“No, my brother needs me. Please, Stryder. Go find Colby.”
“Okay.” Sorrow is replaced by urgency. He sprints away and I’m left alone, trying to grab all my things and Colby’s as well.
I need to get to Bryan.
Nothing else matters right now.
* * *
My leg bounces up and down impatiently as I look out the window, willing the weekend traffic to take pity on us.
Come on, green means go, I scream in my head wishing teleportation had been invented by now.
“We’re almost there,” Colby says, his voice trying to soothe me.
It does nothing.
I need to make sure Bryan is okay.
“Are you okay?”
I shake my head. “No.” I stare at the window. “I just need to make sure he’s okay. I need to get to him.”
“I know. I’m trying, Rory.” He squeezes my hand and maneuvers around cars, trying to gain a little more speed, sailing down the road, making his best attempt to get me to Bryan.
All I can think about is how scared Bryan is, how he’s probably cowering in a corner, hitting himself because there is too much sensory stimuli. The onlookers, the judgers, the people who don’t understand why a thirty-year-old man would be wailing and hitting himself.
Not a lot of people get it.
Not a lot of people are educated about autism.
Not a lot of people have hearts kind enough to make them stop staring, to stop making assumptions, to look away instead.
Colby pulls into University Village where the Dugout Store is located, and before he can even park the car, I’m hopping out and rushing through the doors, running into racks of Rockies T-shirts and jerseys. Looking past the sea of purple, I spot my mom in the back looking stricken, the shop manager looking concerned, and then I hear him. Bryan’s soft cries hit me like a semi-trailer in the chest.
Calming myself, knowing he doesn’t like rash movements, I approach lightly despite my need to get to him as quickly as possible. When I finally see him, my stomach lurches from the sight of his bloody face, the red-stained shirt covering his chest.
Oh, Bryan.
When I reach him, I crouch down and sit cross-legged on the floor, gently placing my hand on his knee and speaking softly, barely above a whisper.
“Bryan. It’s Rory . . .”
It takes twenty minutes to calm him down, to let us help his nose stop bleeding, and to change him into a clean shirt thoughtfully given to us by the store manager. We apologized profusely and get Bryan back in the car, a baseball in hand, and a new shirt draped over his shoulders. My mom and I are worn out.
When my mom clicks the door shut to the car, I turn to her and ask, “Where’s Dad?”
“Called in for a few hours.” She presses her hand to her forehead, looking absolutely exhausted. “Thank you, honey. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” Turning to Colby, who has his arm wrapped around my waist, holding me close to his body, she says, “We couldn’t have done it without you either.”
And that’s the truth.
Colby sat next to me, carefully speaking to Bryan. At first, I didn’t want him to try to help, but once Bryan started responding to Colby, his deep voice and steady tone like my father’s, I leaned on Colby for help.
“Please, no need to thank me. I’m just glad I could be here for you too.” Glancing at the car, he asks, “Is he going to be okay?”
My mom nods. “He’ll be okay.”
“Do you want me to ride home with you?” I ask.
She shakes her head and pats my arm. “Go home, spend time with Colby. This is his last break before graduation. I got this.”
“Are you sure, Mom?”
She nods and leans over to press a kiss against my cheek. “I’m positive. Thank you both for your help.” She gives Colby a hug, and then gets in her car, giving us a little wave with her fingers.
And life goes on.
Because that’s what happens. We can’t sit and dwell, and we can’t take a break from our reality or the world. We have to keep moving forward, and we have to continue to keep life as normal as possible despite the unpredictability of each day.
Silently, Colby and I drive to my apartment, our hands linked, the experience we just went through together hanging above us. And I wish I were talking about the skydiving. Unfortunately, that is a distant memory now, nearly replaced by Bryan’s meltdown.
Some people might be mad at their brother for “ruining” a special day, but not me.
I could never be mad at him, at least not anymore, not since I’ve matured. I know Bryan can’t help it. I know when he has a sensory overload there is only one way he knows how to deal with it. It might not be conventional, it might be how we deal with it, but it’s his way, and I have adapted to that. I know I need to be there for him, to help him through it.
It’s my duty as his sister.
To take care of him. And to take care of Mom. This is hard on her, and I’m glad I’ve been able to find fulfillment here and not begrudge them missing my chance to go to New York.
When we get to my apartment, we walk up the stairs in silence, both lie down on the bed, and stare at the cracked, plastered ceiling, our hands still linked.
Before the quiet can settle over us, Colby clears his throat and says, “That’s what you were talking about in your letters?”
“Yes.”
“And it happens often?”
Keeping my gaze toward the ceiling, I say, “Not often, but often enough that it makes taking him out in public hard. There are days where he’s completely fine, but whenever we’re out, it feels like we’re on pins and needles, waiting for something to throw him off, something to scare him. And when it doesn’t happen, it’s a good day, but when it does, we take care of business and try to make him comfortable.”
“And what happens when your parents get too old to take care of Bryan?”
