Tristan Trilogy- Story 3

CHAPTER 77

Kevin stirred in his sleep, not so much from Tristan’s touch as from the honeysuckle scent of the lotion she had rubbed on her arms and legs after her shower. For several moments he remained still, content to wrap himself in her sweet touch and smell as he floated in the limbo that lay between sleep and wakefulness. Then suddenly, his eyes flew open in mild alarm.

“Are you alright?” he asked as he made an attempt to raise himself. “You hurtin’? You need another pill?”

“I’m okay…”

“You sure?”

Tristan smiled weakly as she nodded against her pillow. They were both tired and raw and neither wanted to begin the painful conversation that was unavoidable. They studied each other for a moment by the dim light pouring from the bathroom door that Tristan had left open. Kevin was searching her face, anticipating her questions as Tristan gazed into his eyes, looking for answers. The wordless exchange was disconcerting. They didn’t know what they could expect from each other. Finally, Tristan broke the silence.

“What happened, Kevin? Why do you have all of that stuff? I don’t understand. How long have you been using these things?”

Kevin sighed, rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. Jesus. Here we go…. He already felt defensive despite the fact that Tristan’s questions had been gentle and unassuming.

“Nothing ‘happened’, Tristan. I’m not an addict.” Kevin had punctuated the word ‘addict’ with a sarcastic tone. “This stuff was purely social – like booze. Please don’t make this into something it’s not…”

“Social?” Tristan puzzled. “I never saw it. When did you use it? Do the other guys use this stuff, too?”

“Christ… I don’t know what the others do or don’t do! We’re not attached at the hips! I used some of this stuff occasionally, that’s all. It’s not a big deal. I flushed it, okay? It’s gone. You don’t have to worry about that shit anymore.”

Kevin tried not to sound too agitated but even he noted the edge in his voice. So did Tristan.

“How long have you had that stuff? Have you always had it? Why did you hide it if it wasn’t a big deal? Have you ever used that cocaine and those other things when it wasn’t ‘social’ – when you’ve been by yourself?”

Kevin pushed himself up into a sitting position, clearly disturbed not only by the line of questioning but by the relentlessness of it. Tristan deserved answers but her questions seemed accusing. Kevin felt like he was on trial and his snapping response only inflated the tension that had developed between them.

“Why are you cross-examining me, Tris?” Kevin barked as he assumed an offensive position. “What – you have an intervention team waiting outside the door to haul me away to some twelve step program somewhere? Do you see track marks in my arms? “ His voice rose as he stretched his arms out as if inviting her to examine his body for telltale bruises or puncture marks. “Jesus…!” he huffed.

Tristan winced at his anger and fought back tears at his outburst. It was her turn to speak. She could either cower at his indignation, back off and apologize for insulting him or she could ignore his attempt to intimidate her and make her feel ignorant. Tristan took a breath and chose the latter. She didn’t want to fight but she felt that she couldn’t let Kevin manipulate this discussion, either.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel that way, Kevin,” she answered softly. “This was just a shock to me, that’s all. We’ve been together for years now and I never knew about any of this. Did I miss it? Did I choose not to see it or did you hide it from me?”

“You mean like you hid the birth control pills?” he hissed.

Tristan’s eyes widened in shock. How could he compare these two things? One had nothing to do with the other… “I told you, that I wasn’t trying to keep that from you. I already explained that. If you were worried, why didn’t you ask me about it? Why are you keeping things from me? I just want you to tell me what’s wrong and you’re changing the subject.” Tristan bit her lip and reached for his hand. “I love you Kevin…. And you’re scaring me….”

Kevin let his head fall back against the headboard as he felt Tristan’s fingers fold themselves around his palm. He wished he had one of those Vicodin right now. His temper was getting the better of him but he struggled to remain calm. Goddamn! Why is she being such a nag about this? Let it go, for shit’s sake! I’m a grown man and don’t need her grilling me like I’m a child… He turned to look at her then and saw the fear in her eyes. He had expected to see condemnation. He also caught a brief glimpse of the innocence that rarely surfaced anymore. Kevin knew in that moment that Tristan would believe anything he told her that was remotely reasonable. She wanted to believe him that badly. It was true – she was scared. Kevin felt the edges of his heart soften once more.

