by Liz Durano
“Kevin isn’t the reason I’m leaving, Frank,” Alma says. “Look, I’m sorry you guys feel this way, but Tyler and I are leaving today and that’s it. I know it’s short notice but you guys can visit us there. My door’s always going to be open for you two. I left you the address the other night and you have my number.”
“You’ve been seeing him awhile, haven’t you?” Doreen says as she points at me. “Why else would you just uproot Tyler and leave like this, except for a man, huh? You did it when you met Drew and now you’re doing it with his best friend. His best friend! I bet you guys were seeing each other–”
“Alright, that’s it.” Everyone stops to stare at me, as if just realizing I’m there. It’s not my fight but someone’s got to stop it. I loved Drew like a brother and I know he loved Alma more than anything in the world. But I’m not going to stand here and let her take more emotional beating than she’s already gone through. She lost her fucking husband, for crying out loud and she’s doing her best to raise Tyler on her own. Between the way they’re treating her now and Kevin, no wonder she needs a fucking change of scenery. As I take a step away from the car toward Frank and Doreen, Alma rushes toward Tyler who is starting to fuss.
“Drew was my friend, Mrs. Thomas,” I say. “He saved my life in Afghanistan and I’ll never forget that. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him and I would never do anything to destroy his trust.”
“Destroy his trust? You’re doing just that, son. You’re taking her and our grandson away from us. Why’d you have to plant this crazy idea in her head? She doesn’t know what she’s doing. If she did, Drew would still be alive.”
“It’s not her fault,” I say. “You need to understand that Drew’s death is not her fault.”
“I’m done.” Frank shakes his head in disgust and looks at Doreen. “Get in the car, Doreen. There’s nothing else we can do here.”
As they leave without saying goodbye, Alma stands next to me with Tyler in her arms. She blinks back her tears and clears her throat.
“I understand where they’re coming from. I mean, I’m taking away their only link to Drew,” she says. “But at the same time, I know this is what he would have wanted, that I do what I think is best for Tyler and me.”
“And that’s exactly what you’re doing, Al. They can visit you there if they want.”
She studies my face. “But what if it doesn’t work out, Sawyer? What then?”
I study Alma’s face. I remember asking the same question while living in a used camper van and learning how to build my first earthship. This was before I got the offer to work for Trident Elite, after my leg got stronger and my mind got better, when I stopped dreaming of the ghosts of my friends who didn’t make it back alive wanting to know why I was spared and they weren’t.
“But what if it does work out, Al?”
6
Alma
The drive out of LA is the usual bumper to bumper traffic, but by the time we get to the I-15, it’s a smooth ride to Barstow, our first stop. Tyler laughs happily as he watches the world whizz by outside his window, as if he knows that we’re heading someplace new and exciting. It’s the break I need to collect myself after my confrontation with Drew’s parents and I’m grateful that Sawyer doesn’t say anything.
At Barstow Station, we find an empty booth at the back of the train car so I can nurse Tyler away from view while Sawyer buys some snacks and water to go with the sandwiches we brought in from the cooler. He comes back with bottles of juice and water, chips, and a pressed penny souvenir from one of the coin operated stands. He slips the penny into the first slot of a vinyl holder and hands it to me.
“I’ll make sure to buy a penny at each stop so he’ll have a souvenir of his first ever road trip,” he says, grinning, “although I doubt he’ll remember this one.”
“I’ll remember,” I say and slip the penny holder into the diaper bag. “Does that count?”
Sawyer doesn’t answer, although I swear I see a blush creep beneath his beard as he takes a sip of water.
From Barstow, we make our way to Flagstaff. I sit in the back seat next to Tyler, entertaining him with the toys I’ve brought along with me. Sometimes I catch Sawyer watching us in the rearview mirror. Sometimes he catches me watching him.
