Peace Love Resistance

by Jettie Woodruff

  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get her out of my head. Not only her, him, too. Vulnerable, baby Tobias. More than once I caught myself closing my eyes, feeling him in my arms, smelling his sweet scent, and then I would slap myself a few times, wondering what the hell I was thinking.

  Just because my parents decided to ruin what was supposed to be the best year of my life, didn’t mean I wanted to ruin the rest of it. I had plans and I was going places. For me. Because I was ready to take on the world and make my own way. No longer interested in what everyone else thought was best for me. A career in art. Maybe a tattoo artist or possibly my own studio where I’d hold art shows and sell my work for thousands of dollars. There was no place but up for me, and that’s where I was headed. Where I could have any girl I wanted, a penthouse in downtown L.A., a Porsche or a Lamborghini, and an airplane ready to fly me anywhere in the world I wanted to go.

  But…

  That was then, this was now.

  My mom was cleaning up the beer cans from the porch when I pulled up on the old bike, and my dad was nowhere in sight. “Hey, sit down.”

  “No, I don’t want to sit. What do you want?”

  “Sit down, Tobias.”

  I rolled my eyes and plopped to the front step against my will, ready to take yet another lecture. “What?”

  “What’s your deal? Are you going to be like this all summer?”

  I’d been there for two days, ripped from my home and my friends, and she wanted to do this. Again. I shrugged without words. What the hell did she expect? One, I was done with this conversation. We didn’t need to have it anymore. Two, I sort of hated her. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

  “Because I’m your mom. I’m not going to leave you alone,” she assured me, her tone softening, turning manipulative on a dime. “Come on, Ty. You’re not even giving him a chance.”

  I backed away, keeping her from brushing my hair from my forehead with her fingers. I hated when she did that. “I don’t know what you expect. I’ve talked to the guy like a handful of times in the past five years. You’re the one who wants the relationship with him, not me. Why do I have to try anything?”

  “We’re not leaving, Ty.”

  “Until you get bored,” I said, my point blank expression, matching the accusation.

  “What do you expect, Ty? I’m doing the best I can here.”

  “Whatever, I’ll be eighteen in three months. We can just keep living your fairytale, life. For now.”

  “You’re graduating high school. That’s not even negotiable if that’s what you’re thinking. Stop being a jerk. Guess what?”

  Again, I shook my head in disbelief, my eyes rolling to the right and landing on the clearing and the thick woods. Where she was. “What?”

  “You’ll have internet out here tomorrow. That should make you happy.”

  I stood, my foot on the top step, unsure if she would shut up and let me go or not. She’d worked from home for some insurance company for at least eight years. The Internet wasn’t for me. She needed it to work. “Ecstatic. I’m going to play Xbox.”

  She sighed, just like Tristan had, but lucky for me, she let me go. “Unpack your boxes. You have that entire attic right above your room. Your dad said you could make it yours if you want. Your own private layer.”

  “That’s special. I’ll see ya around,” I nonchalantly said, words tossed over my shoulder. Walking to the kitchen, I prayed he wouldn’t be there. My stomach was growling like crazy, but my starvation wasn’t worth another conversation about the same shit with him. Lucky for me, he was right there, pouring two cups of coffee. Despairingly, I groaned, trying like hell to get away.

  “Hey, come here.”

  I turned around, making sure he heard the exasperated breath. “What?”

  “Your mom tell you Internet was coming tomorrow? For homework,” he added, failing the attempt to be funny.

  “Yeah, she told me.”

  “Hey,” he called again when I tried to leave with just that.

  Another breath meant to be heard. “What? I’m going to go play Xbox.”

  “Did she tell you to take over the attic? Do whatever you want with it.”

  “Yeah, she told me.”

  “Tobias,” he called again.

  Jesus. “Oh, my God. What, Dad?”

  “I got something else for you, too. Thought maybe it would give you something to do until school starts.”

  “You don’t have to give me stuff. I’ve got something to do. Play Call of Duty,” I assured him, my thumb hiking toward the stairs.