“Come ‘here, baby…” he nodded as he pulled her against his chest.

His chin rested on the top of her head as he wrapped his arms around her as pulled the sheet up over their bodies. When she had settled herself against him, he began to speak, stoking her hair and back between sentences.

“I didn’t mean to fuss with you. It’s just been one hell of a night, you know?” He waited until he felt the side of her head nod in agreement and then continued. “First of all, please don’t ever take it for granted that I know what’s going on…” Kevin made a small sound in his throat – his attempt at a chuckle. “…You have to spell things out for me sometimes – like the birth control business. I guess we both made assumptions about that, right?” Again, he felt Tristan’s face move against him. “If you want to wait before we try to have another baby, that’s fine. I was just surprised. I took those pills personally, if you can understand that.”

Tristan nodded once more. She could understand, all right. Although she suspected that Kevin would be delighted if she popped out a baby every year, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if something happened that would prevent them from having anymore children. It wasn’t the ‘birth’ part that had affected Kevin so deeply – it was the ‘control’ part. He hadn’t had any control over this. He had felt totally out of the loop. That, in itself, could lead him into a frustrated anger based on a lack of trust. His natural insecurities would lead him down an anxious path, riddled with incorrect perceptions. Already, the picture in Tristan’s mind was becoming clearer and she could imagine where Kevin’s thoughts could have led him - She doesn’t want to get pregnant…. She doesn’t want to have anymore children…. She doesn’t want to have anymore children with me…. Maybe she would want to with someone else…. Tristan felt him squeeze her shoulder affectionately before her went on.

“Back in the early days, I went to parties and clubs all the time – especially in Europe. Coke was always there. It just was, that’s all. It was open and available. Everybody was doing it, so I tried it, too. I never used that much. It just wasn’t a big deal.”

“Have you always…”

“Let me finish this, okay?” he interrupted. “Then, for a long time, I only messed with alcohol. I’m not saying I never got drunk, but it’s not like I drank all the time. I didn’t have the time or inclination to score drugs and all. We were just too damn busy and the work was too important to me to fuck with.” Kevin sighed as he thought about the others. “Some of the guys played with this shit, too. Not Nick, and for a long time, not AJ either. They were younger and that brought legal ramifications. Pot was common but that was mild – almost expected. I’ve smoked pot for years, Tris. I’ll admit that. Maybe in a way I was hiding it. I didn’t want you to jump to conclusions and I didn’t think you’d understand. You just…. live in a different place, you know?”

Tristan raised her chin and looked into Kevin’s eyes.

“I didn’t see the world like you did, Kevin. That’s a fact, but when I got older and finally left home, I learned some things. I’m a musician, too – remember? Classical artists smoke weeds, too…” Kevin’s eyebrows shot up. She was being very serious. Weeds..? “I can’t say that the idea of marijuana shocks me. I was around it and it didn’t bother me as long as it didn’t affect performances.” Tristan paused as her mind wandered back in time. “People would offer it to me but I think it was more because they wanted to see if I would make an ass of myself if I was tight, not because they were being generous…” Tight..? “I didn’t feel close enough to them to risk revealing myself, I guess…”

Kevin listened carefully to Tristan’s confession. Part of him was amused, even under these circumstances, at her choice of words. It was obvious that she was not naïve, but her language divulged her lack of experience in the underground world of illegal substances. But a larger part of him was touched by her guilelessness. He felt very protective of her at that moment and silently hoped she would never completely lose that quality. He suppressed a smile and stifled an urge to correct her when he gazed at him with great sincerity and seriousness as she spoke again.

“Kevin… the weeds don’t really bother me, as long as the kids are kept away from it. I’m not a prude or anything….”

“I know, baby…”

“It’s the other stuff…”

“That’s gone, Tris. I got rid of it.”

