Tucker #8: Won't Get Fooled Again.

I've had five words throw me for a loop, make me cry, and piss me off before.

"Kayleigh, we need to talk." Aw snap.
"It's not you, it's me." Damn right it's you.
"There has been an accident." Stomach drop. Heart in throat.
"Maggie had a bad stroke." Maggie = my sweet yellow lab baby back home.
"Someone ate your butterscotch pudding." SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU DID WHAT. Assholes.
"The beer is all gone." *cry*


Never has five words rocked me quite as hard as William's Facebook response.

"lol, no. but it's cool".


I wasn't surprised. This is what I expected, right? What I had hoped for, even. I knew Tucker was lying to me, and he wasn't recovering from surgery, at home in Rome, Georgia. Still, despite the understanding that this was the case, reading the words from William - the concrete proof that I still had not reached the end of my tormenting from Tucker - broke my heart. Now what? I had confirmed my suspicions, verified William's innocence, and returned to the place I'd begun.

I responded to William's Facebook message, no longer caring if I seemed out of my mind crazy or not. I needed to know where this story would end, and he was my only help from here on out. I had exercised all other options, searched (/stalked) til my fingers were sore, and each time reached another devastating dead end. If I wanted to come to any sort of conclusion, I had to get William's help.

"William, this is the weirdest conversation you will ever have, but we seriously need to talk. I know you dont know me, but will you text me? I have some important info to talk to you about. (Insert phone number given out to total stranger here) -- promise you I'm not crazy - text me and I'll explain everything."


Nuts? Absolutely. But what choice did I have? I gathered my composure, and another Woodstini, and set out for the dance floor, determined to enjoy the rest of the night with my girlfriends. No sooner had I stolen the set list to find out if I'd already missed "Come On, Eileen", (I had, damnit), did my cell phone start ringing. I glanced at the number - not a contact I had saved in my phone - and set it back down, as I rarely answer numbers I don't recognize. I jolted back to attention and scrambled for my phone when I realized what area code was calling - 706 - from Georgia. It was William - it had to be. I dropped my drink, and bolted for the door.

An hour or so later, I was still sitting on a curb outside The Woods, and had nearly finished telling William the entire Tucker story. He was patient as I wound through the harrowing details, stopping every few sentences when I remembered a detail I'd left out. I'm certain he was unbelievably confused, but continued to "uh huh", and "okay" his way through my entire rendition of the tale. When I finally wrapped it up, I asked William if he thought I was crazy. "No," he reassured me, "but all this is." I was relieved that he believed me, first of all. He asked me some questions, I clarified some parts that were confusing, and I welcomed William into what had been my crazy world for the last month.

I asked him what he was thinking, and the most he could muster were remarks about how crazy, how unbelievable, and how creepy this whole thing was. He was furious, first, that Tucker had stolen the names of himself, his parents, and his brother. He was confused as to why someone would want to use his name in order to hide their own identity. Why not a "John Smith" or some other common, inconspicuous, NOT EASILY SEARCHABLE ON GOOGLE YOU DAMN FOOL sort of name. Why was someone running around ripping off his identity, yet combining it with their own photos and life? It didn't make any sense.

The second part of William's anger stemmed from the ludicrous (totally had to look up how to spell that properly - DAMN you Luda!) "confession" of Tucker and William being one and the same. He was nearly speechless, and I sensed the anger in his voice when he told me how he nearly died overseas - nearly lost his life fighting for his country - and this coward, hiding behind a computer screen and a cell phone, has the audacity to claim that strength, that bravery, as his own. I hadn't thought of it this way yet - I was too busy being wrapped up in my own drama to realize the severity of Tucker's claims. When William approached it this way, my anger only intensified, and it was then that we vowed to find him, together, no matter what it took.

William was amazing, right from the get-go. He expressed his own apologies that I was dealing with such an outlandish event. He promised to help me get to the bottom of the mystery, asking for any information I could give him - phone numbers, pictures, e-mail addresses -- anything that might help him track down just who this was. We talked some more, as I walked toward my car. It was so strange to be talking to William - the "real" Tucker - and I was so relieved to find out he was not the one lying to me all along. We talked as though we were old friends - going back and forth from chatting about our nights to marveling at the preposterous predicament we were now forever bonded through. As our discussion came to a close, I promised to send him all of Tucker's information when I returned home, and agreed to touch base the next day to determine the best plan of action.


The next morning, in a haze that I'm certain was a blend of a few too many cocktails, a lack of sleep, and the newest developments in my adventure, I wandered to a good friend's house to share breakfast and unload about my conversations with William the night before. Jamie had heard the story unfold as it went along - she was with me the night weeks before when I was supposed to meet Tucker for the very first time. As I unraveled the details of my communication with William, she tried to piece together the clues and developments as well. Neither of us could get any further with the story, and settled in for our morning's coffee, breakfast, and gossip gab instead. It didn't take long for my phone to alert me of a text message from William, asking me how I was feeling, and checking in for any new information that morning. I had nothing recent to report, so our chat reverted to the standard "can you believe this?" and "holy shit this is insane" that seemed to be par for the course for anything Tucker related these days. He told me he had a few ideas of ways to do some digging, and promised to be in contact the moment he had news, should he uncover anything important.

I went back to chatting with Jamie about knitting, sucking down coffee like it was my job (did I mention I slept TWO hours the night before? Two. Even my BODY was too wrapped up in Tucker to sleep), and casual Facebook meanderings. My phone lit up again - it was William calling. It hadn't been more than a half hour or so since our last conversation - I couldn't imagine what monumental discoveries he could have made in such a short time. I answer the phone, expecting to hear a few more questions, a request for more details, or some clarification about some part of the story.


"So, I downloaded an app on my phone that lets you type in a phone number, and it searches for directory matches AND places on the internet where your phone number might be posted."


"Okay...and?"



"Well I found a match. You are not going to believe this."