Four days later, I’m struggling to accept that my time in New York has come to an end. For an entire year I counted down the days until I could come to the city, and now the experience I was so excited about is all over. My six weeks are up. Tyler’s year here is done. It’s time to head back to Santa Monica and the beach and the promenade and the pier. It’s time for us to go home.
As I’m rolling my suitcase into the living room, I’m beginning to feel nostalgic. It’s true what people say about New York City—it really, really is incredible. I’ll miss being woken up by the sound of the traffic outside. I’ll miss the constant flow of people on the sidewalks. I’ll miss riding the godawful subway. Central Park. The endless buzz of noise. Baseball. The hard accents. I think I’ll miss every single thing about this city, and it’s clear now why it’s so iconic.
“Are you ready?” I hear Tyler ask as he walks up behind me.
I glance over my shoulder to him and wistfully sigh, my smile sad. “I guess so.”
He looks younger today, mostly due to the fact that this morning he decided to shave completely. Now there’s no stubble whatsoever and his jaw is smooth and bare. It’s knocked a few years off him, so he looks nineteen for once. Walking across the room, he dumps his black duffel bag on the couch and then turns back to face me, eyeing up my suitcase. It’s completely overpacked. It could be that I’ve bought a lot of stuff while I’ve been in the city or it could be that everything has just been thrown in carelessly, but either way, it looks so huge that I’m starting to worry that my luggage will be over the weight limit. It took me five minutes to zip it up, and even now I can see it threatening to burst open.
“You know, you could have just shipped half your stuff when I did,” Tyler says, finally letting out a laugh. When he walks over, he tilts my suitcase onto the floor and crouches down, opening it. I fold my arms across my chest and watch him as he grabs a pile of my things, then moves back across the room to place them into his own luggage. “Try it now,” he says.
Rolling my eyes, I attempt to zip up my suitcase once more, and this time it closes much more willingly. I straighten up and smile, and then quickly dart into his bedroom one last time to grab my shoes and my backpack. They’re both lying on the floor, but before I scoop them up I run my eyes over the room. It’s completely bare. No posters on the walls. Nothing in the closet. The room usually smells like Tyler, of cologne and firewood, but not today. Today the room is empty. Tyler’s car and the majority of his belongings were shipped across the country three days ago.
The past few days, we’ve hardly been in the apartment. We’ve been too busy trying to fill our final days with as many memories as possible, like revisiting the main tourist attractions once more before we leave and searching for coffee shops that we haven’t yet stopped at and playing baseball again at Central Park and spending an entire day traveling between each of the four other boroughs. Last night, Tyler even took me to Pietrasanta again to conclude our summer the exact same way we started it, and it couldn’t have been any more perfect.
Slipping on my Converse and carrying my backpack through into the living room, I frown. Tyler’s smile fades, his expression questioning. “I don’t want to go home,” I admit.
Tyler doesn’t reply for a while, only looks at me with his head angled a degree to the side, his eyes smoldering. “Aren’t you excited to tell your dad that you’re so deeply in love with me?” he finally says, trying his hardest to suppress both his laughter and his smirk.
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” My voice is dripping with sarcasm, yet I’m smiling. “You know, since you’re quite the charmer.”
Tyler chuckles as he shakes his head. We both know he and my dad have never really bonded all that well, so out of all the guys I could have fallen in love with, I don’t think my dad will be too impressed that it’s Tyler. And that’s if he can even get over the fact that we’re stepsiblings first.
The door to Snake’s bedroom swings open and Snake sticks his head around it, leaning against the frame. “You guys are still here?”
“You think we’d leave without saying goodbye to you, Stephen Rivera?” Tyler shoots back, narrowing his eyes challengingly as he advances across the room toward his roommate.
“God, I’m so glad I’m getting rid of you,” Snake mutters, and he grins as they embrace one another in one of those half-hugs, thumping each other on the back.
It feels just like yesterday morning all over again, when all three of us were saying goodbye to Emily. It was just after 5AM and we were all half asleep, and Emily was getting upset. We promised we’d all stay in touch. Even joked about a yearly reunion. These kinds of goodbyes are the scary goodbyes. The goodbyes where you know the chances of seeing each other again are very slim. Emily will be back in London by now, and by tonight Tyler and I will be in Santa Monica. Snake’s the only one left in New York, with his final year of college still to go. Honestly, I don’t think I could have asked for two better people to enjoy my trip to New York with, and I still couldn’t be more grateful for their acceptance. I’m really going to miss them both.
