YES, MA’AM
For the first night in two years, I don’t fall asleep with porn. Not because I want to quit; I just can’t stop thinking about Dez or what she said about being consumers. As I fall asleep, Dez’s voice echoes in my ears. Its sharp, sexy, gentle tone is my lullaby.
—
I’m standing on one side of the Deception Pass bridge with my family on the other, but the bridge is gone. Crumbled into the water below. I have Settlers cards in my hand, but none of them are ore so I can’t build a new bridge. I don’t have the resources.
I’m scared.
In seconds, my parents disappear. Then it’s just Addy. She smiles then builds a town center, but it’s not a tiny wooden token. It’s a real town center with real people. A sign on the biggest building says PORTLAND. She goes inside and disappears.
Deception Pass turns into shadow, and it surrounds me like a prison. I can’t see more than five feet in front of me. Sometimes I hear voices, but I never know where they are—if they’re in the forest or the water. If I try to chase them, I only feel like I’m getting farther and farther away from where I first was, where my family knew I was. Where someone could find me. Eventually I stop chasing the voices. To survive, I become one with the crush of darkness. I stop thinking about ways out and everything I had before the darkness came. I stop thinking of destinations and only consider the five feet I can see. This five feet is my new Deception Pass and I’m fine with it.
—
I wake up at 4:30 in chills. I stare at the ceiling. Dad comes in a few minutes later.
“You’re already awake?” he says. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to enjoy going over to Mr. Cratcher’s house. You’re getting soft already.”
“Dad, too early for insults.”
“Time of day has never stopped you.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the wizened adult. I’m supposed to be the foolish sixteen-year-old. If you act like me, it throws the earth off its 23.5-degree axis.”
“If you keep talking to me like this, I’m going to kick your ass so hard you’ll be put on a 23.4-degree axis.”
I laugh because it’s the first glimpse of Old Dad I’ve seen since The Woman left. “There we go, that’s better,” I say. “Apocalypse not now, world saved.”
Downstairs we both pour ourselves bowls of Cocoa Puffs. As I’m lifting a spoonful to my mouth, my phone buzzes. I drop my spoon into the bowl, causing milk to splash onto the table. I jam my hand into my pocket.
It’s Addy.
I’m coming to see you tonight.
Addy, I’m so sorry.
We’ll talk about it tonight, Papi.
I put my phone back in my pocket. Even though I don’t know what it means, just seeing her use the word Papi makes me feel like someone turned on a light. The amount of rightness that fills me makes me realize I can’t shut Addy out anymore. I love her too much to lose her. Even if she disappeared thinking it was for the greater good, I can lose everyone else in the world, but not her.
Dad’s eyes twitch back and forth between his cereal and the Nicholas Sparks book on the walnut mail table pressed against the corner of the wall.
I let out a small laugh. “You really want to read it, don’t you?”
“I really want to.”
“Why?”
“So I know what a good manuscript looks like.”
“Bucket’a’bull, Dad. You rep Allison Beaker, Charles Mematiane, and sci-fi extraordinaire Colt Cax. You already know what a good MS looks like.”
He throws his hands in the air defensively. “Fine, so I still want to figure out how to get your mom back. There are so many men who just give up on love, though. Why can’t I be one willing to fight for it? Doesn’t the world need that?”
I let out two good, fake throw-up noises and point at my neck. “Sorry. Cluster of Cocoa Puffs stuck in my throat.”
“Grow up, kid,” he says, shoving my head to the side.
The annoyed smile on his face makes me laugh. I’ve got to admit, I’ve liked my dad a lot more since I got suspended from school, and I don’t say either part of that sentence a lot.
—
I wait until 5:05 to knock on Mr. Crotcher’s door, but after five knocks, he still hasn’t answered.
“Hello?” I say, reaching for the doorknob. It’s unlocked.
I peek into the living room.
“Mr. Crotcher?”
I walk up the stairs on my tiptoes, trying to keep the old wood from groaning under me. I push the study door open, and Mr. Crotcher is in the corner, sitting at his computer. He isn’t moving. Is he dead? I wouldn’t be surprised if he was. The guy probably worked with the hottest roving minstrels and bards in the medieval ages.