  “Come and see it anyway.”

  I didn’t have a choice. My dad walked to me, his glare, staring me down until he was close enough to reach me. His hand slapped right between my shoulders, harder than needed and he squeezed my neck. “Dude, I’m good. I don’t need your gifts.”

  Even after I tried to get away, his authority and the tightening fingers round my neck kept me moving out the back door. “A little more respect, son. Go to the barn,” he ordered, a light shove toward the old red building I used to love to play in.

  I jerked my shoulders when we walked out, jolting my body away from his grip. Asshole.

  “Go ahead. Open the door.”

  Holding tight to my attitude, I slid the old door to the side, attitude in check with my hateful eyes on him and not the barn. “What?”

  “Your mom told me you were into this warrior thing, strength courses or something like that. I thought maybe we could make a course in here. We can hang some ropes; make a climbing wall, you know, like that one show on TV. What do you think?”

  My eyes were wide, my heart beating rapidly out of my chest, but not at his stupid idea. I took the or my first in a course the summer before in Cali, and I liked to watch American Ninja Warrior. That didn’t make me a fanatic. This black window van, however did. I remembered getting in it and pretending like I was driving it when I was a little kid. I assumed it was long gone, not that I really thought about it, but still. “Where did this van come from?”

  “It was left here when we bought this place, fifteen years ago. I always planned on getting it out of here, but you know. Life happens.”

  Yeah, dad’s turn into drunks and get lazy. Of course that’s not what I said. I was too excited about the window van. This thing stared me straight in the eyes, a huge passenger van. Who needed a tent that bears could get into? I could park it right where hers was. “Did anyone die?”

  “What?” My dad questioned, confusion riddled across his face.

  I pulled on the smashed door, talking with my back to him. For whatever reason, that helped keep me from being a dick to him the way I wanted to. Besides, I was too stoked about this van. My van. “In the wreck. Did anyone die?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. I never asked. I’ve never seen a ghost out here or inside the house. I don’t think we need any ghost busters just yet.”

  Again, the attempt to be funny fell flat. I was in a state of trance, thoughts and ideas bouncing around my head. It really wasn’t that bad. Most of the damage was on the driver’s side, and no rust at all. “This is sweet. Do you have a title?”

  “Um, yeah. I think it’s in the safe. Why?”

  “Can I have it? Can I fix it up?”

  Although my dad was a little stunned, confused at my excitement for the van rather than his ninja course idea, he said yes. “I guess so, but why? This looks like a lot of work to me.”

  “I don’t care. I want to do it,” I said, my hands gliding over the black paint with a smile I couldn’t contain.

  Of course he smiled back, happy that I was feeding off his hook. Whatever. He could think he was the reason the rooster crowed. I didn’t care. At least this gave me something to do with my time. Not only that. My wheels out of here. This was perfect. More than perfect.

  My dad switched gears, hoping to reel me in. “Okay, Here’s the deal. You get it up and running by the time school starts and I’ll buy four new wheels. Yo
ur choice. Choosing your rims are like picking out a ring for your girl. It takes time and has to have the right fit. Plus it’s a lot of fun to look at them, anticipate the find. You know?”

  Of course I didn’t question the wheels he’d obviously bought at some point in his life; besides, I was almost sure I already knew. An early nineties Trans Am. I remembered the photo with the beer cans dragging behind. My dad was behind the wheel, and my young mother hung out the T-Top, waving and holding her hand over a very pregnant stomach, covered in white silk.

  “I love these wheels. They’re original,” I exclaimed, the doors on the side, screeching from rust when I opened them. It was a little rough, but somebody had started on the work. The back seat was the only one left, a sleeping bag and pillow rolled up on one end. My eyes glanced up, happy for the high-top, the design being etched into my brain. The timing of it all couldn’t have been funnier, and had I believed in fate, I would have found it peculiar, like the events didn’t just happen on their own. Had my dad brought me out there before I’d met Tristan and delivered a baby not named after me, I would have told him to go to hell. But now…It gave me purpose and I couldn’t wait to start on it.