Tyler and Snake reflect on the past year for a while, laughing and playfully insulting each other before sighing. Snake even draws me into a hug at that point. He tells me that I’m not that bad, and I tell him that he’s not that bad either. We smile at each other before he musters up one final Portland joke, and then Tyler and I grab our luggage and we leave the apartment for the very last time.
It’s nearing eight back on the West Coast by the time we arrive in LA. We’re at LAX, of course, and Tyler and I spend a good twenty minutes lingering by the baggage carousel before our luggage is the last to roll around. It’s what we get for being among the first few people to check in back at Newark. And even though Tyler has grown gruff with impatience, he manages to lighten up again by the time we start to make our way across the arrivals level of Terminal 6.
It doesn’t take us long to spot Jamie. It’s hard to miss him. He comes out of nowhere and makes a beeline straight for us, throwing a hand up into the air to grab our attention. His entire face is dominated by a grin. It’s a rather warm feeling seeing Jamie happy to see us, and for a moment coming back home doesn’t seem so bad anymore.
“There he is,” I say, and when I glance sideways at Tyler, he’s barely even listening to me. He’s too focused on his brother, his smile reaching his eyes.
Only a few moments later Jamie finally reaches us, and Tyler immediately draws him into a hug. I hang back a step or two, my own smile growing as I watch the two of them. After spending six weeks with Tyler, I’ve forgotten that the rest of our family hasn’t seen him in over a year.
Tyler pulls away after a while, resting his hands on Jamie’s shoulders as he studies him with wide eyes. “Man, I hardly even recognize you!” Tyler says with a laugh. “When’d you get this tall? And what’d you do to your hair?”
Jamie shrugs a little sheepishly, awkwardly reaching up to touch his hair. I don’t really see that much of a drastic change, mostly because I haven’t been gone for so long, but Jamie has grown several inches and cut his hair over the past year. It’s been cut short for months now and his height is quickly catching up with Tyler’s. Both of them are way taller than me. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Jamie says, slightly embarrassed. He averts his eyes to me instead. “How was New York?”
“Amazing,” I say. I refrain from exchanging a knowing glance with Tyler, and instead I bite my lip and keep my eyes trained on Jamie. “Did you manage to get here alright?”
“Yeah. Eventually,” he answers. Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, he pulls out a set of car keys. “Ended up on the lower level first. Finally found my way up to the parking lots. Mom’s directions weren’t that clear.”
“Hey,” Tyler says, lunging forward. He snatches the keys from Jamie’s hand and holds them up, scrutinizing them before he shifts his gaze back to his brother. “She gave you the Range Rover? What the hell? Mom never let me drive it when I was your age. Didn’t she buy you that BMW? Where’s that?”
“Uh, I totaled the front bumper last week,” Jamie admits, dropping his eyes to the floor of the terminal as color rises to his cheeks. “I hit a street light. It’s at Hugh Carter’s garage right now, so you can tell Dean to fix it up real nice for me and then throw in a discount while he’s at it,” he jokes, but neither Tyler nor I laugh.
We exchange a sideways glance, our smiles faltering. Tyler runs a hand through his hair and sighs just as there’s an announcement over the intercom. It allows for us to be silent for a moment without Jamie wondering why we’ve gone quiet. Perhaps we should mention the fact that Dean no longer wants to deal with Tyler and me and that I don’t think Dean or his dad will be offering discounts to our family on our car repairs anytime soon, but it just doesn’t feel like the right time.
“Let’s get going,” Tyler says, shrugging the strap of his duffel bag further along his shoulder as he nudges Jamie forward, nodding toward the exit. “I wanna see these shitty driving skills of yours.”
“Better than yours,” Jamie mutters, but he’s still grinning as he grabs the keys back from Tyler. He dangles them from his index finger and I notice that there’s a photo attached amongst the collection of key rings Ella has added over the years. It’s only a small photo, one of Tyler, Jamie and Chase when they were much younger. I bet Ella can’t wait to see her eldest son. I can picture her already, probably pacing the house as she waits for him to return.