It’s a harmless game between us and I’m grateful for the distraction. I’ve never met any of Sawyer’s girlfriends before but I’ve seen pictures of them, or at least, one of them, a petite woman with a pixie hair cut whom Drew told me was a massage therapist and yoga instructor. I vaguely remember Drew saying that she was the reason Sawyer spent a lot of time in Sedona although that was a few years ago. The only thing I know about Sawyer’s love life so far these days is that he doesn’t wear a ring.
“You sure you don’t want me to take over driving?” I ask when I catch him looking at me again.
“Nah, I’m good. Take a nap if you want, Al. I got this,” he replies as I lean back in my seat. “You don’t mind country music, do you?”
So far, our playlist has included Phish and the Dave Matthews Band. No country music—yet. “I’d never have figured you for a country music fan, Sawyer.”
“I’m cycling through all the songs on my phone so I think country is next. I don’t think Tyler would appreciate heavy metal.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I know I won’t, not with him in the car, but country’s fine.”
Sawyer grins. “Country it is then.”
By the time Kip Moore’s Bittersweet Company plays on the radio, Tyler is fast asleep. I prop one of the neck pillows I brought with me against the window and close my eyes. With nothing to look at but barren landscape and cars and trucks zipping past, I might as well join Tyler in his nap.
When I wake up, Tyler is wide awake and kicking happily on one of the stuffed animals by his feet. Sawyer looks at me through the rearview mirror before focusing his attention back on the road ahead.
“Are we there yet?” I stretch my neck, my body starting to get sore from all the sitting.
“Almost. About ten minutes.”
“Oh, good.” I look at Tyler who seems so content in his car seat before I realize why. He’s busy concentrating. “Uh-oh! I think Ty just went number two.”
“Eight minutes,” Sawyer says as he hits the gas. “You may need to crack open a window.”
We make it into Flagstaff in seven minutes. While Sawyer fills up the gas tank, I find the family bathroom where I change Tyler’s diaper and clean him up. When I emerge from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, Sawyer has parked the SUV in the lot with all the windows rolled down.
“That bad, huh?” I ask, giggling.
He grins. “It could have been worse.”
“So where do we go from here? I need to stretch my legs.”
“I do, too,” he says, stretching his neck and shoulders. “It’s still light out so we can take a walk downtown. We can check out Route 66 and do some shopping and grab a bite to eat.”
“That’s a great idea.” I buckle Tyler in his car seat. He’s restless and I am, too, and the last thing I want to do is sit down again.
“Fair enough.”
We get back in the SUV and head downtown. Sawyer finds parking along Aspen Avenue and with Tyler in his stroller, we walk two blocks toward Route 66, taking our time as we walk past shops and restaurants. I wish I had more time to hang out but we’re not really on a sight-seeing trip. This is merely a stopover.
We find a local pizzeria along the way and have dinner of pizza and chicken wings. Sawyer tells me how he learned how to build earthships by attending workshops and then later, when he met his friend Dax Drexel, a local woodworker, Sawyer got to hone his skillset by building the Pearl, a 6000-square-foot sustainable home that took almost three years to build. Dax used to rent it out for workshops before he moved in with his wife, a transplant surgeon from New York.
“She left New York to live off the grid?” I ask as Tyler busies himself with cereal.
“
A lot of people leave the big city to live out there. You’ll meet doctors, teachers, business owners… it’s like a regular slice of Americana, only it’s off the grid.”
“So does she practice in Taos now?” I ask.
“No, she doesn’t do surgeries anymore, as far as I can tell,” Sawyer replies. “They fly to New York every few months because that’s where Dax’s father lives and Harlow still owns half of the private medical practice with a colleague.”
Sawyer pauses when Tyler takes over the conversation by saying ba-ba and holding up a Cheerio toward him. But before Sawyer can take the offering, Tyler puts it in his mouth.
“Whenever they’re out of town, Todd and I maintain the place for them. They know you and Tyler are coming and they can’t wait to meet you,” Sawyer adds.
“I’m glad to hear that. I was afraid I wouldn’t know anyone else there except for you.”
