18.
Where Tyson Gets Screwed
at His Own Birthday Party
(And Not in a Good Way)
IT MIGHT have seemed easier earlier, but by the time the party starts, I’m pretty sure I’m starting to understand why murder seems ridiculously easy. I just need to find a way not to get caught. I have the brain power so I should be able to figure it out. A vat of acid should do the job nicely.
To say that lunch with Dominic was awkward is an understatement.
The car ride over to the restaurant was done in a heavy silence punctuated by half-hysterical attempts at conversation, with such gems coming from me such as “So, what did you think of the sports game on TV last night? I sure enjoyed when the half forward made a basket!” And “Oh, look! That bus bench has a sign for a personal injury attorney that says he only takes 23 percent! How positively fortuitous!”
Dominic, ever the conversationalist, remained as stoic as ever, grunting his responses as opposed to using his mouth for what it was made for (this, of course, led to a line of thinking that I had no right or reason to think about involving his mouth, my mouth, and a whole lot of suction. These thoughts were immediately erased when I found myself with a burgeoning erection. Have you ever gotten half a hard-on when you can’t seem to stop talking about sports and lawyers? I have. It’s awkward).
Besides, I scolded myself, I wasn’t supposed to be thinking of him in any way other than an off-limits friend I hadn’t seen in a very long time who I’d wronged and had just made things kind of right with again. That simple.
But for whatever reason, I couldn’t get over the guilt I felt at having him walk in and seeing Corey (that rat bastard!) kissing me. I told myself it was nothing. I told myself it didn’t matter. I told myself Dominic had plenty more to worry about than seeing his old friend kiss another boy. And I realized how ridiculous that thought was as soon as I had it.
So lunch occurred, and I barely remember what the food tasted like, much less what I ordered. Everything was too bright, too shiny, and I couldn’t focus on a damn thing. For what it’s worth, Dom seemed distracted, too, and though I wondered at it, I didn’t think it was my place to ask.
Conversation was stilted, the silences stretching too long, both of us starting to speak at the same time, then stopping, laughing nervously as we both motioned for each other to speak, only to have the silence return even longer than the time before.
And for the life of me, I couldn’t quite stop staring at his mouth.
Creepy, right? Seriously.
I watched as a noodle disappeared between his lips and thought, I really need to look somewhere else. But then he darted his tongue out to get a bit of butter sauce and apparently my body thought that was the most erotic thing to have ever have happened in human existence, and I spilled my water all over the table as my hand jerked into the glass, knocking it over. I’m pretty sure everyone in the restaurant turned and stared at me and wondered why the obviously mentally deficient child was babbling and trying to mop up the table with his shirt.
And then he asked it. The jerk.
“You and Corey, huh?” he said in an off-handed tone.
I gaped at him, suddenly and without warning unable to form any kind of coherent sentence. Instead, I said, “Gah?”
He nodded. “You guys look… nice… together.”
“Guh? Gah?”
“I’m happy for you, Tyson. I really am. I hope he treats you right.”
“We’re….” I stopped and cleared my throat. “He’s not… I don’t…. Guh?” I stopped before my eloquence could contribute any more to the human race than it already had.
“Not what?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I muttered.
“Oh,” Dominic said. “Fuck buddy, then?”
It’s probably good thing I wasn’t attempting to eat anymore, because I’m pretty sure I would have choked to death right at that moment. “You said ‘fuck’!”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “I guess I did.”
“You never say ‘fuck’!”
“Could you not shout that, please? People are starting to stare. Again.”
“You can’t curse,” I hissed at him, barely lowering my voice.
“Why not? Last time I checked, I was of an age where I can say what I want.”
“You’re… you… you’re Dominic!”
“I suppose I should be relieved you can remember my name,” he said, eating more erotic butter noodles with that dirty, filthy mouth of his.
I couldn’t figure out the words to explain to him that in all the years I’d known him, I’d never heard him say the word “fuck,” and for some reason, it was making this whole situation that much worse because if he could eat erotic butter noodles and say the word “fuck,” what chance did I, a mere mortal, have of not thinking of him in any way other than wearing nothing but the pants of his police uniform and twirling a pair of handcuffs on his finger?
“We’re not fuck buddies,” I said weakly. You can’t be fuck buddies with someone whose death you’re plotting in your head. Well, not in good conscience, anyway.
“Could have fooled me,” he said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He watched me, and I knew he was turning on the whole “cop stare” again.
“That was….” What was that? What Corey did?
“That was?”
“Corey,” I finished lamely. “He’s… odd.”
