11.
Where Tyson Gets His Ass Handed to Him
ONCE, WHEN I was eleven, I sat on the bed in my room in the Green Monstrosity, watching my friend Dom as he tried on his graduation gown for the first time. It was a little small on him and stretched tightly across his shoulders, the gown coming up almost to his knees.
“You look ridiculous,” I finally said as he looked at himself in the mirror.
“It’s not the best fit,” he rumbled at me. “And it’s probably too late to get a new one.”
I snorted. “Uh, yeah. You’re graduating tomorrow. I told you to try it on before now.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll only be wearing it for a little while.”
“Are Patty and Bert going to be there?” I asked, hoping some miracle had occurred and his foster parents had decided to prove they were actually human.
“Don’t think so,” he said. He lifted the gown over his head, and there was a flicker of skin across his stomach as his shirt pulled up that I resolutely ignored. It was not something I cared to see, because this was Dom. This was my friend, but the skin was tan and looked muscled and I—
“It’s fine,” I said. “We’ll all be there.”
He looked at me with caution in his eyes. “Really?” he asked. I could hear him trying to keep the hope from his voice, but not succeeding in the slightest.
“Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t we?”
He shrugged and looked away. “I don’t know. I knew you’d go, but I didn’t know about everyone else.”
I laughed. “You’re family. Of course everyone’s going.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He smiled that half smile. “Cool.”
I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know why you couldn’t have flunked this year like I told you to. That way when I start high school next year, we’d have been going to the same school.” What I didn’t say was that I was terrified of him starting college in the fall, even if he was only going to be at Seafare Community College. I was sure he’d start there and make new friends and realize how weird it was to hang out with the Kid, who was only a kid. I knew I’d see less and less of him, until one day he wouldn’t show and I’d be left all by myself. I tried to tell myself it wouldn’t be so bad, because things were getting better and better every day, and maybe one day I wouldn’t have to go see Eddie anymore (even if part of the adoption process involved mandatory therapy), and I could be normal. I could be like everyone else, and these weird thoughts, these dark thoughts that crossed my mind every now and then that whispered things like they always leave and one day even Bear will leave you too would stop crossing my mind.
One day I wouldn’t need the bathtub anymore. One day there’d be no earthquakes and all would be well. I would be normal and the memory of my mother would be just that: a memory.
That was what I told myself. That was what I tried to make myself believe.
But this was Dom. This was my Dom. He could read me almost as well as Bear. Maybe even better. He saw right through my words to the things I didn’t say. He sat down next to me on the bed and patted my knee. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly.
I couldn’t look at him. “No one can know that.”
“Maybe. But I do.”
I wanted to believe him. And maybe part of me even did. But a bigger part, an unwelcome part (isn’t that always the way?), knew about the Julie McKennas of the world. It knew that people said things they didn’t mean. It knew they did things that hurt others. It (I) knew that people left. They said they wouldn’t. They said they couldn’t. But they did. They usually did.
I wanted to believe him. So very badly.
“Yeah,” I said. “Okay.”
But Dom was clever, and he knew the things unsaid. “Tyson. Look at me.”
I didn’t want to because my breathing was becoming slightly labored and I knew the bed was starting to shake. It felt like an ocean was near. And yet, somehow, I sat up. Slid next to him. Looked up at him as he slipped his arm over my shoulder and pulled me close.
“I promise,” he said. “Where you go, I go. Friends until we’re old and gray.”
“Beginning to end,” I murmured. “Day after day.”
“It’s inevitable,” he said.
And I wished I could believe him. I wished with all that I had. And when you’re eleven, you’re on the cusp between still believing wishing worked if you wanted something hard enough and understanding the world is teeth and sharp edges. I wished. I did. I promise you with all that I have that I did.
But I knew the teeth. The sharp edges. And they were bigger than wishing. I was only eleven, but I was the product of my upbringing too.
Maybe that’s why I was able to be the one to leave. Maybe I’d been looking for a reason and latched on to the first one that came, no matter how hard it was. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that it’s easier to leave someone before they leave you. Because eventually, everyone leaves.
It’s inevitable.
“Sure, Dom,” I said, and we left it at that.
I’M NOT surprised when we end up on that stretch of beach I swear only my family knows about. Clouds are coming in, and the water looks choppy, but there’s no rain. At least not yet.
Dominic turns off the car, and I hear the wind outside blowing through the sea grass, a sound that reminds me so much of my childhood that I have to blink the burn away. The only other sound is the ticking of the cooling engine.
I want to be the first to speak, but I don’t know what to say. How are you? seems trite. I’m sorry seems too little too late. Did you miss me? Too self-serving.