I lick my lips, the knowledge of my future coming to the forefront of my mind. “Then I will take care of him.” I haven’t spoken to my parents about who will take care of Bryan when, God forbid, something happens to them. I know my responsibility, and it sits heavily on me. But it’s one I will gladly take on.
“By yourself?”
I nod. “Yes. He’s my brother. I won’t ever leave him.”
And just like that, the truth hits us both hard in the chest.
Swallowing hard, I change the subject. “Stryder told me you guys got your orders.”
“Let’s not talk about that right now.” He turns and pulls me into his chest, snuggling closely.
“Just tell me, Colby.”
He’s quiet for a second, and the anticipation of what he’s going to say is about to kill me. He’s seen the reality of my life firsthand now. Today he was here to love me, to support me, to walk the line with Bryan. But when he goes, when he leaves and isn’t home each weekend, I’ll be right back where I started. Alone. That he’s not staying is crushing my heart, which is already so fragile from the last hour. It doesn’t matter what he says when he opens his mouth. Not really. Regardless, the writing is on the wall. This won’t work between us. I can’t leave here and he can’t stay. I want him with me all the time, not in snatches of precious moments. And I’ll never get that.
“Oklahoma. I leave after graduation.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart slowly breaking in half, cracking piece by piece in my chest. I have a few weeks left with Colby before he has to leave. And then what?
What happens after that?
Chapter Thirty
COLBY
“What is going on with you today?” Gramps asks, scoring another thirty points in Scrabble, while I can’t seem to score anything higher than ten.
I lean back in my chair, not bothering to make my next move. We both know it’s going to be a shitty three-letter word scoring me nothing.
“When you fell in love with Grandma, would you have done anything for her?”
“Anything,” Gramps answers quickly, sitting back as well. “That woman was my world. The moment I saw her, I knew I was supposed to marry her, that she was brought into my life for one reason, to be my wife.” Gramps shakes his head. “It took some convincing though. She was a tough one to crack, but worth the wait, worth the challenge. Why? Does this have to do with Rory? You better not have broken up with her.” Gramps gives me a warning glare.
“I didn’t break up with her.” I smooth out a wrinkle on my shirt. “Fuck, I would never do that.”
“Then why the question?”
“Remember how I told you about her brother, Bryan? How he has autism?”
Gramps strokes his jaw. “I vaguely remember you saying something like that.”
“Well, he had a meltdown the other day.” I recollect seeing Bryan all battered in the corner, scared and upset. It fucking destroyed me. I’ve spent enough time with Bryan over the past few months to consider him my brother as well, and to see him so distraught really upset me, to the point that it’s all I could think about. That and Rory, and the huge undertaking she’ll have if something happens to her parents.
“Oh no, is he okay?”
“He is now, but at the time, it was bad. He hurt himself, giving himself a bloody nose, and he’s almost unreachable when he’s in that state. We were out skydiving when her mom called for Rory’s help. Thankfully we were already on the ground, but we rushed to get there.” I take a sip of my drink and say, “Rory was trying to put on a calm face but I could tell she was shook up. She was more subdued than usual and kept gnawing on her lip, worrying, texting her mom after. This must happen more often than she tells me.”
“That can’t be easy on them.”
“It’s not. When I asked Rory what would happen if something went wrong with her parents, she said she would be in charge of Bryan.”
Gramps sits back in his chair, folding his hands together. Understanding starts to develop in his mind. “Which grounds her to this location.”
I nod. “She didn’t say it, but I read between the lines.”
“Peterson doesn’t fly F-22s out of their base.”
“I know.” It’s a fact I’ve known for a long time, and it never affected me until now. F-16 pilots are based out of Phoenix and Oklahoma. There aren’t any fighters coming out of Peterson, just heavy planes.
Gramps blows out a long breath, moving the crocheted blue and white blanket farther up on his lap despite it not being cold in his room. “That’s a problem.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
I run my hands over my face, knowing what I’m about to say is completely and utterly crazy. “What if ” —I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see my grandpa’s reaction—“what if I deferred my spot to flight school and took a job that would give me a higher chance of staying at Peterson?”
The air around us becomes thick, adding a layer of tension between Gramps and me. “Are you willing to risk your chance of going to flight school for a possibility of being stationed at Peterson?”
“I don’t know.” I blow out a heavy breath. “I love her, Gramps, more than anything, more than fucking flying. And to leave her behind, knowing she’s going to have to face this responsibility alone, I don’t think I can do it. I don’t have to stay in the Air Force. I can do my time and become a civilian or even an instructor. I know some of my advisors would stick their neck out for me, try to get me into Peterson. I could see it working out, especially since I’m top of my class.”
“But will you regret it?” His voice is even. He’s not angry, and he’s not upset about our dream being tossed around like it hasn’t been the goal for years. Instead, he’s helping me work through my thoughts, posing questions to help me weigh the pros and cons.
“I think I’m going to regret any decision I make regarding this. You know I’ve wanted to be a fighter pilot my entire life. It’s been in my blood, pushing me to be the best. But then I met Rory.” I shake my head in disbelief. “I never thought anything would overshadow my goals, that someone could make me forget about flying with one effortless smile.” Looking out the window, my gaze taking in the mountain range, my voice is even. “I want to fucking marry her one day, Gramps, and being a fighter pilot won’t grant me that luxury.”