“Is that bad?”
I shake my head. “No, but Tyler needs play dates, like, with kids his age.”
“Bummer. Now I’m hurt,” he says, making a sad face which amuses Tyler. “I really do hope this move will work out for you and Tyler, Alma. You’re taking a huge step.”
“It worked out for you,” I say. “I remember when you weren’t looking too hot after you got back from Afghanistan. You’d just had all those surgeries on your leg and I remember you telling Drew it was hurting constantly. Then you left California and settled in Taos, and the next thing I know, you looked like a new man when you came back to visit.”
Sawyer looks thoughtful for a few moments. “I wouldn’t go that far, but moving out of LA did help. Not even Todd’s Hollywood house could make me stay, although all that time, I thought it was the ocean that was making my leg hurt.”
“Was it?”
Sawyer points to his temple. “No, it was up here, and the pills I was taking that left me too loopy to do anything. When I couldn’t function without popping seven pills a day, I knew I needed to find the Reset button somewhere. I couldn’t imagine living my life with all those pills. One to help me sleep, another to deal with the dreams, and another for the pain.”
“That’s almost like Drew to a T,” I say. “He ended up needing up to eight pills a day. He could barely leave the house because he started having stomach issues from one of the medications and it took awhile before he could be seen to address the issue. It didn’t help that he started drinking to numb himself from the pain.”
“I’m sorry, Al. I wish you could have told me all this.”
“I figured if he had seen you go through it first, he’d have told you about it.”
“He didn’t but I know if he did tell me, I’d have told him what worked for me.” Sawyer wipes his mouth with a napkin and sets it down on the table.
“What did work for you?”
“There was a yoga class at the VA and I remember checking it out. It really helped me deal with some of my issues even though I hated admitting that I had any issues to begin with,” Sawyer continues, “That’s when I decided to leave everything behind and take that road trip. Todd wasn’t happy. He’d just bought this cool house a few blocks from Chateau Marmont. Paid a fortune for it. I mean, he could literally hang with the hottest stars and keep an eye on his younger brother and make sure he didn’t...” he pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, “he didn’t hurt himself.”
“So he could tell you were going through stuff?” I almost tell Sawyer that I wished Kevin were the same way but decide against it.
“Oh, yeah. He’s my older brother.” Sawyer says. “I did a great job hiding it from everyone else but he could tell. Being around the crowd he used to hang out with wasn’t good for me either. Booze, drugs, women. It was cool… for awhile.”
“And so you took that road trip.”
“And I ended up in New Mexico,” he says. “Santa Fe first and while I was there, I found this flyer about sustainable homes. Someone was giving a workshop and they needed people who were willing to do the work to learn how to build one. Hands-on training, they said. And so I drove up to Taos and that was it.”
“And you’ve been there ever since.”
“Ever since,” he says, shrugging. “But don’t get me wrong, Alma. It’s not just building those sustainable homes that helped me. It was a whole lot more, just more… what you’d say, alternative.”
“How alternative?” I ask. “Building sustainable homes replaced your need to take seven medications?”
“No, there’s one that I still take but only when I have to,” he replies. “As far as alternative, there was bodywork, meditation, yoga. Chi-gong. You name it, I tried it. Kept a few, got rid of a few. I’m not saying I’m a hundred percent better, but I’m better than I used to be.”
“I’m really happy you found something that worked, Sawyer,” I say as Tyler babbles, his arms reaching out for me. As I lift Tyler from the high chair and hold him in my arms, I just wish Drew found something that worked for him before he did what he did.
By the time we make it to the hotel an hour later, Tyler is cranky, tired, and hungry. Sawyer helps bring my bags up to my room and also set up Tyler’s portable crib. I set Tyler down and give him his favorite toy, the purple octopus, which cheers him up immediately.
“I’m in the room across from you,” Sawyer says as I walk him to the door. “If you need anything, just holler. Or call.”