I say nothing.
He finally sighs and says, “You been back here yet?”
“No.” That’s a lie. The first day we rolled into town.
“The little cross Anna made is still there.”
“Oh?” I don’t know what else to say to that. After we spread Mrs. P’s ashes into the sea (only to have them blown back in our faces—Mrs. P’s idea of a joke, even after she was gone), Anna had gotten the idea to put up a cross in addition to the marker at the cemetery. The stone marker could be for her friends. The little cross was for her family.
“Yeah. Storms knock it over every now and then, but I make sure it goes back up. Got vandalized once, but Creed repainted it.”
“Did you find out who did it?”
“No. Probably just some kids.”
“Oh.” If I’d come up on them desecrating her cross, I would not have been responsible for my actions.
“Tyson.”
“What?” I stare resolutely out the window.
“I came to see you.”
“I know.”
“Bear wouldn’t let me in.”
“I know that too.”
“Said you didn’t want to see me.”
“I didn’t.”
“You stayed away.”
That old familiar anger rises, and I catch his eye in the rearview mirror. “What’s your point?”
He shrugged. “Merely stating fact.”
“How’s your wife, Dom? How’s Stacey?” My voice is mocking and my words are meant to hurt, but as soon as they leave my mouth, I want to take them back. Desperately. My heart thuds in my ears. This is not who I am. I’m over this. I am done with this.
Obviously, it laughs.
“That the best you’ve got?” he asks me. “That it? Go for it. I can take it. If it makes you feel better, then you say whatever you want.”
“Fuck you, Dominic.” I slam my hand against the metal grille separating the front and the backseat. It stings, but I ignore it.
“Oh, that hurts,” he says with a short laugh. “Look at you! Big man. Learn that in college?”
“Sure,” I say. “Right after I got your wedding invitation. You know, the one you didn’t tell me about? The one you tried to keep from me? Yeah, that’s the only reason you called me that day, isn’t it? You found out it’d been mailed, and you tried to stop me from finding out.”
“I came for you,” he says again.
“Why?”
“Because you’re—” He stops. Shakes his head. “You’re you,” he says simply.
“Great. That clears up a whole hell of a lot. Thank you, Dominic. Thank you for that. Thank you for this lovely day. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go home now.”
“No. Not until I’ve had my say.”
It starts to rain. Just a light mist, really. Enough to cause the windows to streak with water. But for some reason, it compounds upon everything happening in this car that has suddenly turned stifling. I can feel my throat constricting and the car starts to shake. That old familiar wave rises over me and I think, Hello, there. Hello, old friend. I haven’t seen you in, what? A few days?
“Then talk,” I manage to say. I try to roll down the window to get some air, but this is a cop car. There’s no button. No handle. I’m trapped in here.
You can do this, I tell myself. You know how to do this.
You can, Bear says. This is easy.
It’s easy, Eddie Egan, my old crazy therapist, whispers. It’s just a matter of breathing. You hold it in. You let it out. You hold it in. You let it out. It’s that easy because you are bigger than it is. You are stronger than it is.
Yes, it mocks, doing its best therapist voice. Because if it’s so easy, you would have thought of doing it in the first place. Just breathe, Kid! Just fucking breathe!
I ignore it and focus like I’ve been taught. I don’t want to show weakness in front of Dominic. Don’t want him to see how easy it is to rattle me, see how quickly I can break. I breathe. All I want to do is breathe.
“You cut me out, Tyson,” he says. “You cut me out like I was nothing, like I was nobody in your life. You were my best friend and you treated me like I was nothing. I expected that from a lot of people in my life. I have been treated like that by a lot of people in my life. But not you. Never you. You didn’t give me a chance to explain. You didn’t give me the benefit of the doubt. You made the decision you made because you felt it was right for you. Because you were pissed off, you were angry. I know you’re many things, Tyson, but the one thing I never expected you to be was a selfish asshole.”
“Keep talking,” I tell him. “Get it out so this can be done.” I don’t know why I ever thought I could get this back. Me and him. Somehow. I’ve made too many mistakes. I’ve fucked up too many times, and nothing can be salvaged here. I’m embarrassed and I want to go home so I can hide and lick my wounds. It’s not helping that I feel the sudden urge to bash his head in, to make him bleed.
His gaze flicks up to mine, and I can see the anger that’s mirrored in my own. “You’re damn right I’m going to keep talking. You think it’s just up to you? You think you get to make all the decisions here? You’re wrong, Tyson. You couldn’t be more wrong.