“That stuff scares me, Kevin. It can get out of control…”

“I know…”

“You had a lot of stuff in that pouch…”

“I’d had that stuff for years, Tris. It’s no big deal. It’s gone. It’s not like I needed that shit. I took a pill or two on the road, but we’re really not planning anymore big scale tours. No reason for me to use it. I’m fine without it.”

“You’ve lost weight. You seem edgy more often. Is that because of the drugs?”

Kevin felt himself bristle but maintained control. “No. That’s because the group has no real direction right now. We’re talking some and writing some new stuff. We’re making a few plans. I’ve been a little worried, that’s all.”

“Kevin?” Tristan hesitated to ask but felt she had to. She needed to hear this from his mouth. “Will you leave the pills and cocaine alone? Please?”

His intentions were good, at least in his mind, when he answered her. And his reply was made with an honest conviction. “Baby, I got rid of everything except for a little pot. There’s nothing else in the house. I don’t need it and you’ll never see it again…”

*****

Although Kevin never made any actual promises, he did make an effort to stay clean. He stopped taking his pills and Tristan stopped taking hers. Their lives began to develop a degree of normalcy. Kevin spent time in the studio with the group and also with new artists. He was doing more production work now and was also writing more. He spent time at the gym when he could and made a point to spend time with his children. There were no great catastrophes. There was no touring, either. Backstreet spent time recording and rehearsing, made appearances on television shows and award presentations. Kevin smoked dope with the same frequency he always had, sometimes with his bandmates, and was no stranger to his JD or beer. However, snorting coke was a rare occurrence and never happened when he was with Tristan. At those times, he rationalized that he had never actually promised that he would leave it alone, even though a promise was implied.

Nick and Holly were as happy as clams. The panic over Nick’s marriage subsided more quickly than expected but Holly still got her share of hate mail. Tristan had come home one day to find a note attached to gate. It read ‘See what you started, you whore?’ but that was about it. Holly told Tristan that one web site had started a ‘marriage pool’. Readers were invited to make guesses about when Nick and Kevin’s marriages would end. The winners would receive ‘prizes’ including one of Nick’s socks that had been left behind in a hotel and an empty beer bottle that had been retrieved from the trash taken from Kevin’s bus. The pool enlarged when Brian and Leighanne married the following Valentine’s Day.

That year had marked a new beginning of sorts for the Backstreet Boys. Time and personal events had shifted their fan base to an older and more mature group. Of course, many of these people had grown right along with the Boys. The screaming had diminished but the respect had grown. The venues were smaller and more intimate and their shows were consistent sell-outs. They had branched out from each other to some degree but remained a tight unit. Backstreet was still their foundation and they all intended to keep it that way.

In March, they performed at the Academy Awards. They had yet to win their coveted Grammy but had received an Oscar nomination for a song they had written that was included in the soundtrack of an animated feature. On the night of March 24, the Backstreet Boys came home with an Academy Award for best original song. Howie had made the acceptance speech. Kevin had cried.

Kevin had decided that he needed to spend another block of time in LA and Tristan had agreed. One producer had shown an interest in some of Kevin’s instrumental work and talked with him about the possibility of him scoring a film he was negotiating. Under the circumstances, Los Angeles was the place for them to be for Kevin’s career. Tristan did some guest teaching at UCLA and performed once at the Hollywood Bowl. Life was good, but Kevin had resumed contact with some of his LA buddies and this made Tristan uneasy. She had good reason to feel that way, although she didn’t know it. Kevin had begun using again.

One balmy evening in April, Kevin answered the phone while Tristan was getting Ben and Mallory ready for bed. The caller was an attorney who practiced in Lancaster County, Virginia. He had some information for Tristan Richardson.

“Are you Mr. Richardson?” the attorney asked.

“Yes…” Kevin frowned. “Is there a problem?”

“I have to inform Mrs. Richardson that her father died eight days ago. I just found out that she had not been notified. I – I don’t know what to say. I had no idea until the will was probated and her brothers each admitted that they hadn’t called her.” The attorney’s announcement was met with silence. Kevin wasn’t sure how to respond. “Uh, he’s been buried already, I’m afraid…”

“How did he die?”

