We'll Fly Away

by Bryan Bliss

  “He’d need some WD-40 to dust that thing off,” Bo said.

  His dad kept naming names—Jenny? Twyla? Who was that one girl who dated the state trooper?—and Toby shook his head to each of them, trying to think up a name that wouldn’t have consequences. Wouldn’t have a connection.

  “Hell, it wasn’t Doreen, was it? That would be really fucked up.”

  Toby took a drink of beer, hoping the answer would come like a prophetic vision. A prayer with every ounce he swallowed. Jimmy called for another beer and Bo tossed it to him. He opened it and smiled.

  “I’m messing with you,” he finally said, draining his beer. He burped loudly and then turned to Bo. “You got everything we need?”

  Bo nodded, but he was still smiling at Toby. His smile was different from Jimmy’s, which was a kind of mean-spirited playfulness. This was harder, like he not only knew Toby was lying, but knew the truth. Bo fingered the top of his beer and watched Toby until Jimmy yelled his name from outside. Without a word, Bo stood up, grabbed the beer, and walked out the door.

  Toby lay down on the couch, trying to go to sleep. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Lily. He felt her against his body. Fifteen minutes later he was up and in the El Camino, driving to her house.

  As he drove, Toby encountered a brief moment of panic. Was he being weird? Probably. But he wanted to think it was more sweet than pathetic. He imagined her opening the door, a wry smile on her face. At first, she’d play at being angry—“I told you we were taking the weekend.” Something. And Toby would nod, biting his lip because he was going against the plan. What he’d say next would have to seal the deal. It would have to be perfect.

  But when he pulled into her driveway, the house was completely dark. Even the porch light was off. He still knocked, thinking maybe she was asleep. After two more attempts, both louder than the last, he went back to the car to wait.

  January 26

  T—

  I was still thinking about Eddie went I went to bed tonight. He’s always been upfront about what he’s done. About who he used to be. And man, I want to believe that I’m like that too. But every time Eddie gets done talking, he’s smiling. I don’t even know who I used to be, let alone who I am right now, T.

  After I confessed, they sent me straight to get sentenced. And that went quick because I wouldn’t help the lawyer at all. Sister says I was still in shock about what I’d done. I guess that’s the technical term for it, shock. But when I hear that word, I think it should mean something that sets you off. Something that’s alive, right? But there wasn’t anything alive about me then. I was walking around in a cloud, one of those thick ones that don’t come around North Carolina that much.

  You remember when we hiked up to camp on Bakers Mountain and the fog rolled in? That’s what I called it—fog. Of course you knew how far up we were, we had to go that high to make sure the sheriff’s deputies didn’t see us. And you were like, “This ain’t fog, dude. This is a damn cloud!” You were adamant about that shit too. I’m cracking up thinking about how your face looked. Like you were ready to fight me.

  That night, after you fell asleep, I got out of my sleeping bag and walked around. I can’t remember why I couldn’t sleep. Maybe Doreen had done something. Or your dad. But how did I not fall off the side of that mountain? I couldn’t see a damn thing. I think we were what—fourteen?

  Anyway, that’s what it felt like sitting in that courtroom. Like I was stuck in some kind of fog and I couldn’t escape. I was so pissed off. At myself. At you. At the whole world, T. Sister was right about that much. My lawyer asked me to give him a name of somebody who would come to speak for me. You know Coach would’ve come. Annie. Somebody. But I kept my mouth shut the whole time. I let the newspapers and everybody else tell the world who I was.

  A killer. A monster. A tragic story all around.

  As I’m sitting here in my cell, middle of the night, trying to write so nobody can see or hear me, I don’t know how to think about all that.

  Am I supposed to say I’m sorry? Can I even do that now? And who am I supposed to apologize to anyway? You, maybe. If I’m being completely truthful, there are moments when I see your face and it’s everything I can do to stop myself from bashing my head against the wall.