“Do you know what it’s felt like having to get updates on you secondhand? Having to hear from Bear and Otter or Creed and Anna how you’re doing? Having my phone calls ignored? I flew to fucking New Hampshire. I stood outside your door, and your brother treated me like I was some goddamn stranger, all because you were pissed off. Tell me, Kid, where the fuck is the fairness in that?”
I can’t breathe. His voice has gotten louder till he’s snarling. His words have gotten angrier. There are accusations and hurt and sorrow and a million other things crossing his face, but I can’t breathe because he called me Kid. Not once has he done that before. Not ever. I’ve always been Tyson to him. Or Ty. But never Kid.
Get it under control, it snaps at me. You want him to see how weak you are? How much of a kid you are? Grow the fuck up. It’s all in your head. You know this is all in your head. It’s not real.
I hate it, but it’s right. I don’t want him to see me like this. I take in a breath. Hold it. Let it out. The car is shaking and my skin feels like it’s buzzing, but I force that air in. I force it out. It will not win. This will not overtake me. Not here. Not now.
“You’re right,” I say through gritted teeth. “Is that it? Can I go home now?”
He watches me in the mirror. I keep my face schooled. I keep my breathing shallow. My throat whistles once, but it’s quiet, and the rain has started falling harder, ticking along the roof. The clouds have come in faster than I thought they would.
“Why?” Dominic asks. “Just… why?”
Why? Why? Because I was in love with you. I thought one day you’d turn and see me the same way I saw you. You’d look at me and smile, and then there’d be this fire in your eyes. And it would be for me. All of it would be for me. You’d tell me that you never wanted me to leave again, and you were sorry you let me go in the first place. That you never meant for it to happen. You’d promise it would never happen again. You were my first love and as much as I hate to admit it, you’ve been my only. I love Corey and Kori, but nothing like I loved you. I might have been fifteen. I might have been a fool. But I believed. Somehow, some way, I believed. And you broke me, Dominic. You broke me. As much as I should have seen it coming, as much as I should have known it was there, you still broke me because I realized that what I wanted was never meant to be.
But that’s not me. I don’t say those things anymore. I don’t put myself out there because it won’t matter. I won’t be the one standing in the rain on the beach pouring my heart out. I’m not fifteen anymore. I’m not a Kid anymore. I know how things work now.
So instead, I say, “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”
He starts the car without another word, backs away from the beach, and heads toward town.
HE STOPS the cruiser in front of the Green Monstrosity. The rain has stopped and I’ve gotten my breathing under control. The panic attack I felt coming in the car has been pushed away for now. It might come later, or it might be gone for good. I don’t know. That’s how these things work. I need to go upstairs and go to bed or I’m going to have a killer headache tomorrow. But Bear is probably waiting for me still. Hopefully, Otter’s been able to get him calmed down some. I don’t need him screeching at me as soon as I walk in the door.
Dominic doesn’t make any move to let me out of the car. He just sits there and looks at the Green Monstrosity. It’s starting to get dark out. I wonder randomly what the beach hippies are doing right this second. Cornflower might be doing as he promised and giving Beach Vagrant a whole clan of hippie babies. I guess the world could always use more rock throwers.
“You said I belonged to you,” I say without thinking. My mouth tends to do that.
He sighs. “Things change.”
“Oh.”
Silence. Then, “You and Corey, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Seems like a nice guy.”
“The best.”
The briefest of hesitations. “You love him?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“But not like that.”
“Oh?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
He’s lying, but I let it go. God knows I’ve done enough to him today.
He opens his door. Moves back. Opens mine. I think this might just be the very last time I see him, and I wonder if I’m going to allow it. I wonder if I’m going to let this be it. Everything we’ve had can’t just come down to this one last moment. Everything he’s done for me. Everything he’s meant to me. All it will take is me opening my mouth and saying I’m sorry and saying I was hurt because you chose someone other than me, and it would all be done. It would all be over. We could pick up the pieces and put them back together. They might not fit the way they used to, but we could mold them into new shapes, could make this about who we are now, and not who we used to be.
I get out of the back of the car. He doesn’t back away. I stand in front of him and my leg brushes his. I look up into his eyes, and I truly do believe that everything stops around us and this could be it. This could be the moment that people don’t expect, that people don’t see coming. He’s obviously waiting for something and brushes his hand against mine, the lightest of touches. He circles my wrists with his fingers, just like the cuffs did, except it’s a gentle touch. Soft. Sweet.
“Dom,” I say. “This… I’m—”
“Daddy!” a young voice says.
We both turn.