“Aneurysm…” The lawyer answered. “Very quick – unexpected and painless…”

“Oh….” Again, there was silence. Kevin heard the attorney sigh into the phone.

“Mr. Richardson, I am required to make this phone call and I can’t tell you how much I hate to do it. It’s not up to me to inform your wife of her father’s death but it is up me to call her because there was a will.”

“Tristan was mentioned in her father’s will?”

“Jesus, just let me give you this information and you can pass it along, alright? If you or Mrs. Richardson have any questions, you can call me.”

“Okay…” Kevin responded. He wondered why the attorney was so flustered.

“Mr. Mallory left an estate which included cash, bonds, stocks and the property known as White Fences. The liquidated value of said estate is estimated to be in the ballpark of 6.2 million dollars, which Mr. Mallory has divided equally among his three sons who I’m sure will liquidate as soon as possible.” He paused before finishing his speech. “Mrs. Richardson was left one dollar.”

Kevin reached behind his back, groping for a chair. He was in shock. Tristan didn’t need her father’s money but to be left that sum in a formal will was nothing short of one final blow from the grave. He had no doubts that Tristan’s family and childhood had been completely fucked up but the illusion had had a certain vagueness to it until now. He glanced down the hallway to make sure that Tristan couldn’t hear him, his anger matched by his broken heartedness.

“Mr. Richardson? Are you still there?”

“Yes…” Kevin whispered into the phone, barely able to control himself.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry. Your wife can try to contest the will if she wants. I shouldn’t even be saying that, but…”

“I understand.” Kevin interrupted. “I don’t think she’ll contest.”

“Well, if I can help you in any way…”

“You can…” Kevin growled into the phone. “Tristan had a house on that property. You said the brothers would probably sell…”

“They’ve already contacted a realtor…”

“I want to buy it. All of it. And I want to remain anonymous.”

“That c-can be d-done…”

“Good,” Kevin spat. “Take care of it. I don’t care what you tell that goddamn family about the buyer. Make something up. Just take care of it. I want every fuckin’ square inch of White Fences…”

Kevin told Tristan about her father, but not about the will. She stared at him blankly as he spoke, showing no emotion whatsoever. She asked no questions, made no comments. When he had finished, he instinctively reached out to her in an attempt to offer some comfort, but Tristan had stiffened and then turned herself out of his arms. ‘Thank you for telling me. I know that couldn’t have been easy…’ was all she said before she walked back down the hallway to their bedroom.

In May, Tristan missed her period.

CHAPTER 78

To say that Tristan felt overwhelmed would have been an understatement. She felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders and she didn’t know what to do. Her jumpiness was affecting her work and other people were beginning to notice. Other people… Kevin was in a world of his own. He seemed to notice nothing.

The phrase ‘other people’ was really somewhat of a misnomer. Tristan didn’t really see ‘other people’ too often. They were still in LA and the people that she did see, consisted largely of Kevin’s friends and business associates. The BSB and their significant others had scattered again after the Academy Awards and she hadn’t seen any of them for two and a half months. There were phone calls and emails, of course, and she tried to keep up with them that way. Sometimes Kevin would mention that he had spoken to Howie or Nick and relay to her what he knew. It wasn’t the same.

Some relief was on the way. The group had decided to make a concerted effort to push the label by focusing on serious development and a wash of publicity. The two CD’s they had produced had done pretty well, considering the artists were unknown and general distribution had sometimes been a problem. They would have probably done much better had the Boys decided to play the ‘game’ and grease the outstretched palms of station managers and DJ’s. Tristan was fairly sure that their artists wouldn’t have objected either, but the group had taken a stand for integrity. Her hope for relief lay in her friends' plans to come to LA where they would begin the ‘push’. Tristan would be able to see her friends again. Her only disappointment was that Amanda wouldn’t be with them. She had AJ were on the outs once more and Leighanne had told her that this time it might be permanent. Tristan could have used some of Amanda’s sassiness and honesty.