  That’s how I spent my Sunday afternoon, in the barn with a cool breeze blowing through the doors. I got a lot done during those hours that I thought about Tristan and Tobias, my mind switching from internal blueprints for my new ride to them. Back and forth. The mangled door, the front fender, and the hood were all in a pile right outside by eight at night. My dad let me use the battery out of his truck to try to turn it over, but it didn’t crank. Of course it didn’t start; my luck didn’t go that way. Ever.

  I sat behind the wheel, looking back at the interior lights with a sandwich delivered by my mom. At least the wiring wasn’t screwed, although I’d probably check it out anyway. Biting into my barbeque pork, I turned the knob on the radio, a smile on my face. It worked. AM – FM, cassette and I couldn’t have been happier. The radio was like the soul. I hated restored cars where they put in new futuristic stereos. That wasn’t a true restore if you asked me. My eyes glanced up, pulling a photo from the visor. A man, a ball headed baby in a diaper, and the mom I presumed. The three of them stood on the porch, holding a real-estate, sold sign. They looked young and happy, and you could tell by the look on their faces that this was a new beginning for them. The start of an adventure, a new family, and a first home.

  I wondered why they’d left, shoving the photo in the pocket of my shorts, and snooped some more, a twangy country song coming from the speakers. “Hmm,” I hummed, pondering the one way plane ticket for a guy named Shane Swan. New York, September 9, 2001. Seven-thirty AM. What was even creepier was the appointment card for a guy named Carl Caster. This guy had an appointment at nine in the morning in the North Tower. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had died in the van. He never made it to his appointment. That was apparent, I had the plane ticket in my hand. How weird would that be? I pondered. If the guy died one day before he was meant to die? Freaky. I tossed the papers back to the cubby hole, feeling a little weirded out, continuing to investigate the previous owners. A pacifier caught my attention on the open space on the back floor, and I hoped the entire family hadn’t died. That would be horrible. Nonetheless, it didn’t kill my mojo, I was still ecstatic, and I couldn’t wait to dig into it, put my own touch on it, and make it mine. The damage just wasn’t bad enough for someone to die in it. Maybe if there was no seatbelt, and then I still doubted it.

  I’d just replaced my dad’s battery when my mom called out.

  “Ty, Avery’s on the phone.”

  I grinned from ear to ear, slamming the hood on the truck. Clearing all three steps in one leap, I moved Kota with a knee and sprinted to the kitchen to the old phone, my day getting better and better.

  “Hi, how’s it going? I saw your photos on Facebook. Man I wish I was there.”

  “It’s nice. I’m tired. I think I’m still drunk from last night. I don’t know if I can do this for a month. Blah,” she moaned like her beach house life was horrible.

  “You suck. Damn, I want to be there.”

  Avery cleared her throat, a nervous giggle leading to the words I knew she was about to say. “Hey, I’m calling for a reason, Ty.”

  My feelings went from envy to dread in the blink of an eye. I knew with everything in me what was about to happen. The rest of the end of my life. Boom. Like an explosion. Dumping a little more shit in my lap like I didn’t have enough already. “Oh yeah? What’s up?”

  “I’ve sort of met someone here, Ty. You’re so far away, and I kind of want to see where it goes.”

  “You just got there.”

  “Yeah, but when are we going to be together again? That’s the deal. You’re not even going to be in school next year. I can’t be a single senior, Ty. I’m not that girl, you know that.”

  I scratched my head, trying to make sense of her bullshit excuses. She wanted to fuck somebody else and that’s all this was about. That’s if she hadn’t already. My guess was she had. “I’m heading back that way as soon as I turn eighteen. You know that. You were perfectly okay with it the other night.” I stopped myself before mentioning how okay she was after I’d just spent my last fifty bucks on her, a new swimsuit cover up for her trip. It looked like an oversized tee-shirt to me, but I bought it anyway. Because she begged and I wanted to get laid. Pulling on the long cord, I stretched to the back porch, away from my parent’s ears. She actually said she didn’t think she could do it, couldn’t be without me. Real tears and everything.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pissed, but not as pissed as I would have been, pre-Tristan. I don’t know why, but that’s how it was. My heart was more crushed hearing that Tobias wasn’t really named after me more than her cheating confession. Nonetheless, I gave her the easy out with zero fight. “Fine, Tristan. You’re not worth fighting for. Go fuck your new dude. I hope he gives you a disease.”

