by T. J. Klune
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.
15. Where Tyson Remembers Theresa Jean Paquinn
AS I run, his words echoing in my ears, I think of Mrs. P.
I was five years old when we first met. It was early afternoon, and I sat outside our shitty apartment on a ratty lawn chair trying to read a book, waiting for Bear to get home. He was in high school, approaching the end, and more and more, all I could think about was how soon he would be gone and it would just be me and Mom left here in this place. I was too smart for my age (as I’ve always been), and coupled with an overactive imagination, I was sure it’d be the end of me with my brother gone. I was trying to devise a way to convince Bear to take me with him. I’d keep out of your way! I thought I’d tell him. I’d even sleep under your bed. Just please don’t leave me here alone. Please don’t leave me behind.
The door to our apartment opened and my mother poked her head out, a cigarette dangling from her lips. “What are you doing?” she asked as if it wasn’t plainly obvious.
“Reading,” I said, showing her the book.
“You
were reading all morning,” she said, blowing out smoke. Her eyes were red-rimmed and gummy. “That’s what your teacher told me.”
“I like reading,” I mumbled. Other kids in my kindergarten class made fun of me for having a book all the time. I didn’t see what the big deal was.
“You didn’t get that from me,” she said.
“I know.”
“Your brother isn’t much of a reader, either.”
“I know.”
“You’re a strange one, Kid.”
“I know.”
She nodded, as if she’d expected that. “I’m going out tonight and won’t be back until late. Bear will need to take you to school in the morning so I don’t have to get up.”
I said nothing.
“I think there’s Pop-Tarts in the kitchen if you get hungry later. I’m going to go lay down.”
Please leave. I just want to read and dream that I can leave with Bear.
“Kid? You hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“Then answer me when I’m talking to you.”
“Sorry.”
She finished her cigarette and stubbed it out on the cracked wood of the doorway. She flicked the butt up and over the railing. She leaned over and ruffled my hair, and I smelled her, smoke and dying flowers. “Don’t look so mopey,” she said with a half smile. “It’s never as bad as you think it is.”
She left me alone and shut the door as I thought, No. It can get worse. Much worse.
I looked down at my Star Wars watch. Bear would be home in two hours and twenty-six minutes. He didn’t have to work tonight, so maybe we could go out and do something, just me and him. Then I’d ask him if I could go with him again. By then, I’d surely think of something. He was my brother, after all. He wouldn’t leave me here. He just wouldn’t.
Feeling better, I started reading again about Aslan and Narnia.
Only a short while later, I met her.
A car pulled into the cracked parking lot, one bigger than any car I’d ever seen before. It was loud and brown and exhaust spewed from the tailpipe. It parked in a space near the stairs and shuddered as it died.
The front door swung open, so loud it sounded as if it were breaking. I couldn’t see who got out of the vehicle since stairs blocked the way. The front door slammed shut and then the rear door opened.