14.
Where Tyson Asks Some Questions
THE HOUSE is neat inside, if a little sparse. The colors are dark and muted, almost somber. It’s small, this house, but big enough for a family just starting out. I tell myself I’m not looking for any signs of a woman’s presence (specifically Stacey’s), but I obviously am, even though in the end, it’s really none of my business what he does. It hasn’t been my business for a long time. That still doesn’t stop me from looking, though. There’s not much to say one way or another.
Ben grabs me by the hand and pulls me around the house, showing me every little thing that belongs to him. Here is his room. Here are his toys. Here is where he goes to bed at seven thirty every night, and here is where he brushes his teeth before he goes to bed. His daddy helps him but he can do it himself because he is old enough now. Do I see all the posters on the walls? I do. Those, he says, are his too. All the animal posters. Lions walking against a setting sun. Giraffes. Ducks. Beavers. Rhinos and deer. Dozens of them. I glance back at Dominic, who trails behind us only steps away. He stares at his son with a look akin to wonder on his face, as if he’s never heard him speak this much before. Even I’m a little awed by Ben, who speaks as if he’s far older than he actually is. There’s a queerly flat tone to his voice, but his vocabulary is through the roof as he shows me his favorite book, his favorite ball, his favorite shoes. Each is in its appointed place, and I watch as Ben frowns when he sees a couple of Legos lying near a toy chest against the wall. He lets go of my hand and picks them up off the floor. He opens a small container to the side of the chest and drops them inside. The line that creased his forehead smoothes out, and he grabs my hand and shows me the little table where he colors, and do I see the picture he drew? Do I see it? Do I want him to draw one for me, because he wants to. He needs to know my favorite animal first and then he can draw it for me and do a good job, too, but it’s hard for him sometimes. He’ll do it if I want.
“Sure,” I say. “That’d be great.”
He lets go of my hand and sits in his chair at the table. “What’s your favorite animal?”
“A bear,” I say. “Or maybe an otter.”
Ben frowns again, and that line forms in the middle of his forehead. His eye twitches as he stares at me. For a moment, it’s like he has forgotten who I am.
“You have to pick one,” Dominic says from behind me. “You can’t give him a choice.”
“A bear,” I say.
Ben turns and grabs a crayon.
Oh, Ben. Oh, Dom. This isn’t fair. This shouldn’t have happened to either of you. I’m sorry. I’m so—
“Autism,” Dominic says before I can ask. He says it in a quiet voice, one with an air of acceptance and challenge, as if he expects me to say something to the contrary. “High-functioning. Diagnosed a few months ago. Explained a lot when we finally heard what it was.”
I wonder who “we” is, but don’t ask. Not yet. “I thought as much,” I say.
“Oh?”
“They thought I had it too. When I was three or four.”
“You never told me that.” I can hear the surprise in his voice.
I shrug, but still don’t look at him. “Didn’t seem important.”
“Julie?” he asks.
“She thought something was wrong with me,” I say, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “I talked about strange stuff. I could list off dozens of constellations.” I remember something Dominic said before I knew who Ben was. “I had to have my routines.”
“It wasn’t, though?”
“No. There was no real explanation for my weirdness.”
“Ben’s not weird,” Dominic says coolly.
I turn to look at him and see the anger on his face. I instantly feel like shit. “That’s not what I meant. I was just saying that about me.”
He watches me for a moment before he nods and looks away. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s been tough.”
“He has his routines, too, huh?”
“Yeah. Everything has a specific place. Everything has a specific time. Everything has to be done in a specific way.”
I look back down at Ben. The bear he’s drawing is better than anything I could hope to draw, down to the tiniest details: the fur, the claws on its feet that are the same color as the nose.
“Ursidae,” I hear Ben mutter.
I look back up at Dom, a question in my eyes.
“Scientific name for bears,” he says. “You had constellations, he has his animals. He can name quite a few. He learned Bear first, though. Because of your brother. And Otter.”
“Mustelidae,” Ben mutters.
“I didn’t know,” I say to Dominic. It almost sounds like an apology. I don’t know what else to say.
“About?”
“This. Ben. Everything.”
“I know. I made sure.”
“Why?”
“You left.”
“I was always going to leave.” Such a bullshit response.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.”
“Would it have mattered?” he asks. He crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his head at me, giving me a look that I’ve known forever. That look says he’s calling me out.
“What?” I ask, trying to get more time to get my thoughts straight.
He sees right through me. He always has. “If you’d known. About Ben. Everything.” It almost sounds like he’s mocking me.
