We drive on.
24. Where Tyson Meets His Match
IT’S A little house in a little neighborhood. Not bad, but by no means the greatest either. There’s a small fence around the front yard. There are flowers and bushes along the house that look as if they could stand to be watered. The lawn needs to be mowed. There’s an old car in the driveway, but it’s missing a tire and is up on a jack. It’s late afternoon, and I can’t tell if anyone is home.
Dom had wanted to come, almost to the point of arguing with me. I told him if he meant what he’d said in the car, he’d let me do this. A little manipulative, sure, but I don’t want him to see her for a very simple reason. He’s never met her. Therefore, he can never be tainted by her. Should this go wrong (and there’s no reason to suggest it won’t—ever the optimist), I don’t want him to see her. She hasn’t gotten to him yet. And if I have anything to say about it, she never will.
He wasn’t happy, of course. He wants to protect the ones he loves.
Loves. Jesus Christ. That’s something I’m still not able to wrap my mind around. Either this has been the best trip in the history of ever or it’s about to go ass up.
Drive away, it whispers. You’ve got what you wanted. At least the foundation of it. Drive away now. Pick up Dom at the shitty motel and drive home. Go back to Seafare and the Green Monstrosity and Bear and Otter and let them worry about things for a little. That’s what they’re there for. Then you can focus on Dom and whatever is supposed to happen. All you have to do is drive away.
It would be so easy. I’d start the car. Put it in drive. And leave. This would all be behind me, and I’d never wonder about it again.
They’re nice, these thoughts. But they’re wrong.
I’d think about it. And I’d dream about her. And I’d always wonder.
But wouldn’t it be better to wonder? If you wonder, you might not know, but at least there would be no more sorrow. There’d be no more hurt.
That’s true. But I have to know. I have to know for myself. And for him. If we’re to have any future, then I need to know all of me.
If you’d have told me a few days ago that I’d be sitting in front of Julie McKenna’s house after hearing Dominic Miller say he loves me, I’d probably have asked you just how finely cut the cocaine you’re snorting is. It’s been that kind of a week. God. My life is so fucking strange.
Do it. Do it now. I’m either going to do it or leave. So just fucking do it.
I open the car door.
I remember her laugh.
I close it behind me.
I remember her smile.
I’m halfway across the street.
I remember her smell.
I’m on the sidewalk.
I remember how Bear sat in front of me, telling me she was gone.
My hands curl into fists at my side and my throat constricts.
Bear says, Breathe.
Otter says, Breathe.
Dom says, Just breathe, Ty. All you have to do is breathe. You breathe because it’s all inevitable. It’s all so inevitable. I promise you that you won’t be lost anymore.
I breathe. Most people don’t know just how precious the art of breathing truly is. I breathe because of Bear. I breathe because of Otter. I breathe because of Dominic, who I love. Of course I do. And I’ll tell him. I’ll tell them all. And we’ll figure everything out together and everything will be as it was and as it should be. It’s inevitable.
I don’t breathe because of her. Maybe I did at one point. Maybe that’s all I did. And maybe in the memories I have of her, there are good ones, times when she was my mother and I was her son and nothing else mattered. She left, but there was good in her. There was. I remember it. I remember the way her hair tickled my face when she kissed my nose. I remember the way she swung me up in the air. I remember the way her hand felt in mine as we listened to the waves on the beach. I remember that kite. I remember her.
But mostly I remember Bear. And Otter. And Dominic. They are my brothers. They raised me. They loved me for who I was and for who I’ve become. I’m lost, but Dom promised he’s found me, and Bear says the same. These are the men I aspire to be. These are the men I need. These people are my family, and they’d never leave. They’d never leave me behind.
And maybe that’s enough.