“Seems like a nice guy.”
“Oh, he is.”
“Great.”
“Yeah, great.”
Excruciatingly long, evil silence. We just stared.
“So,” I said for lack of anything better to say.
“So,” he said.
“I guess I’m no longer a teenager, huh?”
“Guess not. Twenty years old.”
“Yeah.”
“Not quite legal, yet.”
“For all the things that count,” I said without thinking.
“Oh?” he asked maddeningly. “What things would those be?”
“War.” FUCKING! “Smoking.” FUCKING!
Dominic frowned. “You going to join the army?”
“No.”
“You going to start smoking?”
“No.”
“And if I catch you with alcohol,” he growled, “you’re in for a world of hurt.”
Yes, officer. “I won’t!” I squeaked, as if puberty and I had just become casual acquaintances.
“Good to know.”
He paid for lunch while I prayed to Jesus or Buddha or Krishna (I’ve found when in a high stage of panic, you really don’t care, just as long as someone listens) or any deity at all to send a meteor the size of North Carolina to smite me from this earth to save me from myself. Unfortunately, Jesus and Buddha and Krishna all seemed to be away on some kind of God Retreat at Camp Screw You, Tyson Thompson, and no meteor fell from the sky and ended my life, so I couldn’t make my current situation any worse.
Just my luck.
The car ride back wasn’t any better.
In front of the Green Monstrosity, he parked his car. We sat there for a moment, and I wanted to say something, anything, but my throat constricted and all I could do was focus on breathing.
“Tyson,” he said, and I looked over, sure he was about to say something that would change everything.
“Yeah?”
“We should probably go inside,” he said.
Get a grip, man! “Yeah.”
And that’s what we did.
People shouted surprise! when the door opened.
I smiled and pretended to be just that.
Streamers fell. Balloons flew. People laughed and clapped.
And now, an hour later, I’m glaring at Corey, who’s laughing way too fucking loudly at something Dominic says and reaching up, trailing his fingers along Dom’s biceps, and I imagine that Corey wouldn’t have the same smile on his face if someone smashed his fingers (and kneecaps) with a ball-peen hammer (and for a moment, I’m distracted on how it is exactly that I know what a ball-peen hammer is—I’m so full of useless crap).
“Your bones will poke through the skin,” I promise him darkly, unaware that anyone can hear me.
Which, of course, someone does.
“That sounds unpleasant,” Otter says, coming to stand next to me where I stand partially hidden behind a gaudy fake tree/plant thing Bear found at a swap meet that for some reason he adores. Otter and I have both tried to accidentally light the aptly named Gross Bush Tree Thing on fire. Both times, Bear caught us. He was not amused. “Who are you threatening?”
“Oh, Dom!” Corey practically shouts as he all but rubs his entire body up against Dominic’s huge body. “Aren’t you just dear! I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who has put me in such a good humor!”
“Ah,” Otter says sagely. “Now it’s as clear as mud.”
“Shards of bone,” I growl.
“Who are we staring at?” Creed asks, coming up to stand by his brother.
“Death by raging fire,” I say with a scowl.
“Tell me, Dom!” Corey says, louder than the thirty other people in the room. “What’s your favorite position? You know. In sports. I prefer to play all over the field!”
“Oh,” Creed says. “Now I get it. I think. Whose death are we plotting?”
“I think right now it could be either or,” Otter says. “Or both. Or neither.”
“So we’re plotting behind Gross Bush Tree Thing, then? I feel my life has been missing evil plots as of late. Anna’s pregnancy makes me tired.”
“What about Anna being pregnant?” Otter asks.
Creed waves his hand. “All she has to do is carry the little bastard. I’m the one who has to lose sleep next to her when she kicks me awake all night because her back hurts.”
“Yeah, probably shouldn’t let your wife hear that.”
“Too late,” Anna says, cuffing Creed upside the head. “If it bothers you that much, you can sleep on the couch. Why are we hiding behind Gross Bush Tree Thing?”
“We’re planning murder,” Creed explains.
Her eyes go wide. “Oooh! It’s been so long since I’ve done that.”
“What about last week when I left the toilet seat up again and you fell in at three in the morning?”
She smiles sweetly at Creed. “No murder. Not yet. Once I get your spawn out of me, then we’ll talk. I don’t want to be pregnant in jail.”
“It’s a love for the ages,” he says, kissing his wife on the nose.
“Who are we going to murder?” Anna asks.
“Tell me, Officer,” Corey says with a giggle and all the subtlety of an atomic bomb made of unicorns and glitter. “Do you ever get to use those handcuffs and nightstick for anything more… adventurous?”