As Tyler and Jamie head off, Tyler’s arm slung over his brother’s shoulders, I wheel my suitcase along behind them. I slowly exhale, finding myself smiling almost sadly. It’s hard to believe that Tyler’s been gone for an entire year, and honestly, I’m not quite sure how he’s managed to cope with being on his own for so long. Sure, he might have smoked weed again over the past year, but not anymore. It’s comforting to know that he’s here again. That he’s home.
“Hey, have I ever hit a street light?” Tyler shoots back at Jamie, his tone light and playful. “Never, because I’m the better driver.”
“Really?” Jamie asks with an air of sarcasm. “Because your car arrived last night and you definitely need some new tires. What the hell did you do to them?”
“You can blame Eden for that,” Tyler murmurs, glancing over his shoulder at me. He smirks and I glare back in return, pushing the back of his shoulder.
We head out of the terminal, making our way across the roadways to the Terminal 6 parking structure, following Jamie deep inside the lower level until we spot Ella’s car. It’s wedged into a tight spot and Tyler immediately clucks his tongue in disapproval as Jamie pops the trunk.
“What?” Jamie demands as he folds his arms across his chest in agitation, lingering by the door to the driver’s seat.
“Shit parking skills too,” Tyler comments. Throwing his duffel bag into the trunk, he turns around and takes my suitcase from me, still smiling as he places it inside. It still weighs a tonne and I couldn’t even pull it off the baggage carousel on my own without his help, let alone lift it, so I say thanks and then slide into the backseat.
Tyler slams the trunk shut again with a thud before both he and Jamie climb into the car, throwing several more remarks at one another while Jamie starts up the engine and begins the difficult task of navigating his way out of the airport grounds. Kudos to him for offering to pick us up, because if I were him, I’d have definitely said no. Far too many looping roads. Far too easy to end up on the wrong boulevard.
Nonetheless, with Tyler’s help, Jamie manages to get us onto Lincoln Boulevard, heading north straight for Santa Monica. It’s the easiest route back to the city. I relax in the backseat as he drives, slumped against the leather while I gaze out of the window. It feels strange being able to see what’s in the distance. It feels odd not having buildings and skyscrapers towering over us. By now the sun has slowly begun to disappear, the sky a gorgeous orange. The radio is playing quietly in the background as Tyler and Jamie talk softly for the majority of the ride, catching up on a year’s worth of conversations and laughing every few minutes. I keep out of the conversation and instead fumble around with the AC in the back so that it’s directed straight at my face, and then I cross my legs on the seat and close my eyes, resting my head against the window. So peaceful. So chilled out. So California.
Twenty minutes later, just as we’re arriving into Santa Monica, my attention is grabbed when I hear Jamie say, “There’s something I need to tell you. But later.”
“Why not tell me right now?” Tyler asks. Slowly, I peel open my eyes slightly, not moving an inch as I listen.
“Uh,” Jamie says, glancing in the rearview mirror at me. I squeeze my eyes shut again, hoping that I’ll pass as being asleep. “Eden’s here.”
“And?” Tyler fires back. His tone is no longer gentle, but aggravated. “Unless you’ve knocked up that girlfriend of yours or something, then whatever you gotta tell me you can tell me right now. What is it?”
When I peek through my eyelids again, I notice the way Jamie turns to look directly at the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel. He remains quiet for a while, his posture stiff. Tyler angles his body to face him as he narrows his eyes, waiting. Very slowly, Jamie’s shoulders sink as he sighs deeply. “I’m only telling you this because Mom was planning not to, and I just think you should know,” he says. He sounds nervous and he pauses again for a long moment. Finally, he glances directly at Tyler, and that’s when he says the words I least expect to hear. “Dad’s out.”
Tyler’s lips part. “What?”
“He got out a couple weeks ago,” Jamie says, voice feeble. When I glance at the rearview mirror, I can see him frowning. Tyler, however, turns pale as he falls back against the seat, staring blankly out of the windshield as he tries to process the news Jamie has just hit him with. The radio is still playing, the quirky pop song out of place in the tense atmosphere of the car.
I really do open my eyes wide this time, pushing myself up from my slumped position. I’m a little shocked too. I’ve always known their dad was in prison. I’d only ever imagined him being locked up in a cell. But what I’d never thought about was the fact that one day he’d be getting out, because that’s the part you don’t think about. You don’t think about that person walking the streets again. You don’t think about that person having the free will again to do whatever they want. You don’t think about that person living a life again. That’s the scary part. That’s the part that no one wants to think about.