I walk up to him and poke him in the shoulder.
He snaps awake, taking inventory of his surroundings. I glance at an open notebook by his hands. He’s written something, but all I have the chance to read is “Dear God, why am I” before he slams the book shut and places it on a shelf above his desk.
He stands and stretches. “Adam, my apologies. I stayed up late last night trying to work out why some microphones weren’t recognized by the DAW.”
“The DAW, Mr. Crotcher?”
“Yes, it’s an acronym for Digital Audio Workstation. The program you mix and record in.” He pauses like he’s just realized I’ve been calling him Mr. Crotcher. “What are your thoughts on the group last night?”
I don’t want to talk about last night. I actually want Mr. Crotcher to go on another rant about music and how it’s like life.
“It was fine.”
“Fascinating.”
“Why do you say that?” I snap. “You said that yesterday, too.”
“Say what?”
“‘Fascinating.’ It’s like I’m a lab experiment or something.”
“Maybe you are.” He gives me a knowing look. “Would it be a problem if you were?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to be fascinating. I’m not just a result in some experiment. My reactions aren’t just … fascinating.”
Mr. Crotcher smiles. “How right you are. So then, answer me this. If you aren’t fascinating, what are you?”
This may be the stupidest question I’ve ever been asked.
“What?” I say, disgusted.
“You are not a fixed outcome or a result. Correct?”
“Right. That’s what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you?”
“I—I don’t know. Why is that even a question?”
“Think about it for a while. When you have an answer, let me know. Now, let’s record the first track of our album. Just give me a few minutes to go over the lyrics first. I have some things I want to change.”
—
Addy pulls into the driveway, her favorite singer, which also happens to be The Woman’s favorite singer, Amelia Hunt, is blasting out her windows. I’m sitting on our stairs waiting for her and the first thing I see is that there’s a bunch of stuff in the passenger seat.
She turns off the truck. Amelia Hunt stops singing “Ain’t No Man Worth Your Soul” as Addy gets out and walks straight over to me.
“Okay, I’m going to get a little preachy, but you’re going to listen to me, and you’re going to like it, because I’m me. Capiche?”
I nod. I don’t feel like finding out what would happen if I said, “No capiche.”
“I miss my little brother. I miss him a lot, and I want him to come back. I get that the divorce hurts, Adam. I really do. But you’re letting it kill you, and me. I haven’t heard an honest feeling from you in two years, and I haven’t been pushy because I didn’t want …”
“I know,” I interrupt. I feel more of a need to make sure I never have to go as long as I have without Addy again than to keep her from my feelings. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.”
Addy’s head snaps back. “Really? That’s it? I didn’t even get to my ultimatum.”
“You don’t have to. I’ve been a bad brother. Person. Just let me try to tell you stuff again.”
“Well then,” she says, walking back to her truck and grabbing a box and a duffle bag off the passenger seat. “I guess I’m moving in.”
“Wait, what do you mean ‘moving in’?”
She points to her truck. “I take bag and box, and I move back into my old room. Honey child, I stay with you for an indefinite amount of time.”
“You’re kidding me.”
She smiles. “It was the ultimatum. You agree to be honest with me, and I move back for a bit to help you straighten out. You don’t, I leave without saying another word.”
The news makes me feel like my veins are flooded with light, but I play it off. “You wouldn’t have silently left. You would have said something. You’re incapable of just walking away.”
She drops her stuff on the ground, gets in her truck, and drives away.
I watch the street, waiting for her truck to pull back around. My phone rings after a good five minutes.
“See?” I say, “you couldn’t do it.”
“Yo woman is here.”
“Dez?” I yell. “Addy, where are you?”
“Yep. Ooh, what’s this? She’s waving me over to sit with her? Look at me. I’ve arrived.”
I hear Dez’s voice over the phone. “Where’s Frenchie?”
“On the phone,” Addy says.
“Tell him to get over here before I retrieve my computer from the pool.”
“Papi,” Addy says. “Dez says—”
“Yes, ma’am!”