“The black plague in your brain,” I mutter.
“Ah,” Anna says. “Have we figured out which one?”
“Not yet,” Otter says.
“I have an idea,” Creed says.
“You don’t have many of those,” Anna says. “Hold on to it while you can.”
“I forgot how much fun you are when you’re pregnant,” Creed says. “It’s like being married to a—”
“Choose your next words very carefully,” Anna says. “Especially if you ever want to do that one thing again.”
“—wonderful woman who brings nothing but joy and laughter to my life and for whom my heart beats eternally,” Creed finishes.
“Gross,” Otter says. “I don’t want to know what that one thing is.”
“Yes, you do,” Creed says. “Anna can clench her—”
“What are you all doing? You better not be lighting that on fire again. Otter, I swear to God you’re going to burn the house down!” Bear storms over and glares at Otter.
“Try to set something on fire once and you get blamed for it the rest of your life,” Otter sighs.
“Four times,” Bear reminds him.
“Gross Tree Bush Thing is just begging for it,” Creed says.
“Don’t call it that! I paid good money for it!”
“Against any and all judgment and pleadings on my behalf,” Otter reminds him.
“It’s my Charlie Brown Christmas Tree,” Bear says, lovingly stroking the plastic. “All it needs is a little love.”
“Good money?” Creed asks. “Think of all the starving children in Argentina or Kentucky you could have fed with that money. You know, Bear, once you have children, you won’t be able to spend money on such frivolous and hideous things. You’ll need to save for college or bail money and an attorney. I haven’t yet decided what direction I think an offspring of yours would go.”
“And diapers,” Anna says. “And clothes. And toys. And shoes. So many pairs of shoes.”
“And video games,” Creed says. “And alcohol for yourself because it’s going to be the only way you’ll make it through the next eighteen years. Don’t worry, though. I’ll teach you how to day-drink and not look like you’re drunk.”
“He doesn’t day-drink,” Anna says, frowning at Creed.
“I’m drunk right now,” he assures her. “Completely shattered. Want to go mess around?”
“Not even a little bit,” she says.
“Disappointing,” he sighs.
“I read in an article that the average cost of raising a child is over two hundred thousand dollars,” Bear says, looking sad. “Think of all the stuff we could buy if we saved that money for ourselves.”
“Or,” Otter says, “think of the joy when our son or daughter says ‘Daddy’ for the first time.”
“Or when he or she screams how much they hate you at the grocery store because you wouldn’t buy them a candy bar,” Creed says. “And then everyone stares at you because you’re so obviously a bad parent and you can’t control your little spawn of Satan.”
“That was one time,” Anna says. “And to be fair, you told him first that you were going to buy a candy bar for yourself, and that JJ was going to get a can of wet cat food.”
“Fucking with him is the only way I’ll survive since you won’t let me day-drink,” he says. “How else am I supposed to live since you trapped me with a baby?”
“Tyson?”
God, they’re all so weird. “Yes, Anna?”
“Whatever your plans are for Corey and/or Dominic, please make room for Creed in them on the receiving end as well, with me standing by your side. Might I suggest waterboarding them with bleach?”
“That would work perfectly,” I grumble darkly as Corey lets out another one of his braying-donkey laughs as he all but fucks Dominic in front of everyone. It’s funny, really, when you realize your best friend is nothing but a big fat whore who needs to shut his whore mouth and fall off the earth.
But to complicate things (I am me, after all), I’m also slightly (read: extremely) annoyed with Dominic for just standing there with a bemused expression on his face, taking such advances in stride. Corey’s my friend and ex-boyfriend, not his, and he needs to back the fuck away from Corey before I climb him like a mountain and plant my fist in his face.
Gosh, I’m a remarkably complex and fascinating creature.
Maybe I’ll just off the both of them and be rid of this entire situation. I think it would make things so much easier.
“Well, as much fun as plotting evil plots behind Gross Tree Bush Thing is for me,” Creed says, “I really think we could put our focus on the ill-suffering Kid here. It’s his birthday, after all. We can’t have him be murderous.”
“I’m perfectly fine with murderous,” I tell him, though I find it slightly odd that we’ve all randomly congregated behind a plastic tree bush. No wonder people are under the impression my family is weird.
“Be that as it may, let’s change things up a bit,” he says cheerfully as he reaches out and shoves the Gross Tree Bush Thing. Bear squawks angrily as it falls to the ground with a loud crash, revealing the five of us standing in close proximity in the corner of the living room. “Tyson!” Creed says quite loudly. “You need to be more careful! That could have killed someone!”