  “What? Tristan? Who the hell is Tristan?”

  I blinked, unbelieving that I had said that. Had Avery not called me out on it, I wouldn’t have even realized I’d done it. “A girl, way prettier than you, much better in bed, and you need lessons. You sort of suck at it.”

  Avery told me to fuck off, screaming something about me being a lying, cheating, something. That’s when I walked back in and placed the old phone over the receiver, a smile that I didn’t understand covering my face. I actually felt a little lighter, like I’d just simplified my life, and I wasn’t even mad. It was her. I knew that. It was Tristan and how fucked up my head was over this girl. But why? That was the puzzle.

  “Night,” I called to my parents.

  My dad was watching the election shit, and my mom sat practically on his lap, her eyes looking up from her book to me. “You going to bed already? How’s Avery?”

  “We broke up. Night.”

  “What? Why?”

  I gave her a sarcastic look, spitting words meant to sting. “Because you took me away from her, from my home, remember?”

  “Night, Ty,” my dad called, his hand going behind my mom’s neck, stopping the discussion before it ever had a chance to start.

  Whatever, I didn’t want to have it anyway.

  Chapter Four

  I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…

  In life after life, in age after age, forever.

  ~Rabindranath Tagore

  After a quick shower, I took my bag of weed up to the attic, and out to the roof. I looked to where I knew she was first, the fire flickering now and then through the dense trees, but no forms. Next I looked straight up, stars bright and glimmering above my head, and even with Avery dumping me, I felt in awe, the sky that magical. Then again it could have been the weed. Regardless, it was breathtakingly beautiful. Once I was nice and relaxed, I laid back, thinking about the night before when I had been out there, the events playing out in my mind. Tobias was almost one day old. That meant something special and warmed my
chest for unknown reasons.

  I messed around on my phone, wishing I could do some research on the van. Maybe even look up the guy who’d owned it before. Possibly, find an obituary for the dude whose name I couldn’t remember at the time, thanks to L.A. weed. Despite the internal lecturing, trying to talk me down from the munchies, I sighed and climbed through the window, giving into the temptation.

  “Ty, bring your dirty clothes when you come,” my mom called, stopping me on the third step.

  I grumbled, chastising myself for being so noisy and turned around, back up the steps for my laundry. The corner of something from my shorts caught my eye when I scooped up the pile of clothes on the bathroom floor and I pulled it out. Glancing at the family on our front porch, I stuck the picture to the mirror, continuing my way to a bag of Dorito’s and hopefully some of that leftover pork.

  My dad tried to talk to me about the van, giving me ideas about putting limousine seats in it with purple mood lighting, and a Bose sound system.

  Noting the designs I wasn’t interested in, I blew him off, continuing to fill a bowl full of chocolate ice cream, grabbing the bag of chips, and a handful of Oreos. “Nah, I got a pretty good idea what I want to do already. Night.”

  I climbed back out to the roof, my junk food under one arm. The fire across the river had started to dwindle, a flicker here and there, but the lights inside the van were very bright. Had I had a set of binoculars, I could have seen her. That’s when I held the cold ice cream in my mouth, my eyes wide and my mind already climbing back through the window. My dad was an avid deer hunter. Of course he had binoculars.

  Once again, I rushed down the steps, right in on a make out session. My mom could hear me coming to tell me to do something, but not to climb off my dad. “Seriously? Guys, this is getting a little ridiculous. Dad, do you have a set a binoculars I can use?”

  My mom jumped to the end of the sofa, holding her unfastened jean shorts closed, yelling at me like it was my fault. “Jesus, Tobias, you could at least clear your throat or something.”