She was seeing very little of Kevin these days. He often worked at the KBNHA studio now and was constantly involved in meetings with artists, producers and assorted Hollywood types including his friend, Jimmy and his girlfriend Ronni. Ronni was quite gifted at put-downs aimed at Tristan – slaps that were usually too subtle for men to recognize but that women could feel with an uncanny accuracy. Tristan avoided socializing with the couple as much as possible, which meant that she spent even less time with her husband. Ronni had openly referred to various drugs and stimulants, including cocaine, at times when Tristan and Kevin had been with them. Ronni and Jimmy treated the matter in a casual, matter-of-fact manner, assuming that Tristan shared their nonchalance. Kevin never commented one way or the other when the subject came up. Tristan had begun to harbor doubts, fearing that Kevin was using again and then wondering if he had ever really stopped. The stress of suspicion usually pushed her to the comfort of denial. Her own sense of security required that she trust him implicitly and, after all, he had promised… Hadn’t he? She had begun to doubt that, too.

Kevin hadn’t been eating well and his mood swings had become more frequent. At least two evenings a week, and often more, he had meetings or he would become absorbed in work at the studio. It was not unusual for Jimmy or Jimmy and Ronni to be with him. Kevin seemed to have frequent bouts of allergy attacks that he attributed to LA smog. He wasn’t mean to Tristan or the children. It just seemed that he was becoming more and more ‘distracted’.

Innocent remarks or observations would often be dissected and examined as if Kevin suspected they contained some hidden meaning or criticism. At times, he would leave the house looking exhausted – promising to come home early to relax and get some rest. However, that rarely happened and many times, when he did come home, he seemed fine and free from the weariness and worries about work that had plagued him earlier. Tristan had only broached her concerns once and was stopped in her tracks by Kevin’s icy glare. Then a week ago, she had bought a home pregnancy test. It had yielded a positive result. She visited a clinic the next day to have the results confirmed. It was now mid-June and the nurse practitioner had estimated that she was about six weeks pregnant and suggested that she find a personal doctor.

Kevin still didn’t know. She had been waiting for the ‘right time’ to tell him but that time hadn’t come. He had been preoccupied or away every night since she found out. She hadn’t had the pleasure of telling him the first time, so she wanted this to be special and fun. Now the gang was coming into town for a few days and she suspected she would have to wait a little longer. They would meet at Disneyland tomorrow to christen a new ride called ‘The Tower of Terror’, each of them coming directly from the airport except for Brian and Leighanne, who were already in Santa Barbara visiting friends. This gathering was nothing more than a photo opportunity, designed to keep Backstreet and their individual projects in the news while publicizing Disney’s latest attraction. It was business. Jack would be there and so would Mason. Unfortunately, Kevin had invited his ‘good friends’ - Jimmy and Ronni as well.

*****

“Come on Tris! Beverly’s here!”

Tristan stood in front of the dresser unfolding a top to wear with her denim skirt. She had to go with longer sleeves. She pulled the white tee over her head and adjusted the elbow length sleeves so that they covered the bruises that Kevin had left on her upper arm. He hadn’t really hurt her. The bruises had formed when he had grabbed her arm and flipped her to her back. She had been sleeping when he came home – lying on her stomach, deep in slumber – when she was startled into wakefulness as she felt him grab her around the middle with one arm and jerk her panties down with his free hand. Kevin had entered her from behind almost immediately and for a split second she remembered the night of the Jive party when he had taken her in the parking garage as she leaned into the back of his truck. When she cried out in surprise, the hand that had stripped her moved to her mouth, effectively silencing her as he ground against her backside, muttering under his breath as if he were talking to himself. Tristan recalled feeling the slight coolness of his scrotum against her sensitive skin. After a time, Kevin’s hand fell from her mouth and that was when he grabbed her by the arm and practically threw her onto her back, where he pushed himself into her again, almost daring her to protest his aggressiveness. He needn’t have worried. Tristan’s hormones were in fourth gear and ready for a fierce coupling.