Everyone stares at us, including Corey and Dom. Corey, that motherfucker, has a knowing smirk on his face that makes me want to rip his lips off. Who knew I had such a propensity for violent fantasies? I should probably bring this up the next time I’m in therapy. Just my luck, I’m on my way to being a serial killer on top of everything else. That’s something I really don’t need.
“I will destroy something you love,” Bear promises angrily, bending over to pick up the tree.
Well, if I am going to be a serial killer, at least I’ll know where I got it from.
“Yeah, yeah, Papa Bear,” Creed says, rolling his eyes. “Because you’re so threatening.”
“He tries,” Otter says with a sweet smile. “It’s rather adorable.”
“Gag,” Creed says. “I could have lived my whole life without hearing my older brother describe my best friend as adorable. You really outgayed yourself this time, Otter, which honestly, I didn’t think was possible, what with the whole ‘gay sex’ thing. Congratulations.”
“Tyson!” Corey calls. “There you are.” He grabs Dominic by the hand and drags him over to us. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”
This is a horrible and horrendous lie, and he knows it. “Funny,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’ve been in the same spot the whole time.”
“Hiding behind the Gross Tree Bush Thing,” Creed says helpfully.
“Why do you guys have names for everything?” Corey asks as Bear continues to stroke the plastic. “Green Monstrosity. Gross Tree Bush Thing. I bet Bear and Otter have names for their penises too.”
“I’m already in therapy,” I remind him. “That can’t possibly help the situation.”
“Having a good birthday, Tyson?” Dominic asks me as if we didn’t just spend the most awkward lunch of our lives together and as if he hasn’t just spent the last hour being the object of Corey’s affections.
“Superb,” I say. “Illuminating. Eye-opening.”
“You okay, Ty?” Corey asks. “You sound a little… uptight.” He inches a step closer toward Dom. Their arms are touching. He wouldn’t be able to do that if he didn’t have arms! I think savagely.
So, it whispers. We’ve pretty much given up on the whole “seeing them as friends and nothing more” thing, then? I’m impressed. It lasted… what? A week? Two weeks? That’s quite the willpower you have their, Kid. Something to be so very, very proud of.
Shut it.
“I’m fine,” I say, though it sounds like I’m either about to explode or lay an egg. Possibly both.
“Good,” Corey says, obviously pleased about something. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty to talk about on our trip, then. You and me in a car for two whole days? My, what could possibly happen?”
“Texas Chain Saw Massacre comes to mind,” I say. “Or possibly Thelma & Louise.”
He grins. “I think we’re on the same page, dear heart.” He winks at me, and I muse on how dull a spoon can be and still be able to gouge out an eye.
“Texas Chain Saw Massacre?” Bear echoes incredulously. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“Good job, Kid,” Otter says. “If you ever wanted to not go on a road trip with your friend, that was the way to do it.”
“Oh shit,” I groan.
“This is not going to go well,” Creed agrees.
“Bear?” Anna says. “Maybe you should just take a breath before you pass out.”
Bear ignores them all, even as his face turns red. It doesn’t take a genius to see his mind is racing at a billion miles an hour and going off in directions that a normal person with normal brain function couldn’t even possibly imagine. Let’s see how well I know Bear, shall we? There are a lot of weirdoes out there, he’s probably thinking. What if they’re driving and they cross into California and for no reason other than for it to happen, the car breaks down? And of course it’ll be in the middle of the night because that’s when these things always happen. Their cell phones won’t work because for some reason, the satellites are hidden behind mountains or clouds or whatever and they’ll be stuck out in the middle of nowhere next to an abandoned meat-packing plant that’s the only building for forty miles. Tyson won’t be able to resist going over to it because he’s sure it’s still in production and will want to find some way to blow it up, because he’s no longer an ecoterrorist-in-training. No, he’s gone on to full-blown terrorism now, all because of vegetarianism, but he’ll find the meat-packing plant is not in production, and it hasn’t been for years, and is now instead the home to a cabal of sadistic psychopaths whose only mission in life is to cause as much human terror and destruction as possible. Tyson and Corey will attempt to flee the chainsaw-wielding crazies who just finished having sex with their mothers on top of a blanket made from the skins of their victims, but they’ll be trapped inside the meat-packing plant because it’s been turned into a carnival of terror where once you go in, you can never get out. These things happen in California all the time. I know this because I watch the news now, and I read articles, and every day there are mass chainsaw murders in California, and I don’t know why no one has done a single thing about this epidemic of fear, but you can sure as shit bet that Tyson won’t be allowed to go there, no sir! I’d rather him be pissed off at me for the rest of his life for thinking I’m interfering with him even though he’s now twenty years old rather than have him become the sex blood slave to a crazy named Harvey who keeps him locked in a cage made out of femurs and attaches a collar around his neck made of dried out tongues and tied together with eyelashes still glistening wetly with tears. Of course I’m going to interfere if it means saving him from such a fate! There is no way in hell I’m going to let him be a fuck buffet for a bunch of inbred Californian psychopathic chainsaw cannibals! I know what happens in California! I’ve seen the news!
