by TJ Klune
“That wasn’t my choice,” Dominic says quietly.
“I didn’t say it was. Don’t interrupt me again. We clear?”
Dominic nods. His jaw twitches.
“You haven’t been here, Dom. I know that’s not your fault. I’m not blaming you for anything. But things are different now. We make the choices we do to protect those we love. You, of all people, should know this. The Kid might be a pain in my ass, and he might not think things through all the time…”
“Gee,” I mutter. “I wonder where I got that from.”
“… but he is my brother and he belongs to me. I’ve raised him. I’ve cared for him. I’ve held him when the panic attacks became so fucking strong he couldn’t breathe. He’s stronger than anyone else I know, but he can still break, and if you’re the one to break him, then may God save you from me. You’re still a member of this family, and I love you, but if you hurt him, Dominic, I will end you.”
“I’ve never wanted to hurt him. All I’ve ever wanted—”
“Doesn’t matter now,” Bear interrupts. “You can have your say, whatever it is, and I won’t stop you. But panic disorder is a very real thing, and the panic attacks can be extraordinarily harmful. Do not do anything to set that off, you get me?”
Dominic watches Bear, and I think there’s a very real possibility that Dominic is going to reach down for his Taser and shoot Bear in the face. That would be a perfect end to this already magnificent day.
“I get you,” he finally says.
Bear’s eyes soften, but only just. “Do you need us to pick up Ben? It has to be close to the end of your shift.”
Ben?
Dominic shakes his head. “He needs his routine, you know? Can you call Anna? He knows her. She’s on the emergency contact list, and it’ll be easier.”
“Sure. It’s fine. I can have her bring him here. Just remember what I said, okay?”
“You’re wrong, though,” Dominic says.
Oh, shit.
Even Otter’s eyes widen.
“About what?” Bear asks, his voice going dangerously low.
“About Tyson belonging just to you,” Dominic says. “You know as well as I do that from the first moment I laid eyes on him, he belonged to me too. Maybe even more than you. The moment he followed that ant outside, he was mine.”
Uh. What?
“Now might be a good time for you to leave,” Otter says, stepping around Bear, who is beginning to do his best impression of turning his face into a tomato. Otter whispers something in Bear’s ear, and Bear snarls at him at first, but then deflates. He looks over at me, and that same indiscernible look from before flits across his face.
“All you need to do,” Bear says, sounding defeated, “is remember to just breathe, okay?”
I nod, unsure what just happened. This feels like one of those dreams where you know you’re dreaming but can’t do anything to stop it.
Bear lets Otter pull him away. “And take those cuffs off him,” Bear says over his shoulder. He sounds livid. “As much as he deserves them, they’ll only make things worse.” He doesn’t look back.
I’m still watching him disappear into the Green Monstrosity when Dominic moves in front of me. He leans down into the car and pushes me forward. His breath is hot and harsh on the back of my neck. His big hands fumble with the cuffs until the lock releases. Blood rushes into my wrists, and the skin feels like it’s buzzing. I can smell him. Something like October leaves. Maybe like rain. His chin scrapes against my shoulder, and I think, You are done with this. You are over this. It has taken you four years, but you’ve beaten it. There is nothing for you here. This place is memories of a time when life sucked but then got okay again. That’s all. You have come home to say good-bye because this is the beginning of the rest of your life.
He pulls back and our gazes lock. He’s no more than a foot away. He’s impossibly big. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. It can’t. It won’t.
He stands and shuts the door. I rub my wrists. They’re a bit sore.
Kori watches me through the window, a worried look on her face. I give her a smile that is supposed to be reassuring. It feels like a lie.
Dominic gets into the front seat of the cruiser. He glances at me in the rearview mirror, but doesn’t speak. He starts the car and we leave everyone behind.
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 h
ow 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.