She detected the sweet scent of whiskey on his breath as he growled into her ear - words of love changing to profanity with each thrust of his hips. He held back until he felt her fingernails dig into his sides and then he exploded, pouring into her as he heard her gasping his name. His groans shrank into whispers as he fell against her - hot, sweaty and sated – relishing the warm, wet pressure of her contractions as they continued to gently tug at his diminishing length, demanding any possible remnant of his seed. He allowed himself to fall into sleep between her thighs, his hands still holding onto her arms. The episode could have been described as what Kevin sometimes called a ‘3 F-er’ – a ‘fast, furious fuck’, devoid of tenderness until they submitted to the afterglow of release.

“TRISTAN!”

“Okay! I’m coming!”

A wave of nausea washed over her as she bent down to pick up her shoes but passed after a moment. She was suddenly starving. She literally ran into the kitchen, past Beverly, Kevin and the babies, to the toaster.

“No way, Tris – we don’t have time. We’re late as it is!”

“But..”

“No ‘buts’. They’ll have breakfast at the promo meeting anyway. Just hold on. You won’t faint…”

Tristan wasn’t so sure. Right now she envied Ben the Cheerios that were stuck to the side of his face. As Kevin gave their sitter instructions, Tristan gazed longingly at the squashed banana that Mallory pushed into her mouth.

“Tristan!”

She jerked her head in Kevin’s direction, only to find him frowning impatiently.

“What?”

“I saaaaaid….. Where are those Pull-Up things? You know, those diaper-pants that the kids are wearing…”

“In their closet….”

She only half-listened to the end of Kevin’s instructions to Beverly, but made particular note of his newly expanded vocabulary which included words like ‘poop’, ‘wee-wee’ and ‘potty’. They sounded a little ridiculous coming from his mouth but Tristan supposed that they were more appropriate that ‘shit’, piss’ and ‘can’. Kevin had taken the lead in the ongoing potty-training process, determined to teach Ben and Mallory the literal meaning of ‘anal-retentive’. Tristan rolled her eyes. Who better?

*****

The informal BSB reunion soon split into two separate ‘catch-up’ camps. After all the hugs, kisses and teasing, the men - with the exception of Ronni - drifted to one section of the conference room while the women - with the exception of Mason - drifted to another. The male contingent brought each other up to date on business ventures and plans. The women’s team settled in for a good, old-fashioned and long overdue bitch-fest. Mason was easily accepted into this estrogen-infected circle and didn’t hesitate to throw his barbs at any intended target.

“Who the hell does she think she is? Veronica Lake?”

Mason had taken an instant dislike to Ronni, having vaguely remembered her from last year.

“She’s too good to associate with us?” Leighanne snarled. “Look at her – laughing and being all cute with the guys…”

“Look at that outfit!” Mason was shaking his head. “I thought Disney had some sort of dress code or something. You could hide a small dog in that cleavage she has hanging out. She must think she’s in Hooterville…”

“She looks like a crack-whore,” Holly added.

The small group broke into peals of catty laughter, except for Tristan who was noticeably silent. Mason, Holly and Leighanne glanced at each other uncomfortably.

“We’re sorry, Precious. We shouldn’t be talking about someone we don’t even know…”

Tristan shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I think you’re all pretty astute…”

Several moments of discomfort followed Tristan’s offhand remark. Holly decided to change the subject.

“So, how’s Kevin? Sounds like he’s been working hard..”

“Yeah,” Tristan answered absently. “He’s always on the go. Has to mingle. You know…”

“How’s he been feeling?” Holly pushed.

Tristan squirmed a little. “Fine. Smog’s bothering him some. And you know Kevin – up one minute and down the next.” She forced a giggle. “Just when I think he’s gonna collapse, he seems to get a second wind…”

Holly didn’t like the sound of that.

“I guess y’all have made a lot of new friends here…” Leighanne asked gaily. She had felt a certain weight in the turn of the conversation and wasn’t sure why.