“It’s been seven years already?” Tyler asks almost in disbelief as he shoots forward, his body upright. Pressing a hand to the dashboard, he releases his seatbelt and turns directly to face Jamie, eyes fierce, voice angry. “I thought it’d only been six,” he snaps. “It’s only been fucking six!”
“It’s been seven,” Jamie mumbles. He glances between Tyler and the road as he tries to focus on his driving, but Tyler’s growing fury is making it difficult for him. “Mom’s hardly telling me anything,” Jamie continues, “but do you remember Wesley Meyer? He came around so often we used to call him Uncle Wes?” Again, he glances quickly at Tyler to gauge his response, but Tyler’s only clenching his jaw in return. “Well, Mom thinks Dad’s been staying at his place.”
“He’s in the fucking city?” Tyler hisses, immediately turning off the radio. The car falls silent, the only noise the sound of the engine as we continue through Santa Monica, crossing Pico Boulevard. “He’s here?”
From the backseat, I feel helpless. There’s nothing I can do about the situation, but I do know that Tyler is growing more and more livid with each passing second, so I move forward and place my hand on his shoulder. I squeeze tightly to let him know that I’m here.
“Drive there,” Tyler orders out of nowhere, thumping his fist twice against the dashboard as he fixes Jamie with a firm, slightly threatening glare.
“What?”
“Wesley Meyer’s place. Right now.”
“Tyler . . .” Jamie tapers off and shakes his head. “I’m not driving you over there.”
“Alright, then pull over.” Angling his body away from Jamie and toward the door instead, he reaches for the handle and glances back at Jamie again over his shoulder, still glaring. Only this time, he’s waiting.
“I’m not pulling over,” Jamie says. He grips the steering wheel even tighter.
“I’m not kidding, Jay!” Tyler growls, slamming his palm down against the dashboard once again. The abruptness startles Jamie, because he flinches and the car swerves slightly to the right, almost mounting the curb. If Ella’s car gets home without a single scratch, then I’m pretty sure that at the very least the dashboard will have some dents in it. “Pull the fuck over.”
Groaning, Jamie finally succumbs to the pressure. Pulling up against the sidewalk, he leaves the engine running as he throws open the car door and slides out. “You know this is a stupid idea,” he mutters. Kicking at the road, he makes his way around the vehicle.
Tyler’s just about to push open his own door, but before he can jump out I hold his shoulder tight against the back of the seat to prevent him from moving. Unbuckling my seatbelt with my free hand, I lean forward over the center console and tilt my head to look at him. “What are you doing, Tyler?”
Now that I can look directly into his eyes, I can tell just how enraged he really is. Part of me can’t blame him for being aggravated, but part of me is also wondering what’s running through his mind right now. Knowing how irrational Tyler can be, I’m a little concerned. Especially with the way he’s looking back at me, his eyes blazing and his jaw tight. Refusing to give me an answer, he shrugs my grip off his shoulder and kicks open the car door, stepping out onto the sidewalk.
“Tyler!” I yell, but he’s already out of the car and walking around to the driver’s side. Jamie slips into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him, then folding his arms across his chest in defeat. Even I frown and settle into the backseat again, twiddling my thumbs. I’m unsure of what I’m supposed to do.
Tyler slides into the car behind the wheel, taking a moment or two to adjust to the automatic controls, then he takes off. Ella’s car screeches along Ninth Street controlled by Tyler’s fury as he continues to head north through the city. I try to catch his eye in the rearview mirror a couple times, but he never seems to be checking it, so he doesn’t notice.
“This is why Mom didn’t want to tell you,” Jamie says, throwing his hands up in exasperation as Tyler runs a stop sign. “She knew you’d flip out.”
Tyler doesn’t reply to his brother, the same way he didn’t reply to me, and I think both Jamie and I have figured out by now that he’s done talking. Neither of us attempts to say anything more. We only exchange concerned glances and shrugs as Tyler drives. We also both know exactly where he’s heading, yet there’s nothing we can do about it. He even taps his index fingers against the steering wheel as the anger continues to build up inside of him.