  Luke

  21

  THEY’D spent the night content to do nothing but explore each other’s bodies. Sleeping had never been something Luke enjoyed so much, their arms and legs intertwined. When the first light of morning peeked through the blinds of the apartment, Luke leaned over and kissed Annie gently on the ear. She giggled.

  “I could get used to this,” she said.

  “Well, what do you think about Iowa?”

  It came out confident, but now that the words were floating between them, Luke worried she’d dismiss the idea of coming with him in a hundred different ways. She tried to turn and face him, but instead fell off the couch, laughing as she lay there. Luke slid off and joined her on the floor.

  “I’m going to get dressed before your brothers wake up.”

  Luke reached for her playfully and she laughed again, jumping out of his reach. She looked over her shoulder just before she turned the corner and disappeared into the bathroom. Luke stood up and got himself dressed. He probably needed a shower, but he could do that after the twins were awake. Other than that, he tried to make the living room look like he and Annie hadn’t been having sex all night.

  Somebody knocked on the door.

  When the second knock came before he could even take a step, Luke knew it was Toby. Normally he’d push his way into the apartment, already halfway into a sentence and forcing Luke to play catch-up. But when Luke opened the door, he was standing on the landing, looking small in the weak parking-lot light.

  “Hey,” Luke said. He stepped onto the landing, closing the door behind him. Toby kicked his heel into the concrete. It didn’t escape Luke that he wouldn’t look him in the eye. Could barely keep himself still.

  “You okay?” Luke finally asked.

  “Spectacular,” he said.

  “You look like shit,” Luke said.

  “Well . . .”

  Toby looked so run-down, and it shook Luke. This was the bottom of the ocean for both of them, the farthest away they could go from the plans they’d made. Luke had to decide he didn’t care about being right anymore. Because they were out of their depth. But if he was going to do it, he needed Toby to come up for breath with him.

  “Do we have a plan?” Toby asked.

  “A plan? For what?”

  Toby’s eyes shot up, searching Luke’s face. “About next year. Iowa.”

  Luke leaned back against the wall in relief. He had no idea what had precipitated this, but it was at least a question he could answer.

  “Of course, T. We’re going. As soon as we can.” The answer hadn’t changed since he signed that paper. “Unless you changed your mind?”

  Toby stopped kicking his heel and sighed. “Where are we going to live? Or more importantly, where am I going to live? What happens to me when we get to Iowa and there’s no place for me? What if they make you live in a dorm, which I’m pretty sure they’re going to do?”

  He paced like a caged animal, and Luke had no idea why. They had months to figure this out. And they would do just that—figure it out.

  “I don’t understand. We can . . .”

  “Of course you don’t understand. Of course.”

  Luke threw up his hands. “Just tell me! Don’t come here acting all mysterious. I’ve been through everything with you, man. Everything. And now because you meet some girl, you think I’m going to change my mind?”

  “This isn’t about her,” Toby said.

  “Yeah? Well, I bet if she showed up right now, you wouldn’t take a second look in my direction. That is, until you need me to help you fix it. Then you’ll come running back just like you always do.”

  “Fuck you,” Toby said, pointing a finger in Luke’s face.

 
; “Get your hand out of my face.”

  “Or what? You’re going to hit me?”

  Luke faltered, and he stood there wordless and wondering what he could say to get through to Toby. Behind them, the door opened. Annie was holding Jack-Jack, who was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

  “You guys woke him up,” Annie said, glaring at Luke. When Jack-Jack saw Toby, he bolted awake.

  “Did you spend the night too?” he asked Toby, looking around at all of them. When no one answered, he said, “Annie will make you Mickey Mouse pancakes if you want.”

  Toby shook his head. “I only eat regular, round—American—pancakes.”

  Jack-Jack turned to Annie, his face worried. She leaned her forehead against his and said, “I got this. Go get your brother up for me, okay?”

  He ran screaming into the apartment. When he was out of earshot, Annie turned to Toby and Luke and gave them a clipped smile.

  “You two should come inside.”