Tristan smiled without much conviction. “He has. I don’t get out too often. Kevin’s the wheeler-dealer in the family.” There was a pregnant pause in the banter that Tristan filled by turning the talk down another path. “I’m starving,” she grinned at her friends. “Where is that food?”

As if on cue, breakfast was announced at the far end of the room and the group rose to join the others in a buffet line.

“Jesus, Tris. Can I get you another plate?”

Kevin leaned over her shoulder, astounded at the volume of food his wife had managed to balance on a ten-inch porcelain disc. Bacon strips and toast points jutted out of mounds of eggs and hash-browns that she had drowned in sausage gravy. He watched as Tristan paused at a heated tray of biscuits and glanced back and forth between her plate and the hot bread as if making some sort of evaluation.

“Forget it, Tris. Ain’t no way that you can….”

Kevin stopped and watched in amazement as Tristan managed to balance not one, but two large biscuits on the edge of her overflowing plate.

“I’ll come back later for the pancakes…” she smiled and turned out of the line to find a seat.

Her departure from the buffet line left Kevin standing next to Mason.

“I guess she wasn’t kidding when she said she was starving,” Mason observed. “You really ought to feed her once in a while, Kevin…”

“Shut-up, Mason,” Kevin frowned, feeling the need to defend his wife. “A good breakfast is important. Keeps you healthy.”

“If that’s true, then it looks like Precious will be healthy for years to come… based on this meal alone.”

Kevin’s retort came in the form of a snort and then he lumbered off to join Tristan who had taken a seat at the large conference table. Howie was already sitting opposite her and in a matter of minutes the rest of the empty seats had been filled. Bad jokes and laughter permeated the room and everyone seemed to be in high spirits, chattering to each other as they gobbled down their food while laying down bets as to who might or might not get sick on the maiden run of the new ride. After several minutes, Kevin felt AJ nudge his elbow and signal him to take a look at his wife.

Tristan couldn’t take her eyes off of Howie. She knew she was staring but she couldn’t seem to stop. Ten minutes ago she had thought she would pass out from hunger. Now the very thought of putting anything in her mouth made her feel like gagging. She hadn’t touched the mini-mountain of food on her plate.

“Tristan? Are you alright?”

She heard Kevin’s voice but she couldn’t seem to answer. Howie was laughing at Nick as he slowly brought the spoonful of cottage cheese to his mouth. He had been eating cottage cheese ever since Tristan sat down and for some reason she began to imagine the curds rolling around his mouth and squeezing between his teeth as he chewed – and chewed, and chewed and chewed. Why in the hell doesn’t he swallow that shit? When he licked the back of his spoon, Tristan felt her stomach lurch.

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you eating?”

Tristan still didn’t answer Kevin. A small curd of the rotten milk had attached itself to the corner of Howie’s mouth. It actually wobbled as he talked and made Tristan think of a puss-filled blister. Her eyes grew wide and she unconsciously began to dab at the corner of her own mouth, hoping against hope that Howie would catch her signal. Her mouth was beginning to fill with saliva as her skin took on a celery-colored pallor. She was unaware that as she stared at Howie, Kevin and AJ were staring at her.

Finally, Howie glanced in her direction, looked at her with some bewilderment and then wiped his finger across the corner of his mouth. Tristan watched him pause, examine his catch, nod his thanks and then snag the pustule from the end of his finger with his tongue. That did it.

“Excuse me,” Tristan said to no one as she drove the chair back from the table.

“Where are you going?” Kevin was looking at her as if she were crazy. “You haven’t touched your food. I thought you were starving…”

Tristan looked down at her plate. Flecks of greasy sausage were swimming in an ocean of beige cream. The gravy had begun to soak into the edge of a butter filled biscuit. Small chunks of yellow yolk peeked out from under the flow.

“Ladies room…” she gurgled, throwing her napkin onto the table.

She was gone before Kevin could say another word. AJ met Kevin’s puzzled glance and shrugged.

“Hey man… When you gotta go - you gotta go…”

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