The door to the Green Monstrosity is open. Bear stands in the doorway, the house lit up behind him. I think I see Kori look out the window briefly from the top floor.
But it’s the little boy running toward us who captures my attention. The little boy with dark hair. The little boy whose eyes are wide, who has a small smile on his face. The little boy who is a spitting image of the man standing next to me.
Dominic goes to one knee and opens his arms. The boy crashes into him and babbles quietly, talking about a lion and a dog and Bear said this and Otter (pronounced “Ottah”) said that, and there was the sky and it rained and did Daddy see that? Didn’t Daddy see all of that? There’s a queer cadence to his voice, an almost flat and monotonous tone. For a moment, I think it might be because he’s deaf, but then Dominic says something back to him, and I can tell the boy hears him. He says it again. Daddy.
Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.
“Who is this?” I hear myself ask.
Dominic turns to look at me and he pales, as if he just remembered he’d forgotten to tell me something important.
“This is Ben,” he says, picking the kid off the ground and up into his arms. “Ben, this is Tyson. He’s my… friend. And he’s Bear’s brother.”
Ben turns to look at me with eyes so much like his father that I can barely look at them. He curls his face into Dominic’s neck, trying to hide.
“Hi, Ben,” I say. I look back at Dominic and ask a question I already know the answer to. “Your son?”
Dominic nods.
“How old?”
“Just turned three a couple months ago.”
“You have a kid,” I say stupidly.
“Yeah.”
Ben leans up, grabs Dominic’s head, and pulls it down, whispering in his ear. His gaze darts to me as he speaks to his… father.
Dominic sighs and shakes his head. “Probably not.”
Ben looks disappointed.
“What?” I ask. I’m still not sure if any of this is real. This could quite possibly be a dream.
Dominic shrugged. “Ben wanted to know if you were coming over to his house.”
“No one told me.” That’s the part catching up with me the most now. There was a human being in this world directly connected to my family that I did not know existed. It’s the worst possible thing I could focus on, but I can’t help it. Everyone knew but me.
“I told them not to,” he says. “Don’t you get angry with them.”
He knows me too well. “Why?”
“Why?” he asks. Then he spits my own words back at me. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”
I don’t know what to say.
“I have to get Ben home.” He turns back toward the house. “He eat?” he calls up to Bear. My brother nods, his arms across his chest. “You got the car seat?”
Bear reaches down by the door and picks it up. He walks down the steps and through the gate of the yard. Ben reaches for Bear, and Bear laughs, handing off the car seat to Dominic, trading it for the kid.
“Everything go okay with Anna?” Dominic asks as he fastens the car seat in the back of the cruiser.
Bear nodded. “Everything went fine. He’s been coloring with JJ inside.” He grins at Ben as Ben puts his hands in Bear’s hair. He babbles at him, and it hits me that I used to do that. Bear used to hold me just like that, and I’d tell him everything that ever came into my mind. I’d pull on his hair, and he’d listen and I’d talk. And talk. And talk.
They kept this from me. All of them. Even him.
“That’s Tyson,” Ben says to Bear.
“Oh?” Bear asks. He glances over at me, trying to see what he can see.
“I didn’t tell him,” Dominic says quietly. “There wasn’t time.”
Bear nods tightly. “We have some things to talk about, then, I guess.”
Dominic takes Ben from Bear and puts him in the car seat. He murmurs something to his son, and I hear Ben grunt. I almost open my mouth to inform everyone that he’s putting his son in the back of a cop car, but that doesn’t seem to be the best thing to talk about right now.
Bear looks at me, a question in his eyes. You okay?
I look away.
Dominic closes the rear door. “Thanks, Bear,” he says.
He stops before he gets into the car. He glances back at me. There’s no real discernible expression on his face. “It was good to see you again. Stay out of trouble this summer.” Like he’s talking to a child. An acquaintance. He says nothing else as he climbs inside the cruiser pulls away. Soon it disappears from sight.
“You didn’t tell me,” I say to Bear. This no longer feels like a dream.
“I did what I thought was best,” Bear says plaintively. “What I thought was right. I will do whatever I can to keep you safe. To keep you from hurting.”
“No more,” I say without looking at him. “You don’t decide for me anymore.”
I leave Bear out on the sidewalk.
LATER THAT night, I’m wide awake and staring at the ceiling, filled with all thoughts of him. Kori lies curled up against me, breathing deeply. I try to push Dominic away, but he won’t leave.
And it hits me. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed it at the time.
His hands. Cuffing me. Opening the door. Hands on the steering wheel. Touching my wrist. Picking up his son.
There was no wedding ring.