I want to say, Of course. Of course it would have. Had I known, I would have come running, and all the bullshit of the past four years wouldn’t have happened. That’s how much you meant to me, Dom. I would have gotten over my own self and come running, because that’s what friends do. And regardless of what else we were or what I wished I could be, we were friends above all else, and I would have come running just for you. You helped me breathe and I would have helped you see that it would all be okay.
But I can’t say that. I can’t say that because it would be a lie. If I’d known that a kid was involved, that Dominic had a son who was almost as old as the length of time I’d been gone, that would have been the bit that broke it all away. I would have seen it as a betrayal, even more so than a wedding invitation in the mail. It probably would have broken me to pieces, because I would have made it about me. Had I known then what I know now, I probably wouldn’t even be standing in this room. In this house. In this town. Seafare and Dominic would have been nothing but a memory I would remember with faint anger.
Yes, it would have mattered, I want to say.
“I don’t know,” I say instead. “I don’t think so.”
He nods like he got the answer he expected. It doesn’t stop disappointment from coursing across his face. I want to take it back and lie. I want to lie and tell him everything would have mattered.
“What do you want, Ty?”
Now that’s a fucking loaded question. “I—”
Ben tugs on my fingers, and I think of Bear and me when I was just a little guy. I look down at him and smile.
“Ursidae,” he says. “Bear.”
And it is. So very well done. I tell him as much.
“I know Bear,” he says. “You know Bear?”
“He’s my brother,” I tell him.
“He and Otter. Mustelidae.”
“Ursidae and Mustelidae,” I agree.
He looks up at me as if studying me. His lips quirk into a small smile and he sits back down at his desk, picking up another crayon.
“He likes you,” Dominic says.
“I guess.” I don’t know why. I haven’t done anything aside from questioning why he exists at all.
Dom shakes his head. “You don’t understand, Ty. It’s routine. Everything comes down to routine. Autism is about routine. Day in. Day out. You should have messed with that. He should be upset. He should be angry. He shouldn’t be talking.”
I’m confused. “He’s not, though. Upset, that is. And he’s talking just fine.”
“I know he is. More than I’ve heard in a while. He doesn’t do that with most people. Just with me. Sometimes with his mother.”
His mother? Where is she, Dom?
“Kids like me, I guess,” I say instead. I don’t really know how true that is. I don’t have much experience with kids.
Dominic laughs. God, that sound. “You still don’t get it. You’re a stranger to him, and yet he’s talking to you like you’ve been around his whole life. That doesn’t happen.”
“Oh.” I try not to read too much into that, because for all I know, it could really be nothing, even if Dom seems to think otherwise. “You’re… welcome?” Great, now I sound like a complete idiot. That’s just super.
Dom watches me. It makes me nervous. He’s got the whole cop-stare thing going on, and I’m pretty sure he can intuitively know everything bad I’ve done in the past four years without me having to say a goddamn word. My mouth desperately wants to fall open and babble to fill the silence, but somehow I’m able to keep it shut and stare right back at him, the only sound in the room Ben muttering to himself and scratching the crayon over the sheet of paper.
I break first. Of course I do. “What?” I ask nervously.
He shakes his head. Looks away. Whatever was there is gone. “What are you doing here, Tyson?”
And that’s the real question, isn’t it? What am I doing here? What do I want to happen? And whatever I want, does Dom want the same thing? He hasn’t kicked me out, not yet, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. He could very easily turn this around and tell me to leave, that it doesn’t matter that his son talks to me like he’s known me all his life. That Dom has known me practically my whole life. That none of any of that matters. That I should go and disappear back where I came from and never bother him again, because can’t I see he has his own life now? Can’t I see just how full it is? He has a son with a disability, and here I am, standing in front of him, pathetic words ready to fall from my lips. Can’t we be friends again? Can’t we forget the past four years ever happened? I need you. I don’t want to need you, but I think I do. I want to know everything.
And it’s all about me. Again. What I want. What I need. I can’t breathe on my own, so here I am, ready to ask Dominic to help me do it. How egocentric am I? How positively selfish of a person am I? I came here with the foolish idea that I could get what I wanted from this and, really, nothing more.
“Nothing,” I mutter. “I should probably go.” My face feels like it’s burning, and it takes everything I have to keep from running from this house, this neighborhood, this town, this world. Anywhere at all that he could no longer see me like this, this selfish little boy. This self-centered Kid.
