with no kids.”

“Did you enjoy it?” I ask.

She thinks about it for a second before answering.

“Yeah I did. It was fun, and I really enjoy animals. Do you have a job?  She asks as she leans down and plucks a piece of dead grass from the ground. I watch in stupid fascination as her small hands play with the blade. Something so insignificant, and yet all I can think about it how I wish her hands were on me instead of the lucky little piece of grass.

“I actually just got a job as a ranch hand.”

Her face lights up and I feel my breath catch at the sudden ray of light that she has bestowed upon me.

“So you get to be around horses and stuff?” She is nearly bouncing in her seat.

I chuckle as I nod my head. “Yeah, but it’s not as glamorous as you are thinking. I will be mucking out their stalls.”

“Still, you will get to see horses.” She says wistfully.

“Have you never seen a horse?”

She shakes her head. “Not up close. I mean I’ve seen them out in pastures when driving out in the country, but I’ve never gotten to touch one.”

I realize then just how different our lives must have been growing up. I had grown up around horses. We had several on our reservation. In fact, horses were considered sacred to our tribe as they had served our people for generations, taking them through dangerous times and often saving them when traveling on foot would have meant death or capture.

“Maybe I can take you out to the ranch. I’ll ask Mr. Taggert. I imagine he will be fine with it.” If I thought her face had been bright before, now it was practically glowing.

“Really?”

I raise my brow at her. “I told you, life is too short to pass up opportunities. When would you like to go?” Just as quickly as her face had lit up, it suddenly fell. Again I find myself wondering what I have said wrong.

“Oh, well it will have to be later, maybe when summer is over.” She answers, again vaguely.

I decide that I won’t push her now, maybe after we’ve known each other a little longer.

“Alright, we can revisit it later.”

She looks up, obviously surprised that I didn’t press her from more information. I watch as her shoulders relax.

“So what’s
your
story?” She asks, her head turned slightly to the side and her forehead wrinkled in question.

“What do you want to know?”

“Well,” she begins, “you are obviously Native American,”

“Obviously,” I interrupt with a crooked smile.

She rolls her eyes at me. “What kind?”

I let the humor I feel from her question show on my face as I lean back against the bench and stretch my arms across the back of it.

“You mean what tribe?”

“Um, well if that’s the correct way to ask, then yes, what tribe?”

“I’m White Mountain Apache,” I tell her. “My tribe is in North Western Arizona.”

“Wasn’t it hard to leave?”

I think about it. I think about my friends and my family I left behind and realize that since I met Tally, I hadn’t missed them.

“At first, yes,” I agree. “But not so much now.”

“Are you about to make one of your, I’m not going to beat around the bush, statements?” Again I watch as heat floods her skin.

“Does it bother you?” And I realize then that even if it does, I have no plans to change my approach. I don’t want her to have any question of my intentions.

“It’s just different from most guys our age. They aren’t usually quite so bold.” She explains.

“Most guys fear rejection.”

Her eyes narrow at me. “And you don’t?”

“There are worst things in life than rejection.” I see the moment that thoughts of my mother run through her mind as her face softens and her eyes drop.

“Yes, there are.”

Something in her voice catches my attention, and I realize that its knowledge and understanding. Tally has experienced something worse than rejection, but I don’t yet have the right to ask what that something is.

“To answer your question, a certain girl has taken my mind off of those I have left behind on the reservation.”

She looks back up at me and to my relief, her smile has returned.

“One of those amazing horses is a female?”

Her teasing has caught me off guard. “Tally
Baker, you are trouble.” I laugh and enjoy her laughter mixing with my own. Something in that moment causes her to relax even more and rapid fire questions begin to flow from her.

Favorite color: Grey

Favorite artist/band: Coldplay

Greatest fear: Loss (of what?) anything.

Longest relationship: (this question brings a deep scarlet blush to her face) Only been on a few dates, no one I would claim as a girlfriend.