  They both paused, waiting for the other to say something. To apologize. But Toby waited for Luke and Luke waited for Toby and when the wind blew, it shook Luke violently. He nodded to the door.

  “It’s freezing out here. Do you want to come in or not?”

  Luke could hear Annie gathering the boys in the kitchen. The twins laughed, almost immediately followed by one telling the other to stop. Toby walked past Luke, into the living room.

  Annie was singing in the kitchen, the boys helping her mix the batter. Before Luke could even sit down, Toby sighed and said, “Well, it’s obvious you two fucked.”

  Luke nearly fell down. His eyes shot to the kitchen, making sure the boys—Annie—hadn’t heard him. When he turned back, Toby was stretching out on the couch.

  “What the hell, man?” Luke said.

  “Dude, she’s in there making breakfast. You guys are practically married.”

  Luke looked into the kitchen. Annie was smiling down at the boys and, for a moment, he wondered: is this good enough? Sure, Iowa was great. The type of opportunity only a few thousand people have ever gotten. But there was more than one way to escape. More than one way to be happy.

  “This is my fault—I never told you,” Toby said. “You don’t have to marry the first person who touches you.”

  “Please shut up,” Luke said, checking the kitchen again. Annie had two plates in her hands, pointed for the living room. The anger he had felt earlier was replaced by a rapid embarrassment. But when Annie walked into the room, Luke and Toby were both smiling.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Luke said. “I promise neither of us is ever going to speak about it again.”

  They spent the morning watching television, cartoons that kept the boys entertained. Toby sat on the floor, at the far end of the couch, not saying much after the initial outburst. Every so often, Luke looked over at him and tried to figure out what he was thinking. Toby laughed at the cartoons and joked with the boys, just like every other time he’d been at the apartment. But as the day wore on, Luke could feel the tension building between them again.

  Annie looked up from the pillow she had put on Luke’s lap and tapped him on the knee. She crossed her eyes, and even though it was simple and a little stupid, he laughed. Toby looked over at them and smiled politely, immediately going back to the television.

  At dinnertime, Luke got up and put the cold spaghetti into the microwave. As he waited for it to warm up, he looked in to the living room and imagined it as a painting. One of those ones they saw on a field trip to the small art museum downtown. They had pictures of the oddest things there. A bench. An apple. Stuff that Luke had trouble calling art until his teacher told him to think about it as a slice of life. A way we are able to see what another person saw at a very specific moment.

  And maybe that’s all this was with Toby—a moment. Something they would knuckle through and remember, although likely not fondly.

  Annie bolted upright on the couch and told everyone to be quiet.

  “Do you hear that?” she asked. But before anybody could answer, she ran to the window and looked through the blinds. “Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. I have to go.”

  Luke tried to slow her down, but she ran through the apartment grabbing clothes and shoes. She was trying to put her jacket and shoes on at the same time when Petey, oblivious, said her name.

  “Is there any more garlic bread?”

  Annie shook her head, speaking as she fixed her hair and checked her face in the glass of the window. “We ate it all, honey. I promise I’ll make you more.”

  She almost ran out the door without a word to Luke, who was still trying to figure out what was happening. When she saw his confusion, she stopped, but Luke could tell she didn’t want to.

  “It’s David. My stepdad. He just pulled up in his truck and . . .” Luke followed Annie’s gaze out the window. In the parking lot, a semitruck cab was parked in the far corner. A short, slightly overweight man was lowering himself down. “I’m not in trouble. Everything is fine. I just really need to be down there when he gets inside. Okay?”

  Luke still must have looked worried, because Annie paused long enough to take both of his hands in hers. “Really. I’m fine. David’s started going to these truck-stop churches. So he’s gotten kind of annoyingly religious lately. Him leaving me alone is a big deal. It’s just . . . I’ll explain later. Okay?”

  She gave Luke a kiss and ran out the door. When she was gone, Toby pulled the blinds down and looked at David.

  “Shit. Look at the size of that cup.”