He sighs and looks like he might speak. Instead, he shakes his head again and steps out of the doorway. Now’s my chance. Now I can run and forget that my throat is constricting or that it’s getting harder to breathe. I’ll find a bathtub (somewhere, anywhere) and wait for this earthquake to pass, because they always do. Some are worse than others, and some seem to stay for longer than they should, but they always pass, and I will beat this one like I will beat every one that comes after. I don’t need him to breathe. I can do it on my own. He shouldn’t have to carry me along with everything else. I’ll figure it out. Somehow. Some way.
And so I move to leave. I can’t even find the words to say good-bye to Ben, who is oblivious to the weird static charge in the room. Or maybe he’s not and doesn’t know how to respond. Or just doesn’t care. The last seems more likely.
Get out. Get out. Get out.
So many things to say. Of course, I say none of them. How cliché this is. How so like my brother am I or, rather, how he used to be. He said nothing and almost lost everything. It appears I will do the same.
I can’t look at him as I walk toward him. I can’t think of a single thing to say as I walk by him. For a moment, my arm brushes his, and it’s like every single nerve in my skin is firing off at once and shrieking THIS IS IT! THIS IS IT!
He reaches out and grabs my arm. His fingers bite into my skin. There is so much pressure I’m sure the bones will shatter into tiny pieces. I relish it because it cuts right through the earthquake, and it’s like he knows. It’s like he knows every little thing I’m thinking at the moment, even if I don’t quite understand it myself.
The pressure increases.
He says one word and one word only:
“Don’t.”
Don’t what? Don’t come back? Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out? Don’t ever let me see you around here again?
Don’t leave.
He tightens his hand, and I have to stifle the groan that wants to rise. It hurts, but the earthquake is almost gone. As my mind clears, I can hear how heavily he is breathing, almost like he’s panting.
“Dom—”
“Don’t.”
So I don’t. It’s that simple.
Minutes go by. I hear him mutter, “You run. You always try to run.”
Eventually, he loosens his grip. His breath evens out. He drops his hand, and we stand side by side, our arms brushing together, and I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know if I should know.
Ben says he’s hungry without looking up from his crayons. He asks if I’m going to eat with them, and he wants a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Ursidae,” he says. “Mustelidae.”
Bear. Otter.
This is not their story.
This is my own.
I SIT in the kitchen, seated at the table next to Ben. He’s staring down at the sandwich in front of him. He touches it once. Then again. Lifts the bread to see the peanut butter. Sets it back down. Stares at it some more.
“He’ll eat it,” Dom says, sitting across from us. “Eventually. He just has to decide that he wants to eat it.”
“He likes it?”
“Most of the time. Kids with autism can be very picky about what they eat. A lot of it has to do with texture and smells. It’s back to the routine. He wasn’t so bad when he was younger, but as Spectrum kids get older, they become more resistant to new foods. We’ve been on a peanut butter kick for weeks now. It’s all he’ll eat for lunch now.”
Ben looks up at me, that flat look on his face. I pick up my own sandwich and bite into it, and he watches me as I chew. Some people might find the look to be disconcerting, but I know he’s just gauging my reaction, seeing if I’ll put the food down in disgust. I don’t, and he picks up his own sandwich and bites into it. It sits in his mouth for a moment before he starts to chew.
“You don’t like peanut butter,” I say to Dom, suddenly remembering.
He shrugs. “It’s easier to eat what he eats. Everything will look the same and smell the same.”
“That’s….” I don’t know what that is.
A small smile. “I really hate peanut butter,” he says.
My phone beeps. “Sorry,” I say as I pull it from my pocket. Text message. From Corey.
Need me to come save you or are you balls-deep? Goddammit. My face burns.
Go away, I type back.
The response is immediate. Balls-deep, huh? That sounds hot.
“Everything okay?” Dom asks.
“Just Corey,” I mumble as I turn my phone off. Of course he would think that sounds hot, because it does sound hot, and now I’m thinking dirty things while eating lunch with Dominic and his three-year-old son who is watching every single bite I take. I’m an awful, awful person.
“Your ex, huh?” Dom says, as if discussing the weather.
“Yeah.”
“Date long?”
“A while.”
“How long’s a while?”
“Months.”
“He good to you?”
I’m pretty sure I’m being interrogated. Can a person be both the good cop and the bad cop? If so, he’s doing it perfectly. “He’s fine.”
“Why’d it end?”
“It just did. We’re better friends than anything else. He’s my best friend.” Well, that sucks to say out loud—telling your former best friend about your new best friend, who also happens to be your ex-boyfriend. I swear, these situations I find myself in sometimes are not my fault. They just happen to me.
