4.
Where Tyson Says Good-Bye
Three months later
KEEP IT together, I tell myself. You can do this. You can do this just fine. It’s not forever. It’s just for now.
“Kid,” Bear says gently from behind me. “We have to get going. Daylight’s wasting.”
“Sure,” I say, taking one last look around my room in the Green Monstrosity.
He puts a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll be back before you know it,” he says. “Thanksgiving or Christmas, whatever you want.”
“Sure.” I take it back! This isn’t what I want! Unpack everything! Put it all back where you got it!
“Dominic is waiting downstairs,” Bear says.
“Okay.” The ground shakes beneath my feet.
“You sure this is what you want?” he asks.
I laugh. It sounds slightly hysterical. “Little late now, isn’t it?”
He walks up behind me and puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’s never too late, Kid,” he says. “We do what you need to do. It’s that simple.”
It’s not, though. I’ve already uprooted our lives to move across the country. I can’t back out now. If I can’t do it for myself, then I can at least do it for my brother.
“I’m fine,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “I’m ready.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me out of the room. The weight of his arm is a familiar thing, and it makes the long walk down the stairs easier. I am breathing. I am breathing.
I say good-bye to Anna, who has tears in her eyes.
I say good-bye to Creed, who roughly slaps my back when he hugs me.
I say good-bye to JJ, who doesn’t really seem to care what’s going on.
I say good-bye to Stephanie and Ian Grant, who tell me they’ll see me soon.
I say good-bye to Alice and Jerry Thompson, who say they’re so very proud of me.
I say good-bye to Stacey, and I think, You won’t be around long, so don’t get too comfortable. I’m ashamed at this thought and turn away before she can see it on my face.
I say good-bye to Erica Sharp, the attorney who helped me belong to Bear, who says she always knew I’d get this far.
I say good-bye to Georgia Erlichman, the social worker, who says something to me in German I can’t quite understand.
I’m handed a phone, and Eddie Egan, the therapist who taught me how to breathe, says he’s so sorry he can’t be there, but that he’s proud of me, and to remember what I’d learned from him.
I say good-bye to the Green Monstrosity, running my fingers along the wall near the door.
I say good-bye to Mrs. Paquinn, though she’s been gone a long time.
They gather, all of them, on the front lawn of our home. They talk. They laugh. They cry. I’m in the middle of them all, and I’m surrounded by so much that it’s like being caught in the middle of a storm that I don’t want to escape.
But then a hand grabs my own and pulls me away. Away from the crowd. Away from the noise. Away from the good-byes.
We go around the side of the Green Monstrosity, hiding away from the world. As soon as he lets go of my hand, I launch myself at him and he catches me in those big arms of his, and I can feel his heartbeat against my own. Everything is so bright. Everything feels so real. The hairs on his arms brush against the skin of my waist where my shirt has risen. His breath is harsh and heavy against my ear. He grips me tighter, as if he can stop this from happening, as if he can stop me from leaving. And I realize that he probably could. If he really wanted to. Even though we both know it’s too late, and we both know he won’t, he probably could.
Don’t go, he’d say. Please don’t ever leave me.
Okay, I’d reply. Okay.
But he doesn’t ask.
Minutes go by. Maybe hours. Days.
Finally, he sets me down.
I hope he held me close enough to cause bruises.
He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.
I don’t know what to say in return. How do you say thank you to someone who has made your life complete? How do you say thank you to someone you can’t imagine your life without?
I don’t know the answer to that.
Bear calls my name. It’s time to go, he says.
No. It can’t be. I still have so much left to say. The words won’t come, even though I know they’re there.
Bear calls my name again.
Dominic looks frustrated. He shakes his head.
“Good-bye,” I whisper.
Then I turn and walk away. I leave him there, standing next to the Green Monstrosity. Every step hurts, but I am going to do great things. I am going to make this world a better place. Tell me to stay and I will! that small part of me screams. Call me back and tell me never to leave!
I’m in the car.
Our family waves. So long, they say. See you soon, they shout.
“You ready?” Otter asks me from the driver’s seat.
No. “Yeah.”
“You okay?” Bear asks.
No. “Yeah.”
“We’ll be back,” he says again.
“I can breathe,” I whisper.
Bear takes Otter’s hand and they smile at each other.
I look out the window as we start to pull away. Dom stands where I left him. I press my hand against the window, palm flat. He raises his hand in return, and even though he can’t hear me, I promise I’ll come back. For him. For us. It’s foolish, I know. It’s not how the world works. But I am sixteen years old, and though I may be different from most people my age, I am still young enough to believe that I can do anything I set my mind to. And so I promise him. I love you, I think. And I believe I always will.
He disappears from view.
Twenty minutes later, we pass out of Seafare, Oregon. The sun rises in the sky ahead of us as we travel east, and I tell myself this is just a bump in the road. One day, I’ll look back at all of this and laugh.
I’ll just laugh.