Not bad, huh? Yeah, try living with him continuously and see if it’s still amusing.
“You bet your ass you’re not going to California!” he finally explodes. “I’m not going to let you get raped by psycho cannibals!” Bingo. “And I swear to God, you better not think you’re ready for this jelly, because I will make sure your milkshake brings no one to the yard.”
Dammit. So close. Even I don’t know how he got to that one. I must be slipping with my Bearology. I used to have his neurosis down to the smallest detail. Which makes me very, very sad.
“We’re not going to get raped and murdered,” I say.
“And even if we did,” Corey says, “using the laws of averages and Horror Movie Trivia, at least one of us would need to survive so we could come back for the sequel.” He shakes his head sadly. “It probably won’t be me. I’m not white.”
“I would feel really sad if it was you,” I say, lying through my teeth.
“I somehow doubt that,” he replies, that smirk back on his face.
“No raping!” Bear shouts.
“They’re not going to get raped,” Otter says, trying to soothe Bear. “Tyson isn’t stupid enough to go into an abandoned meat-packing plant in the middle of nowhere.” Good to know he came to the same conclusion I did.
“Well,” I say, “I probably wouldn’t. But if it looks like it’s still in operation, all bets are off. Do you know how many of our animal friends are monstrously torn apart every—”
“Kid, you’re not helping your cause,” Creed says. “I’d shut your trap.”
He’s probably right. Bear looks like he’s ready to lock me up in my room, never to release me from my tower.
“I am twenty years old,” I remind them. “Legally, I can go wherever I choose.”
“Probably not the best argument,” Otter says, “however true. Especially since you’d be using our car.”
“I’ll just rent a car!”
“You’re not twenty-five,” Anna says.
“And you have, like, four dollars,” Corey reminds me.
“I am going to be trapped with all of you for the rest of my life,” I groan, and for some reason, this causes almost everyone to smile stupidly.
“We’ll go through Idaho,” Corey offers. “Then down through Nevada. Avoid the whole ‘cannibal Californian’ thing all together.”
“No,” Bear says quietly. “Stay out of Idaho.” He glances at me, and we both know why. That’s where she lives. Or at least, that’s where she was living the last time we heard from her. It’s not like there’s any chance I’ll accidentally run into her, but with all the things that have happened to our family, I wouldn’t dismiss it completely. We tend to get the brunt of the bullshit all at once. It’s kind of our thing.
“One of us could just go with them,” Creed says.
Who do these people think they are? “Now wait just a goddamn minute—” I start to say.
“That’s perfect!” Corey says, overriding me. “Dominic! Weren’t we just talking about how you have some time off coming to you?”
“You asked me that, yes,” Dom says slowly, and I can almost appreciate the diabolical trap Corey has intricately spread out all around us. I can do nothing as I watch him tighten the noose. “Randomly. Out of the blue.”
Corey claps his hands together. “Well, then, Dominic can go with us to Tucson! We’ll be gone, what… a week at the most? Two days there, three days to hang out in Tucson, and then two days back with just Dominic and Tyson. Alone. By themselves. Surely you could ask for the time off, couldn’t you, Dominic? And, Bear, wouldn’t that make you feel so much better about the trip knowing a rather large police officer was escorting our young, impressionable, and obviously easily murdered by psycho cannibals selves through the wilds of California?”
The more he speaks, the more his death at my hands becomes an inevitability. That asshole knows exactly what he’s doing. This whole thing should be over and done and never discussed again, and I would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn’t been for that meddling homo.
And since the (loaded) question is directed toward me, naturally everyone turns to look at me. Otter looks worried. Judas (Creed) looks like he thinks this is the funniest thing to ever have happened anywhere and can barely contain himself. Anna is scolding JJ across the room with her eyes only (in that weird way that only parents can do) as JJ prepares to massacre a bunch of balloons with a fork. Bear looks between Dominic and me, a look of dawning comprehension falling over his face. His mouth tightens and his eyes narrow.