  Luke looked over Toby’s shoulder. David was fumbling with a hundred-ounce insulated mug emblazoned with the Mountain Dew logo. Luke shot a glance toward Annie’s apartment. The door was just closing as David started across the parking lot.

  “That’s commitment to keeping a lot of liquid cold,” Toby said. “And oh damn! I think he’s wearing a headset!”

  Toby went off on an extended riff about the benefits of having a CB radio in the El Camino, what his call sign would be—“This is HoneyBear signing off, good buddy!”—until he fell on the couch, tickled with himself. Luke watched Annie’s apartment for fifteen minutes after the door closed, making excuses to go to the window. Ready to jump off the balcony and bust down her door if anything seemed wrong.

  The last time he stood up, Toby said, “She’s fine. It’s just parent stuff. Speaking of that, is Doreen ever coming back?”

  The twins both perked up at the mention of their mom. Luke went over and turned up the television. It was enough to redirect their attention while he motioned Toby outside onto the porch. Luke leaned against the railing and looked around the parking lot.

  “I could call Ricky’s cell again,” he said. “But hell, what does it even matter at this point?”

  “Do you think they’re okay?”

  Luke did a few push-ups on the railing. “Probably? I feel bad for saying it, but if they got into a car accident I’d be relieved. At least that’s a reason to ditch your kids for two days.”

  Toby grunted. “I can watch the kids if you want to go run or something. I know you’ve got Herrera Monday.”

  Luke stopped with the push-ups. When was the last time he and Toby had spent more than a few days apart? When was the last time they hadn’t shared every single moment that happened, nearly in real time? And now they were standing out here with too much to talk about. Luke had no idea where to even begin.

  “Actually, I made weight,” he said.

  Toby threw his hands up in the air. “It’s a damn miracle!” Toby said. “Maybe next time we go out to eat you can order something like a normal human being.”

  Luke smiled to himself, knocking out a few more awkward push-ups. When he stood up, glancing at Annie’s apartment, unease fluttered in his stomach for what he was about to say.

  “I told Annie she could come to Iowa,” Luke said.

  At first Toby didn’t react. When he did, it started in his eyes. A flicker of annoyance. A sharpness that
finally manifested itself in a simple, stilted shrug.

  “Hey, I’m just along for the ride.”

  Luke had no idea if this would’ve annoyed him before, but now it did. It was the sort of response Toby excelled at when he felt slighted. One or two words that came out like a razor.

  “That’s it?”

  Toby held his palms up. “What do you want me to say? I’m glad you’re happy, but . . .” He laughed.

  Luke already knew what he was going to say. “It’s totally different. You barely know that woman.”

  “Lily. Jesus. Her name is Lily. And I’ve known her—what? Two days less than you’ve known Annie? You’re right, I should be careful.”

  Luke didn’t want to start a fight, but if they stacked up the evidence side by side, he was pretty sure the case for Lily would crumble. Met her at a bar, check! Got an underage kid drunk, bingo! And let’s not forgot the two days of ditching school—a rotten cherry on top.

  Oh yeah, she and Annie were exactly alike.

  “You know what?” Toby said, watching Luke. “I’m going to go hang out with the boys. If you want Annie to come to Iowa, great. But please don’t pretend like anything you’re doing is better than what I’m doing.”

  And then he walked inside.

  22

  IN the middle of the night, Toby snuck into the kitchen and pulled out the phone book. There wasn’t a listing for Lily Griffin, but there was a Reverend Arlo Griffin, and Toby dialed it. It rang and rang with no answer, probably fifty times, before Toby hung up. He spent the rest of the night on the kitchen floor, dialing and waiting.

  The next morning, Toby barely said a word to Luke. Part of it was the new, knee-jerk anger, but mostly he was thinking of Lily. He couldn’t figure out if she was simply ignoring his calls, or wasn’t at home. And neither made him feel any better.

  At lunch, Luke made another pot of spaghetti while Toby sat in the living room with the twins. As the smell of the sauce reached the living room, Petey and Jack-Jack perked up.