“I will.” He opens the door but doesn’t completely step outside. He’s standing so close to me that I can smell his cologne mingled with his scent, reminding me of a forest. I touch his forearm, electricity traveling all the way down my spine. “So… so what are your plans for the evening? Seeing friends in the area?”
Sawyer thinks for a moment and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m staying in. I’ll probably be working out in the hotel gym. What about you?”
I cock my head toward Tyler in his playpen, suddenly in need of a reason to smile or laugh. After all the talk about PTSD during dinner, I want to end the evening on a lighter note. Maybe, even be playful for a change. “I’ve got a hot date with a blond that involves a bath and then bedtime. You’d be jealous.”
“I am,” Sawyer says, chuckling, and I’m suddenly reminded of the way we used to be so comfortable with each other. “I hope you don’t limit your dates to blonds. I hear brunettes are way better on the fun scale.”
As he shifts his weight on the other leg, the nearness of him is intoxicating and take a sudden intake of breath. Everything about Sawyer reminds me of men in old movies, brooding heroes like Humphrey Bogart. His scent reminds me it’s been too long since I’ve been with a man.
That’s what I heard, too,” I say, biting my lip. “I just might give it a try one day.”
Sawyer draws in a long breath. “You should, Al. You won’t regret it.”
You sound pretty sure about that, Mr. Villier.”
“Damn right, I am,” Sawyer murmurs as his head dips lower toward mine, his face mere inches away. I don’t realize I’m leaning forward, wanting to close the gap until the memory of us standing so close together in the hallway a year before comes back to me, of Sawyer cupping my face and asking me if I was okay, our faces drawing closer, too close for people who called themselves friends.
I pull away, startled and ashamed. “I gotta go. Thanks so much for all your help.”
I close the door behind him a little too hard and lock the door. My heart is beating fast, butterflies in my belly fluttering wildly. Get a hold of yourself, Alma. He’s your husband’s best friend. He’s off-limits!
I hurry to the playpen and pick Tyler up. I need to think of other things like bathing and getting him ready for bed instead of thinking of how I failed Drew when I left just when he needed me the most. Maybe his parents and Kevin are right. If I’d stayed with him, he’d still be alive right now. I wouldn’t be driving halfway across the country, running away from the ghosts of the failure that I was as a wife and as Tyler’s mother. Why else would I have rented an apartment r
ight next to the car repair shop in the first place, too afraid to move into a better neighborhood knowing people who’d hear about Drew would talk about me behind my back?
I’d let my fear and shame take over.
That’s done now. I’ve woken up and here I am, hundreds of miles away from where I used to be, looking for a second chance at happiness. But I can’t allow myself to find it in Sawyer, not him. Not my husband’s best friend.
7
Sawyer
Alma is already packed and ready to go in the morning when I see her in the hotel restaurant with Tyler. This time, we don’t talk much. We keep the conversation on general topics like the weather, the drive, and just about anything that doesn’t involve ourselves.
On the road, we don’t talk. We settle into our seats and I keep an eye on the road while Alma looks out the window. Sometimes she follows along on the map to see which town is coming up. She’s definitely not looking my way if she can help it. I hate the silence between us but it’s easier that way. Drew hasn’t even been dead a year and here I am, making all the moves on his wife.
Why on earth did I ask her to move to Taos? Why couldn’t I have simply helped her find a new apartment back in LA? I’d have fulfilled my promise to a dead man and get to walk away for good.
Promise kept. End of story.
But I do none of that. Instead, I complicate things. I ask Alma to uproot her life and move to a place where she doesn’t know anyone but me.
For the first four hours, Alma sits in the back seat entertaining Tyler with the toys she brought along from hand puppets to cloth books and other stuffed toys. I like how she’s completely present with him, the way she uses different voices as she sings nursery rhymes and interacts with him. I’d always known she was good with children—after all, she taught kindergarten when they moved to Torrance after Drew left the Marines—but I’d never seen her interact with them until now.