Dominic, of course, doesn’t even flinch and continues to do that “vaguely interested, you’re guilty of something” cop thing. He must be very good at his job because I can’t quite seem to shut the hell up. Either that, or I just talk way too much. I don’t think I’d make a very good master criminal. I’d give everything up far too easily. In prison, I’d probably become a snitch and would eventually meet my end by being garroted in the prison showers after I’d met with FBI agents and given up the secrets of my cell mate, Pauley “The Destroyer” Galucci.
“I don’t want to die in the prison showers,” I say fretfully.
“Uh. What?” He arches an eyebrow.
“Pauley Galucci would get me.”
“I don’t think that’s a real person.”
I bury my face in my hands. “I’d be a snitch.”
“Snitches do get shivved,” he agrees, taking another bite of his sandwich. How he can stand to eat something he hates, I’ll never know. He’s got this annoying fucking smirk on his face, like he knows something I don’t. I want to punch him in the mouth.
“Garroted,” I correct him.
“That too. I’m not interrogating you, Tyson.”
Oh shit. I should have remembered he was one of the only people who could reverse-follow my line of thinking. Of course he knew exactly what I was talking about without having to have an explanation. No wonder he’s a cop. He’s, like, psychic or something.
“I didn’t think you were,” I say. I am a big fat liar.
He knows this, but he lets it go. Okay, we’re back to Good Cop. Fun. “Good to know.”
“Uh. Sure.”
And he immediately switches into Bad Cop. “So, how have the past four years of your life been?” Or maybe it’s Make You Feel Guilty Cop. It’s said with such an affable tone that I almost miss the words. “Seems I haven’t heard from you in some time.”
Asshole. “Oh, just fine,” I say. Two can play Bad Cop. “Thanks for the invite to your wedding. Sorry I couldn’t attend. It seemed rather sudden, and I already had plans.” Okay, maybe I’m Jerk Cop.
He grins, and it’s a feral thing. “That’s okay. You probably wouldn’t have had much fun. Lots of grownup stuff happening.”
“Sounds boring, though I heard the service itself was quite lovely. You know, for a wedding that came on such short notice.”
“It was nice,” he says. “Lots of flowers. You would have liked them.”
“I’m allergic,” I say sweetly, stepping onto thin ice as if it’s solid ground. “Probably good I didn’t make it. I would have sneezed through the whole thing.”
“Probably good,” he echoes. “Wouldn’t have done to have distractions. Vows and all that. You know about vows, Tyson? They’re usually inevitable, after all. Still, it was a lovely day, even in your absence.”
The ice doesn’t break, so I decide to take a jackhammer to it. I figure, why not? You only live once. “Shotgun weddings usually are. Hopefully Stacey found a suitable dress. I assume she was what… three, four months along at the time?” I smile at him. It’s a nasty thing.
His eyes flicker dangerously. Bad Cop is Pissed Cop. “Something like that.”
“And you, the sanctimonious man that you are, decided to do the right thing.” Of course he did. He’s Dominic, after all.
“Careful, Tyson,” he warns. “You’re speaking about my son.”
Ben pays little interest to the goings-on around him. “You’re right,” I say softly. “I am speaking about your son. Who you had with Stacey. It was, after all, inevitable.”
“Kind of like your leaving,” he says. “Who knew you’d end up being a runner? Not after what happened with Bear and Otter.”
“We’re not Bear and Otter.”
“Clearly.”
“You’re not even….”
He watched you like you were the only thing that existed in the world. For him, I’m pretty sure you were. For at least those moments.
“What?”
“Never mind,” I say instead. The coward’s way out.
The doorbell rings. “Shit,” he says, glancing down at his watch. “She’s early.”
“Who?” I ask, like it’s my business to know.
“Stay here with Ben,” he says without looking at me. He stands and disappears toward the front door. I hear it open, followed by low voices. Eavesdropping is bad, I decide, but only after I realize I can’t hear anything.
“This has been a weird day,” I mutter.
“You gonna stay here with my dad?” Ben asks me. He’s got peanut butter on his face. How he managed to get it on his forehead, I’ll never know.
“I have my own house,” I say. I get up and wet a paper towel in the sink.
“With Bear?”
“With Bear.”
“And Anna? I know Anna.”
“You do, huh?”
“She picks me up from school sometimes.” He watches every step I take toward him.
“You’re wearing your food,” I tell him.
He cocks his head at me.
“Peanut butter,” I say. “On your face.”
He doesn’t say anything. Children are so weird.
“I’m going to clean you, okay?”
