Til Death Do Us Part || Tate Langdon

mommy issues

      He took your hand in his and turned toward the house, "Come on. I'm gonna tell you everything."

   You nodded with a small smile, before you two heard a woman's unpleasant voice call behind you, "Tate."

   You  both turned at the same time to see Constance standing at the end of the walkway, cigarette in hand and glaring at you disapprovingly. You swallowed nervously, and Tate's grip on your hand tightened.

   "Constance," you said innocently, attempting to ease or at least ignore the tension. "I didn't know you were home."

   She didn't even acknowledge you, only looked daggers at the boy holding your hand then said, "Think about the consequences of what you're about to do: the situation you may cause."

   You looked confusedly at Tate, who didn't budge at all. He finally said, "I trust her."

Constance took a drag of her cigarette and shook her head slowly at both of you as he led you into the dark house and closed the door.

2013, third grade

      You sat next to Tate on the short but bumpy bus ride to school in the last month of the school year. Next year he'd be moving up to middle school, and it made you anxious to think of the two of you being in separate classrooms for the first time. At least once a week he would pick you another tiny bundle of the wild Sky Lupine that grew on the little hill next to the playground's blacktop, and you'd keep them at your desk 'til they died. You wondered if you'd still get them once he was a big shot middle schooler.

   "What's wrong?" He asked, noticing your unease.

    You shrugged, "Just thinking about next year I guess. It's gonna be weird."

   "Yeah..." he agreed sadly. "But maybe we can call each other in the summer. And I'll see you in just three months in September."

   "That's a really really long time away," you pouted; back then it was. All of a sudden he looked troubled too.

   "You think you'll forget me while we're apart?"

   "No way," you denied. "But what if you move to middle school and get too cool for me?"

   He shot you an expressionless glance and said, "Look at me. You think I'd ever be too cool for you?"

   "No," you giggled. "Can we just promise to always be friends?"

   He took your hand in his with an encouraging smile, "Promise. 'Til death do us part."

You looked up at him admiringly, and hoped in your head you'd always stay close and get to hangout forever.

NOVEMBER 2023

      You sat at the end of Tate's bed as he repeatedly switched between pacing the floor and checking nervously out the window, assumingly for Constance.

   Your eyes followed him back and forth until you finally said impatiently, "Tate. What is wrong? What happened?"

   He turned to you, biting the inside of his cheek anxiously, but didn't answer.

   "Is it that bad?" you stood. "You said you could trust me a few minutes ago, and you can. Whatever it is." You grabbed his hand reassuringly, and it seemed to ease his stress a little. He rubbed over the back of your hand with his thumb and glanced out the window one last time before gesturing for you to both sit back on his bed.

   "I-It's my mom," he began nervously. "She doesn't live here. Hasn't for a while."

   "What? Why?"

   He took a nervous gulp before admitting, "She moved out... after she killed my dad."

   You felt yourself pale, and you couldn't help but let your mouth fall open. You couldn't formulate a though, let alone a sentence.

   Tate studied your face nervously, "Say something. Are you okay?"

   You inhaled deeply and tried to collect yourself, then nodded, "Yeah. I'm okay. Go on."

   "We had a part-time housekeeper," he started in a downhearted tone. "And one day, my mom got off work early. Came home to surprise my dad with lunch and... literally caught them in the act."

   Sympathy and concern were all over your face, "My god. So... then what'd she do?"

   "She told the housekeeper she was fired, obviously, and to get the hell out. So she did," he picked nervously at the skin around his fingers; this couldn't be an easy story for him to tell. "And once she was gone, my dad was apologizing, telling her it didn't mean anything, you know, the basics. And before either of them knew it, my mom grabbed the gun out of their bedside drawer. Shot him three times in the chest."

   "Shit," you had no other words. You rubbed a spot on his back hoping it'd comfort him. "I'm really sorry."

   "That's not the part I care about anymore," he said flatly. "It was a shock at first but, he was cheating in their bed. Plus he used to hit me before I could even defend myself."

   You pondered his words for a minute, and supposed that if he was okay with it, so were you.

   "Alright..." you said calmly. "So you live here alone?"

   He nodded disappointedly.

   "What does that have to do with you missing the bonfire?" you asked as gently as you could. "And why doesn't your mom want me around?"

   "She never, ever lets me leave," he muttered, avoiding your gaze. "Once she told me what she'd done to Hugo, I became a prisoner. She was, is, so worried that I'll let her secret out, that I'm kept like a caged animal in this house. She's always watching. She doesn't want you around because she doesn't want you to find out everything I just told you."

   "That's so fucked up," you protested offendedly. "She can't do that Tate, it's not fair."

   He shrugged as if there were nothing that could be done. You racked your brain a little before finally landing on an idea, and a proud smile spread across your face as you said, "Let's run away together."