“It almost sounds like you’ve made your decision.”
My stomach flips, conducting somersaults as I try to figure out what I truly want to do. “I don’t know, Gramps. Can I ask you this? Would you have done the same thing for Grandma if you were in my position? Would you have given up your entire future—the one you worked so desperately to achieve—for the possible chance at being with her?”
Turning away from me, looking out toward the mountains as well, Gramps lets out a long breath. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, we sit in silence, the possible death of my career sitting between us. But isn’t life with Rory worth that cost?
Scratching the side of his face, he finally says, “There is no doubt in my mind that I would have done the same thing for your grandma. Careers fade, but love lasts forever.” He turns to me now, looking more serious than I’ve ever seen him. “If this is what you want, if you truly love her, then I will support whatever you decide. Follow your heart, Colby, because it hasn’t steered you wrong yet.”
Sighing, I mutter a low oath underneath my breath, my heart racing at the idea of turning down the opportunity of a lifetime.
No one would understand my decision, no one except Gramps, because the kind of love he shared with my grandma was once in a lifetime, the kind of love you make sacrifices for, the kind of love I feel for Rory.
I think through the letters she’s sent me over the last few months, the late-night talks, the exhausted texts, the many times she mentioned being at Bryan’s side. He is the center of her universe and to be honest, that doesn’t bother me. Their bond is strong, and I would never want to do anything to get in the middle of that relationship. In fact, I would aim to strengthen it by carrying some of her load.
But I know she won’t be able to do it alone, and given her past relationships, the pathetic assholes who couldn’t put their egos aside and see the beauty that is her relationship with her brother, I know she deserves someone who cares. She needs someone who gets it, someone to take care of her when she’s taking care of someone else.
I want to be that man.
I can fly in other capacities, but I can’t find another Rory. She’s it for me. She’s the girl I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.
I know I’m making the right decision, because it’s leading my heart to my home. Rory.
Chapter Thirty-One
RORY
“Pancakes,” Ryan announces as she walks through my apartment door, bag in hand.
I roll to my side, blocking her out and tucking myself under my covers even further. When I told her I didn’t want any company, I meant it. I’m not in the mood to talk. I want to wallow.
“I’m not hungry,” I grumble.
“Too bad. I got extra fluffy pancakes for you, and I won’t be eating these on my own.” She flops down next to me on the bed and sets the bag in front of my face. “Come on, Rory, sit up and talk to me.”
Sighing, I situate my pillow against the headboard, adjust the blankets, and sit up just as Ryan puts a steaming to-go box on my lap.
“Eat up and start talking.”
We spend the next minute dressing our pancakes with butter and syrup. I might have said I wasn’t hungry, but with their delicious smell right under my nose, I think I can make an exception.
“Soo . . .” Ryan pushes, not letting this go.
I stick a huge bite of pancakes in my mouth and chew before answering her. “It’s Colby.”
“I figured as much. So what’s the problem? You two are perfect together, it actually makes me sick.”
I take another huge bite, drowning my sorrows in the fluffy goodness. “It’s not going to work.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because he’s going off to flight school soon . . . in Oklahoma.”
“So?” Ryan answers nonchalantly, as if it’s no big deal. “Go with him. No offense, love, but it’s not like you have a job that you can’t do anywhere.”
Haven’t I already thought about that?
It would be the dream, to follow him to Oklahoma. To maybe find more classes to teach that are centered around ballet. Maybe start up my own massage business from my home. Spend the nights helping Colby study, teaching him how to cook more meals in the kitchen, spending countless hours in bed talking, just the two of us, when he wasn’t training.
I’ve thought about it so many times.
But I can’t.
On a heavy breath and a shattered heart, I say, “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Fiddling with my fork, I look Ryan in the eyes. “Bryan. He needs me.”
Understanding flashes over Ryan, and her expression softens. “Rory, you can’t—”
“My parents are getting old, and they can’t take care of him forever. It’s gotten to the point where they have to ask me to come help them. What are they going to do if I’m not living here? Bryan responds to me. He needs me.”
Ryan is silent for a moment, poking her fork in her pancakes, avoiding all eye contact. I can feel it. She’s gearing up to say something I don’t want to hear. “You know I love you and Bryan, right?” she starts. Here it comes. “But you already gave up so much. Are you really going to give up the guy who’s not only accepted Bryan into his life, but also has stolen your heart?”
A ball the size of a cantaloupe starts to form in my throat. My eyes tingle, prickling with tears, and the feeling of utter devastation overwhelms me. Even pancakes can’t even help with this feeling. “I don’t think I have a choice.” I shake my head, my throat burning, my words coming out strained. “I can’t leave Bryan, and Colby can’t stay here.” Tears fall down my cheeks as I vocalize the final nail in the coffin that I found out from doing some research. “And even after flight school, if Colby is assigned to fly F-16s like he so desperately wants, he won’t be flying them from Peterson, because they don’t fly out of that base.”
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