He doesn’t react as I gently grip his chin and dab the peanut butter away. His gaze never leaves me, and his eyes are blue, the same shade as his father’s. In fact, this close, there would be no mistaking who he belonged to. I wonder briefly if he’ll be just as big. I don’t know much about autism, but it’s not a death sentence. He might grow out of a lot of it. And even if he doesn’t, from what I’ve seen, he’s remarkable. Kids like him usually are, deserving far more credit then they’re given. He’ll probably prove himself to be more resilient than I ever was.
I half expect him to pull away while I clean his face. “Ursidae and Mustelidae,” he says to me.
“You sure know a lot about animals,” I tell him.
“I like them.”
“Me too.”
“There’s bugs,” he says. “Outside.”
“That’s how I met your daddy. Because of bugs.”
He nods as if that makes perfect sense.
His face is clean and I let him go. “All finished.”
“Told you,” I hear from the entrance to the kitchen. I jump, feeling guilty, but over what, I don’t know. I turn and Dominic is there, leaning against the doorway, arms across his chest. Standing next to him is Ben’s mother.
Stacey.
She looks at me with something akin to awe. I look at her as one would look at another if unsure they’re friend or foe. She was always so nice. So upbeat. So friendly.
And for the longest time, I would not have been sad had she been eaten by a walrus. Awful, that. Of course, had she defended herself and killed said walrus, I would have probably labeled her an animal-killer and would have expressed my moral outrage by bashing her character on the PETA message boards.
Wow. Apparently, she brings up very conflicting feelings for me. She’s nice, but she’s also the definition of pure evil. Sort of.
“Hi, Mom,” Ben says. He scoots himself down from his chair and walks around the table. He stops in front of her and she leans down, smacking a wet kiss on his lips. He smiles up at her as he presses his shoulder into her leg. She looks as beautiful as always, and standing together, they seem to make the perfect family. I wonder just how far off base we were, if they’re still married. I’ve probably somehow found myself on Dominic’s only day off in a month and they’re all planning on doing something as a family, and here I bust right in, talking about shotgun weddings and playing Bitchy Cop.
My life is a travesty of epic proportions. This is probably going to get very awkward very quickly.
“It’s amazing,” Stacey says. Her voice sounds a little thick, as if she’s getting ready to cry. “You were right, big guy. That’s something else.”
Oh boy. Here it goes. The secret language of married couples who are madly in love and talk right in front of me about things I don’t understand. Lovely. I’m so glad I came here and got to have this rubbed in my face. Knowing my luck, she’s probably pregnant again. If I squint hard enough, it looks like she’s gaining weight in her face, so she sort of has jowls (okay, not really, but it’s making me feel better, at least a little bit). Where the hell is a walrus when you need one? Come to think of it, can a person even buy a walrus? I don’t know if I could do that. PETA would probably end up banning me for life, and even though the organization is pretty much off its meds now, I still want to be in good standing with it so that when I take control of it one day, there won’t be too much of a fight.
God, I am so weird.
Stacey comes over to me, and before I can do anything to stop her, she wraps me in a hug and squeezes me tightly. For a moment, my arms hang at my sides, but even I’m not that rude, so I reach up and pat her back a couple of times. I didn’t know we were to the hugging phase of our relationship yet. I almost feel bad for wishing for a walrus.
Almost.
“It’s so good to see you again,” she says in my ear. “It’s been a while.”
“It’s been four years,” Dominic says from behind her, as if no one in the room was aware how long it’d been. Maybe the walrus can get him too. I wouldn’t feel so bad about that one.
“Too long,” she says as she steps back. She rubs her hands down my arms until she grabs my own, then presses her fingers against mine. There’s a scrape of metal from her ring finger, and I think, Stupid, stupid, stupid. You didn’t see his ring because he was in uniform. He probably doesn’t wear it to work. Of course they’re still married. “How you been, Kid?” she asks me.
Kid. That’s what I am here. “Good,” I say, forcing a smile onto my face. “Things have been… good.”
“School going okay?”
Well, no. It’s really not, but that’s not something I feel like sharing at the moment. Or ever. “Sure is,” I say, amazed at the cheerfulness in my voice. I sound like I’m high on life. Or meth. “Everything is superb.” I wonder if they know I’m lying, if Bear has said anything to them, the traitorous bastard. They probably go on couples’ dates together when Bear and Otter are here, and they talk about grownup things like stock portfolios, the best pinot noir, and the trials and tribulations of raising children (“Oh, you don’t even know!” Bear would say, obviously shit-faced on wine. “The Kid’s a royal fuckup in school now. I don’t even think they’re going to let him stay, and oh my God, will someone just give me a freaking baby already?”).