And in less than ten minutes, the car is crawling eastbound along Alta Avenue as Tyler glances from left to right, his eyes searching. He slams on the brakes at the intersection of Twenty-fifth Street, his glare coming to rest on one specific house. The one before us right now on the corner, with the white bricking and the red roof tiles. It’s Wesley Meyer’s house, whoever the hell he is, which means that it is also Tyler and Jamie’s dad’s current place of residence. And of course, that is the sole reason why we’re even here. Because of their dad.
Tyler cuts the engine, allowing silence to fall as he stares at the house. That’s all he does. Just stares as he breathes heavily, clenching his jaw over and over again. It’s like he’s mentally fighting with himself over whether or not he should get out of the car.
“So what?” Jamie asks after a minute or so, breaking the tense silence. “You’re gonna walk up to that door and tell him you hate him? Throw a punch? Kick his ass?”
Tyler grinds his teeth together and angles his face even more toward the window, as far away from Jamie’s stern glare as he can get. “You don’t get it,” he hisses, and the glass steams up.
“Hey,” Jamie says quickly, shaking his head despite the fact that Tyler’s not even looking, “you don’t think I wanna beat the hell out of him too? For your sake? But c’mon. Think about it. What’s the point? It’s stupid, and Mom’ll only have a breakdown if she knows you went near him.”
Jamie’s speaking a lot of sense, but it only seems to push Tyler toward the idea of getting out of the car, because that’s exactly what he does. He throws open the car door and slides out just as I’m parting my lips to speak, and immediately I jump out too. It’s almost like a reflex action to go after Tyler by now, and I run around the vehicle and throw my body in front of his on the middle of the lawn. Pressing my hands hard against his chest, I push him back a step.
“Jamie’s right,” I say. “You don’t want to do this.”
“I do.” He still has that terrifying look in his eyes that I’m not quite used to anymore. Two years ago, I was. Now? Not so much. It’s not him anymore. Tyler lost all that hostility a while ago, and it was replaced by all the positivity that came into his life while using his past as a means to help others. Yet now it seems like that’s all gone again. That aggravation is back. The kid with the hardened expression and the fierce eyes, the kid who spent every second of every day loathing his father is exactly who’s standing in front of me right now. “Why the fuck shouldn’t I?”
And just like I did back then, I try my best to help to do what’s right for him. And right now, the best thing for him is to get away from this house before he does something he’ll regret. “Because you’ve been okay for almost two years now,” I whisper. My hands are still pressed to his chest, so I can feel his heart beating hard and fast beneath my palms. “Please don’t get wrapped up in all of this mess again. Look what it did to you before, Tyler. Just stay away from him.”
“Eden,” Tyler says slowly through gritted teeth. Reaching up, he takes both of my hands in his, still holding them against his chest. His heart seems to beat even faster as his eyes soften up for the briefest of moments. “I want him to see me now. I just wanna stand in front of him for the first time in seven years. I need him to know that he messed up, because he doesn’t get to be a part of our lives anymore. Not mine, not Jamie’s, not Chase’s, not Mom’s. We’re all doing perfectly fucking fine without him now. I want him to know that.” Tilting his head down, he sighs and squeezes my hands. After a moment, he glances back up. “And maybe swing a fist or two.”
“I get it,” I say, keeping my voice low. I fear that if we raise our voices any louder, his dad might hear us from inside. That’s if he’s even here in the first place. “I get that you wanna face up to him. I can’t blame you. But Tyler, think about it. What happens if you snap the second you see him again? You’re already mad, so just drop it. At least for tonight. You can deal with your dad another time. You need to let all of this sink in first, okay?”
Tyler glances over my shoulder toward the house. He studies it for a while, a range of emotions flickering in his eyes. I can’t work out exactly what he’s feeling. They change too fast.
Relaxing his jaw, he swallows and looks back to me. “Okay,” he whispers. Letting go of my hands, he moves his to my face, gently cupping my cheeks as he tilts my chin up so I can look at him more directly. “Okay.” Closing his eyes, he leans in, pressing his lips softly and slowly against mine. It takes me aback for a split second: It’s so out of place amidst his rage. I’m not sure what the reason behind it is, whether it’s for comfort or for reassurance or both, but I do know that it’s clear Tyler has forgotten we’re not alone.
As panic sweeps through me, I quickly recoil. Pulling my lips away from Tyler’s, I push him away from me and then fire my eyes over to the Range Rover still parked out on the road. Through the windshield, our brother is blinking back at us.