And yet, wonder of all wonders, he waits. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t say what he thinks is best for me, and for once, I’m pissed that he’s not taking this decision away from me, that he’s making me act like the smart and mature and totally responsible twenty-year-old I am (or like to think I am, anyway). Just two seconds ago, I was mad that he was trying to make a decision for me and now I’m mad that he’s not. Jesus fucking Christ. I have to be bipolar. There’s no other explanation for it.
God. Being an adult sucks so much ass.
And Dominic, of course. Dominic, who stands there larger than anyone has any right to be, watching me with guarded eyes and a blank face, and I want to scream at him to just tell me what the fuck he wants, what the fuck he wants me to do. What he wants me to say. What’s that word Bear used to use? Projecting. Of course I’m projecting, because he doesn’t want anything from me, he doesn’t need me to do or say anything. His life and world was perfectly ordered until I came back.
And yet he waits and watches in that infuriating way.
In the space of the seconds that have passed, three responses have formed in my head, and it’s anybody’s guess which one will actually come out.
One: Are you out of your fucking mind? Of course I don’t want you to come! I’m fighting a losing battle to get these ridiculous fantasies out of my head of your dick in my mouth, and you want to be plastered by my side for a week? How could you possibly think that’s a good idea. Don’t you know what you do to me? Don’t you know why I didn’t come back? You broke me, Dom. You broke me into a billion tiny little pieces, and somehow, I’ve put myself back together, only to have you here again. I love you. I don’t think I ever stopped. But I can’t have this because even though I’m back together in some shape and form, I still don’t know how to breathe.
Two: Of course I want you to come. That way we can be by each other’s side as much as possible because I highly doubt once this summer’s over that I’ll ever come back here. I really think Seafare and I might be done. So let’s go do this one last thing before I figure out how to put my life back together and get myself back on track. One last thing so that I can look back years from now and not feel completely guilty about how I decided to run away yet again.
Three: Sure, Dom! That’d be swell. We’ll have a blast! I really appreciate you taking the time out of what I’m sure is a busy schedule to come and babysit Corey and me. Maybe that’ll give us more time to reconnect and see what’s what. Maybe you can drive part of the way too? That’d be awesome.
Three choices. Three different reactions.
Which one do I pick?
Surprise! The fourth one.
“What about Ben?” I ask stupidly while it laughs hysterically inside my head, calling me an asshole.
“That’ll be his week with his mother,” Dominic says softly. “They’re taking him to Disneyland with a group of other autistic kids. Supposed to be a big to-do.”
“And you weren’t going to go?”
He shakes his head. His face is still blank, like any decision I make wouldn’t matter in the slightest to him.
You’re projecting, it says, sounding amused. Jesus, you’re supposed to be this fucking genius, and here you are, wondering yet again why a boy doesn’t like you like you like him. How positively dismal has your life become that this is what you are now? You’ve been to hell and back and this is what you’ve made of it? This is what you’re going to allow yourself to be? Such promise, they’ll say someday. He had such promise and he let it all be squandered away. I hope I’m still around to tell you I told you so when that happens.
I mimic Dominic as much as possible. I shrug. “Doesn’t matter to me one way or another. I don’t think we need a babysitter. But it would be all right to have company on the trip back home.” I think about each and every single word as it comes out of my mouth to make sure there could be no hidden meaning gleaned from any of them. I’m not being paranoid. Just careful. (And paranoid.)
He shrugs too. “That works.”
What is that supposed to mean, you son of a bitch? I almost scream at him, but I stop myself even as I feel it start to well up in my throat.
Corey claps his hands together. “Wonderful!” he exclaims much too brightly. “Then it’s settled. Dominic will accompany us to Tucson, and we shall see what we see!”
Everyone starts talking at once.
THE PARTY is winding down and people are saying their good-byes. I’m in the backyard, and Jerry and Alice Thompson hug me tightly and tell me how happy they are I’m home again and that they’d better see me before I leave for Tucson. I smile at them as they leave me with a wave. Good people, them. The best.
I’m tired, though. Today has been weirdly draining. I’m not in a panic, not yet. I can still breathe, so at least there’s that. But I can’t help but feel the rug has been pulled out from under me, and I’ve somehow tumbled down a rabbit hole where I’m late, I’m late, and nothing makes sense because it’s all brightly colored and upside down.
If I could just find some control, everything would be okay. I know it would.