“That’s good to hear,” Stacey says, sounding genuine. Of course, she could be the most incredible actress in the history of the world and behind those warm and kind eyes is stirring a hatred like no other, and the moment Dom turns away, she’s going to reach up and snap my neck. “That’ll teach you to come back here,” she’ll hiss as I fade into the black. “Should have stayed out of my house, you little bitch.”
Instead, she says, “I know Dominic’s missed you, so it’s good you finally turned up. It’s been… difficult for him.”
“It has not,” Dom says. “I’ve been just fine, thank you very much.”
She rolls her eyes, and against every single part of my shredded will, the most minuscule part of me sort of likes her. Granted, her soul is probably as black as the darkest night, and I’d still like to see her banished to the ends of the earth for all eternity, but anyone who can think Dom spouts bullshit can’t be all that bad, right? Keep your friends close, keep your walrus bait closer, I think the saying goes.
“I’m only here for a little bit,” I say. “Just for the summer.”
She looks slightly disappointed, though I really can’t imagine why. She flashes me another smile as she drops my hands and takes a step back. I use this moment to covertly (well, as covertly as one can be when standing two feet away from a mortal enemy) glance down and see she is wearing a wedding ring. Dom isn’t. Maybe his fingers are too big. I mean, his hand is the size of a baby, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the ring didn’t fit. For some reason, baby-sized hands is funny to me, and I snort. It sounds just awful.
“Everything okay?” she asks me, eyebrow quirked.
“Uh, yeah. Just thought of… something… stupid.” I’m so glad I sound coherent. I don’t quite know how this day could get any more awkward.
“What’s that?”
“Baby hands.” Shut up, shut up! “Never mind. Long story. So, you! You look wonderful and amazing and I’m so glad to see you’re alive!” Well, that didn’t sound ominous at all. “Not that you wouldn’t be alive or anything, I guess. But you never know. I didn’t know about Ben, here, until a few days ago, so anything could have happened while I was gone.” That sounds much better. And she’s still standing way too close to me.
Stacey chuckles. “You sound just like your brother.”
Oh, ha-ha, you wicked witch! “So I hear,” I say brightly. “Haven’t yet figured out if that’s good or bad yet.” Bad. Definitely bad. I really need to work on that.
“Sit!” she says, motioning me toward the table. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch. We can chat for a bit.”
I’d rather have bamboo shunts shoved under my fingernails, but I don’t think that’s a polite thing to say, so I don’t. I don’t want the sandwich anymore. It’s filled with peanut butter and lies. Okay, so there really haven’t been any lies told yet (at least they haven’t lied yet—I’ve lied out my ass at least six times already), but that doesn’t matter. I don’t want to choke down the peanut butter that they probably bickered lovingly over in the grocery store, because she wanted chunky and he didn’t give a shit, and aren’t they so goddamn adorable?
She moves around me, and Ben follows her and climbs up into his booster seat next to her. Dominic still stands at the door, blocking the way out. If I sucker punch him in the stomach, I might create enough of a surprise to be able to slip by him. Rather do that than sit here in this happy home with the three of them and bask in their familial glory.
“Sit, Ty,” she says. “I want to hear all about New Hampshire! I hear it’s beautiful there.”
One punch to the stomach, maybe a knee to the balls. That’s all it’ll take. Just as I’m about to launch myself at a man at least three times my size, he puts that cop gaze back on me and flicks his head toward the table just once. I know what you’re trying to do, that gaze says. Sit your ass back down.
I stare back at him. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
He smirks at me. And the littler they are, the more high-pitched and whiny like a mosquito they sound.
I glare at him. I will murder you and bathe in your blood.
Yikes. I sound way too bitter and jaded. I really need to take a step back. Stacey’s being perfectly nice and… wait a minute. Just wait a goddamn minute. That’s probably what she wants me to think. This is obviously part of some diabolical game of hers, and I’m playing right into her hands! Crafty, crafty lady, making me sort of like her just a little bit and making me feel all safe and comfortable, and then wham! She’ll tell me it’s almost three o’clock and could I be a peach and watch Ben for an hour or so while she and Dom go upstairs and make sweet passionate love at full volume? Well, I see right through her. Two can play at this game.
“Thank you,” I say. I sit back down at the table. Pick up my sandwich. Take a huge bite of their love peanut butter. Smack my lips like I’ve never tasted such glorious food before. Ben smiles at me, just a little. Stacey looks a bit puzzled, but I’m sure that is all part of her plan. I hear Dom sigh behind me, but he sits down next to me. His arm brushes against mine again, and even though I think of things like fireworks and explosions, I force them away because I have to stay focused.