Favorite food: Italian

Two hours pass in the blink of an eye and when she asks me the time and I tell her it is two o’clock I find myself nearly begging her to stay when she jumps up.

“Oh crap,” she exclaims. “I have to go.”

“You need to leave?”

“Yes well…I mean no, I have to go with my Aunt to her therapy session with the doctor.”

“Oh, okay.” I couldn’t help but find it a little odd that she did so much with her aunt when no one had said anything to me about joining my mother in therapy or group sessions.

“Alright,” I tell her as I stand up. She turns to go back inside and once again I find myself reaching out and grabbing her hand.

“Will you be here tomorrow?”

She smiles like she has a secret and I would be a liar if I said I didn’t long to know what that secret is.

“Yes.” She answers simply.

“Can we do this again?” I motion towards the bench.

She glances back at the door and then to the bench and I can see that she is considering turning me down. Not going to happen.

“I’ll meet you here tomorrow at noon,” I tell her, taking the choice out of her hands. Her eyes narrow and she opens her mouth and I know that she is about to argue with me.

“Don’t you need to get
to that session with your aunt?” I ask her and smile.

She laughs. “Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turns and I let her hand go and watch as she hurries through the door. I stand there watching her, mesmerized by her graceful movemen
t and the gentle sway of her hips.

I had told her that I didn’t fear rejection, that there were greater things to be frightened of—I had lied. For the first time in my life I felt the dread of knowing that someone I was deeply attracted to and longed to know more would have no interest in me.

~

I find my mind continually drifting back to my time with Tally as I drive to the ranch. Mr. Taggert had agreed to allow me to work in the evenings. I wanted to be able to visit my mother during the day, and take care of any errands my grandmother might need me to do for her. I find as I’m mucking out the stalls with sweat trailing down my back that it is a perfect time for me to work off all the pent up energy from spending time with Tally.

I finally reach the fifth stall of the horse stable and, though the sky has begun to darken, the air is just as hot as it has been all day. I grab the leads of each of the horses and go to gather them up and put them in their respective stalls. With the last horse locked safely away, I look in through the slats. This one is my favorite, Rosa, a female Bay, with sorrel colored hair and a black main and tail. She is very affectionate and often stands at the edge of the stable watching me as I work. I try to imagine what Tally’s face will look like when she meets her. I hope that her face lights up as it did today, giving me a break from the shadows that have begun to be my constant companions. A brief flash of my mother’s face enters my mind and I wish that it was the face from my childhood. That face was beginning to fade, replaced by the lost stare of glazed over eyes and the slack mouth that didn’t seem to remember how to smile.

Once in my truck, I roll down the windows but I keep the radio off. My muscles are tired and sore, but it’s a good feeling, a feeling that tells me I have put in a hard day’s work. I take comfort in knowing that my father would have been proud of the job that I am doing, caring for the animals that give so selflessly of themselves and not settling for a meaningless job regardless of my age. I find it interesting that Tally and I both work with animals, and though I am not one to believe in destiny, I wonder if it is a sign. My people believe that our ancestors who have passed on watch over us, their spirits guiding us. Maybe my father’s spirit was indeed watching over me, and just maybe he was guiding me to my future, to Tally.

Chapter 7

“If I wasn’t crazy before, I definitely am now. My heart is filled with possibilities, but my mind is filled with reality and it’s telling my head to wake up and get a freaking clue. Meanwhile, I’m walking around smiling like a damn fool and it’s not because of the little pills I take like candy. No, this drug is living, breathing, and so very, very addictive.”

~Tally

I have no idea what time it is when the knock comes. I rub my eyes groggily and drag myself from the bed. Before I make it to the door it opens slowly and the wide eyed face of Candy pops into my room.

“Hey lover girl,” she grins at me.

“Candy, what time is it?” I growl.

She swings the door open all of the way and grabs my wrist. She catches me off guard and I stumble forward. Did I mention crazy people are crazy strong? Well, they are, so take note of that if you are ever faced with a deranged psychopath.