I slide off my sandals and curl my toes in the grass. It’s cool against my skin.
“Hey,” someone says from behind me.
“Hey, yourself,” I say back.
Bear stands next to me and brushes his arm against mine. I feel better now that it’s just the two of us. “You sure about this?”
“About what?”
“You know.”
Yeah. “Honestly?”
“Sure, Kid.”
“I want everything to go back the way it was.”
He laughs quietly. “It wasn’t always that great.”
I nudge his shoulder. “We had our moments, you and me.”
“We did, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, Papa Bear.”
“I’ll kill him, you know.”
This startles me. “What? Who?”
“Dominic.” Bear’s voice has gone hard.
“Bear—”
“If he hurts you,” Bear says, “I’ll kill him. I don’t care that he’s family. I don’t care that he’s one of us. You were mine first, and I swear on all that I have, if he does you wrong, it’ll be the last thing he does.”
I’m absurdly touched, even if his anger is misplaced. “Don’t think it’ll come to that,” I say roughly. “It’s not him, you know. It’s me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
I laugh. “That’s not even remotely true.”
He moves then to stand in front of me, facing each other and eye-to-eye. I don’t remember when that happened, the moment he didn’t have to look down anymore. It’s almost like looking into a mirror. It’s odd, really. But it’s home, too, so I don’t question it.
“It is,” he insists, his eyes flashing angrily. I don’t know who he’s pissed off at right now, me, Dom, himself, or this whole situation. “You are just the way you need to be. If anybody tries to tell you otherwise, I’ll knock them flat on their ass.”
“Sure, Bear,” I say, because I have no other words.
He nods and takes a step back. His eyes soften and a faraway look crosses his face. “I never thought we’d get to this point,” he says.
“What point?”
He shrugs. “Here. Now. You and me. You… you’ve grown up.”
“Everyone does, Bear,” I say lightly.
“I know. It’s just that….” He shakes his head. “I just thought there’d be more time. I thought I’d have longer.”
I roll my eyes. “We only have the rest of our lives. You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m not leaving forever. It’s just a week.”
A small smile curves his lips. “Yeah?”
“We’re brothers, right?”
“Sure, Kid. Brothers.”
“And brothers stick together. No matter what.”
“No matter what.”
“So then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“I always worry.”
I laugh. “That’s because you’re you. That’s what you do. And there’s nothing wrong with you, either.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he says.
We’re quiet for a time. Just a thing brothers do, I guess. Finally, “Bear?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m doing the right thing. Right?”
“About?”
“Everything.”
He shrugs. “I think so. I hope so. We’ll find out, I guess. And even if it’s not, and even if it doesn’t go like we think it will, then you come back to me and I’ll put you back together and make sure all the little cracks hold together.”
I nod. “How do we think it’s going to go?”
“That’s the unknown, isn’t it? Life sucks like that sometimes.”
“I don’t know when you got so smart,” I tell him. Seriously. Remember Bear from back in the day? He’d never have been able to think like this.
He laughs. “Weird, right?”
“Way weird.” A pause. “I’ll be fine,” I say. “I think.”
“Of course you will.” He kicks off his shoes and lies down on the grass, staring up at the sky turning slow pink, rays of the sun streaked against the clouds.
I lie down beside him, shoulder to shoulder.
We watch the sky, Bear and me.
And I’m right where I need to be.
DOM’S THE last to leave. Everyone else is upstairs settling in for the night. Well, at least Bear and Otter are. I’m sure Corey’s waiting for me to come up and shove a red-hot poker up his ass and wallow in his death cries. I shall have my revenge this night.
We stand at the front door to the Green Monstrosity. The bulb on the porch light is burned out, and his face is cast in shadow.
“Sorry about earlier,” I say with a grimace. “Lunch, I mean. It was weird. I made it weird.”
He shrugs as his voice rumbles out of his chest. “It’s gonna take time, I think.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“We’ll get there, though.”
I don’t know if I quite believe that, but if he does, the least I can do is try. “Yeah, Dom.”
“I didn’t….” He stops. Takes a breath. Sighs. “Didn’t know Corey was going to ask that. About your trip. I didn’t mean to shoehorn my way in.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t. That’s… that’s Corey for you. Besides, it’ll be good.”
“You think?”
“Sure. We’ll have fun. You can keep me out of trouble.”
He chuckles. “I’ll do my best.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but all that comes out is “I better go.”
“Okay. I’ll call you. Or something.”
“I’d like that.”
Why does this feel like the end of an awkwardly bad first date? “Great. That’d be… great.”