“What were you guys talking about before I got here?” Stacey asks. She opens her purse and pulls out a blank sheet of paper with some crayons rolled up inside. She opens it for Ben, who immediately starts drawing. Okay, so she’s some kind of supermom. Good for her.
“Just about how upset Tyson was that he missed the wedding,” Dominic says, and I choke on the sandwich. He reaches over and uses his baby-sized hands to swat at my back, and it’s like getting hit by a car. I glare at him even as I try to breathe. I’m finally able to swallow around the sandwich.
“Sorry,” I say. “Just choked a bit.”
“The wedding?” Stacey asks. “It did seem a bit odd not to have you there. Everything else about Dom’s life involved you, so it felt a little empty when you weren’t there.”
Master of manipulation, she is. I feel like the world’s biggest asshole. “School… stuff,” I stammer. “Had… stuff… school.”
She nods. “Of course, we understand. It did come up suddenly. Dom didn’t even know I’d sent out the invitations until people started to RSVP. Had to get the show on the road.” She nods toward Ben.
I knew it. And now that it’s been confirmed… well. Okay. It doesn’t change a thing. Except that maybe she man-trapped him.
“But that’s in the past,” she says cheerfully. “No need to rehash old details, right?”
“Right,” Dom agrees. “No need to rehash old details.”
“How’s New Hampshire?” she asks.
I shrug. “Okay, I guess. It’s… humid.”
“Decided on a major yet?”
“No. I’m… still deciding.” And while I’m deciding, I do believe I’m getting dangerously close to getting kicked out altogether. You see, they don’t like it when you just float through your classes, especially when you’re there on full academic scholarship. Apparently, I’m not “living up to my potential.” And I was stoned more often than not. So, still deciding.
She nods, as if this is perfectly acceptable for someone of my intellect who has already been at school for almost four years, deciding on major after major only to panic and switch yet again. But she can’t know that. Unless she knows more than she’s saying. “You’ve got plenty of time. After Ben was diagnosed, I decided to go back to school with a focus on special education. It’s a bit different than teaching eighth graders, but it’s worth it.”
Ah, goddammit. She’s supermom and saintly? Son of a bitch. “That’s… amazing,” I say begrudgingly. Because it really is.
“You play with the hand you’re dealt,” she says, touching her son’s hair lightly. “And you make the most of what you have.”
I’m such a jerk. I need to get out of here. “Yeah. Look, I’ll get out of your hair now. You just got home and probably want to spend time with Dom and Ben. I didn’t mean to show up out of the blue. Hell, I didn’t mean to show up at all, but Corey forced me, and then I heard Ben laughing and then he drew a bear and we had peanut butter and now I can’t seem to stop talking, so I’m pretty much done.”
“Who’s Corey?” she asks.
“His boyfriend,” Dominic says. Who knew a two-hundred-thirty-pound man could sound bitchy? Probably because I’ve interrupted his happy day.
“He is not. We don’t even like each other like that.” Great, now I sound like a twelve-year-old girl. Fantastic.
“Methinks you doth protest too much,” she says, but she’s looking at Dom when she says it. I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.
“This has been fun,” I say. “Really—”
“I don’t live here,” Stacey says to me. “Haven’t for a long time.”
Wait. What? “I didn’t know that,” I manage to say.
She looks amused. “Seems as if there’s a lot you don’t know.”
“It’s really none of my business.”
“Why is that? Dom used to be your business.”
“Things change,” Dom says.
“They do, don’t they?” she says. “Priorities. Feelings. So many things.” She doesn’t sound mad. Or even sad. On the contrary, she sounds like she finds something hysterically funny. I almost want to ask her what the joke is, but I don’t think I want to know the answer.
Dominic groans. “This is all your fault, Stacey.”
“No shit, big guy,” she says with a grin. “You should have realized that from the start. Is he packed and ready to go?”
“Bag’s by the door.”
“You want me to keep him over the weekend? Seems like you’ve got stuff to do. You know. Work and all.”
“You bother me,” he says with a frown.
“Only because you deserve to be bothered. Ben, we’re going to Mommy’s now. You can finish your drawing there, okay?”
He pays her no attention and continues to draw.
“Ben,” she says again, touching his arm gently. She doesn’t try to remove the crayon from his grip. “It’s time to go.”
He ignores her and scribbles along the page. Another bear, it looks like.
“Sometimes he’s there,” she says to me. “Sometimes he doesn’t want to listen. It depends on the day, I guess.”
“Ursidae,” I say without thinking.
Ben stops. Puts down the crayon. Looks up at me. Watches me with a tilted head. “Mustelidae,” he says finally.
“Time to go, buddy,” I say.
“Your house?” he asks. “It’s green.”
“It is green, but not my house. Your house.”
“Mom’s house.”
“Sure.”
He nods and slides out from his booster seat. He walks over to the doorway and stands there, staring out into the hallway.
“How did…?” Stacey says.
“Weird, right?” Dom asks. “Just met him a few days ago.”
“That’s huge,” Stacey says. Her eyes look suspiciously shiny as she wipes them with her hand.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask nervously. “I didn’t mean to—”
Stacey laughs. “No, Kid. You didn’t. You….” She shakes her head. “You’re just you. Like you’ve always been.”
She stands, and Dom and I follow suit. She moves around the table, and for the second time in less than twenty minutes, she envelops me in a tight hug. “You don’t know everything,” she whispers fiercely in my ear. “You may think you do, but you don’t. Don’t run again.” Louder, she says, “You’ll be around?”
My mind is reeling. “Yeah. For a bit. Driving down to Tucson in a couple weeks to drop Corey off, then coming back for the rest of summer.”
“I’m sure I’ll see you,” she says. She brushes her lips against my cheek as she lets me go.
“Yeah.”
She winks at me and turns toward Dom and Ben. Ben stands next to his father, resting his forehead against Dom’s leg. It hurts my heart and I don’t know why. Stacey punches Dom gently on the shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid, big guy,” she says, affection clear in her voice. “You safe?”
He smiles at her, and for a moment, I’m reminded of when I caught them in the hallway, years ago, his hand in her hair. “Always,” he says. “Call you?”
She nods. “Time to go, Benny boy.” She takes his hand as Dom leans down to hug him with one arm.
“You be good for your mom,” he says.
Ben looks back at me as his dad stands back up. “You live here now?”
“In my house, yes,” I say.
He nods as if this makes perfect sense. Then they’re gone. I hear the door shut. The car starts. And then it’s almost perfectly quiet, aside from the creaking of the house and the screaming in my head.
Get out. Get out. Get out getoutgetoutgetout.
“I have to go,” I say. I take a step toward the doorway. Dom blocks it again. He doesn’t move. Just stares out the window. “Dominic. I need to—”
“Divorced,” he says without looking at me. “A little while after Ben was born. What did you call it? Shotgun wedding.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought it was for the best. Funny how these things turn out. We made better friends than we ever did husband and wife. I suppose that’s more than most people could ask for.”
I say nothing.
“She remarried. Last year. Great guy. He’s a doctor at the hospital. Loves Ben as if he were his own. Treats him like a prince. Treats her like she’s a queen. I couldn’t ask for more.”
I can. What about you? What do you get from all of it?
He finally looks at me. “And I’d do it again,” he says roughly. “If it meant I could have Ben, I’d do it all again. The same way. Every time. Nothing has been the same because of him. I’d do it again.”
“Yeah. Okay.” I don’t know what else to say.
“You left.”
“I know.”
“You cut me out.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What?” He shouldn’t be. He’s done nothing wrong. “Why?”
“That I’d do it again. For him.”
“He’s your son. You’re supposed to say things like that.”
“What about you?” He looks out the window again. Soft sunlight follows the strong curve of his jaw.
“What about me?”
“You… you’re you.”
“I’m me.”
“I know how my life is,” he says. “Because of Ben, I know routine. That’s all I know.”
“As it should be.”
“But you….”
I see what he’s saying. You’re not routine. You mess things up. You break everything, and I can’t have you here. I can’t. It’s getting harder to breathe. “I… I d-don’t w-w-want—” Stop stuttering!
“You fit,” he says simply. “Somehow, you fit.”
In. Hold for three seconds. Out. Hold for three seconds.
“Even after all this time,” he says, “somehow, some way, you fit. Like it’s nothing at all.” He shakes his head.
And steps aside.
I take the chance I’ve been given. I can’t let him see me break. Not him. Not now. I rush toward the doorway. I’m barely past him when he reaches out again and circles my wrist, holding it tight. It’s now or never. The words almost don’t come out. “I’m sorry too,” I gasp. “This whole… everything. I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Any of it.” I struggle, trying to get away. I’ve said it, said what I’ve needed to, and I need to leave. Now.
Dom bends down and presses his forehead against my cheek, his mouth near my ear. “That’s a start,” he growls in a voice that zings right through me. “But you should know, Tyson, that if you try to run again, I will find you. That’s a promise. This bullshit is over. You’d do well to remember that.”
He lets me go, and I blindly run away, away, away.