“Night, Tyson.”
“Bye.”
I shut the door. Lock it. Press my forehead against the wood. Berate myself for a million things. Like, how I could have sounded so dumb. Or so childish. Or so immature. Or so ridiculous. Or so—
There’s a knock at the door. Almost like I was expecting it, by the way I pull it open.
Light spills out onto Dom. He looks nervous. Unsure. He reaches up and scratches the back of his head and looks down toward his feet. “I… I got you something,” he says. “For your birthday.”
“Oh, hey! You didn’t need to—”
He thrusts a badly wrapped package into my hands. It’s heavy. Something shifts and rattles inside.
I look up at him, not knowing what to expect. He nods and then turns, walks out to his car. Gets in. Starts it. Drives away.
All without another word.
I watch as the taillights fade into the dark. Eventually, they’re gone and I’m alone.
I close the door.
Sit on the floor, my back against the wall.
Put the package between my legs. Slide my fingers underneath the paper. It tears easily. It sounds so loud in the quiet of the house.
Inside is a wooden box, carved ornately with little flowers and leaves on the lid, swirling as if they’d once grown but long since died and hardened and became part of the box. The wood itself is dark and smooth, well-oiled and cared for. Brass hinges attach at the rear.
I lift the lid.
There’s a note on top, folded in half. I take it out and see the familiar scrawl inside.
Always meant for you to have this. I guess I thought I’d have more time to make sure you got it. Not your fault.
I know sometimes these things happen. That’s life.
This belonged to my mother. It’s one of the few things left of her. You never knew her, of course, but I think she’d like you to have it. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. But I think it’s true.
Inside is everything, Tyson. Everything about you and me.
Everything that makes us who we are.
The note falls at my side.
I look inside the box.
It’s our story.
And it is. Oh my God, it is. Little things. All these little things.
Here is a ticket stub for the first movie we ever saw together, some horrendous summer blockbuster with special effects and explosions that we both made fun of but secretly loved.
Here is a page from an awful epic poem I’d written about the battle against that malicious force known as Santa/Satan.
Here is a tattered photograph of us standing side by side, and I’m so small next to him. Just a little guy. Both our faces are upturned and exploding in color as we watch fireworks burst above us.
Here is a note I’d written him and left in his car when I was eleven, lamenting my new teacher and how trivial she seemed, and didn’t Dominic think the public school system was failing me? Didn’t he think it’d be better if I was homeschooled? We’ll have to find some way to trick Bear into doing this, I wrote. Or I should just skip to high school and go to class with you. That would probably be the wisest decision. Let us work on a plan tonight.
Here is a copy of Brave New World, the first thing I’d ever given him. It was new when I bought it. Now it’s lovingly worn, having been read countless times.
Here is a receipt for Skee-Ball on the boardwalk.
Here is a pair of broken sunglasses, his that I’d accidentally sat on and smashed.
Here is the funky pair I’d bought to replace the broken ones, bright green and ridiculous.
Here are these things. Here are all these little things, inconsequential to others, but everything to me. I find more and more and more. A button. A pin. Notes and stubs and photos and bits of strings and fabric and everything. The farther I dig, the deeper it goes until I am surrounded by him and me, until I am engulfed by everything that made us who we are.
This tin.
This test score.
This birthday candle.
This Christmas ornament.
This PETA flyer.
This broken bracelet.
It’s all us. Every bit. Every piece. Every part.
Eventually, I reach the bottom. My face is wet, and I do nothing to wipe my eyes, even as they blur. It’s not as hard to breathe as I thought such a thing would be.
There’s one last thing in the box. Another folded note.
I take it out. Open.
I meant what I said that day when we first met.
It’s inevitable, Tyson.
Your friend, always,
Dom
I place the note back at the bottom. I pick up all the pieces of us and place them back into the box. Eventually, it’s all inside and I put the first note back on top. I close the lid. I trace over the leaves in the wood.
This belonged to my mother. It’s one of the few things left of her.
His mother, who had died so unfairly at the hands of his abusive father. Dom tried to stop him. Had even stabbed him a few times. But it was already too late.
He’d screamed then. He’d screamed for hours, until he could scream no more, his vocal cords ruptured. It went on for hours and hours. He only stopped when it became physically impossible for him to continue.
And now he’d given part of me to her. Her name had been Crystal, I think.
I don’t… no.
It doesn’t matter now. How I feel. How I don’t want to feel. What I did. What he did. What we didn’t do. None of it matters.
He’s Dom. I’m Ty.
We’re inevitable. That’s all that matters.