Chapter Thirty-One
I’m standing around the bonfire, feeling slightly buzzed and chatting with a couple of Dad and Gan’s other fishing buddies about the season they’ve had, when suddenly—
“Hey.” I hear a gruff voice I’m all too familiar with, grunt behind me.
“Gordy,” I greet tersely, spinning to face him. He must have come straight from work, because he’s still wearing his Portside Pub polo shirt.
“Listen man, I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you…”
“Okay?” I ask, arching an eyebrow up.
“Can we”—he peers over my shoulder, looking oddly concerned—“talk somewhere where your boyfriend isn’t shooting eye daggers at me?”
When I look behind me, I see that Brooks does indeed look like he’s narrowing his eyes at Gordy, all while nodding along to whatever my father is yammering on about to him. I’m guessing he’s recognized the establishment emblazoned on Gordy’s shirt and has put two-and-two together.
I turn my attention back to Gordy. “Whatever you want to say to me, you can say in front of him. He’s my partner; he’s just looking out for me.”
He looks down at his feet and nods. “I’m assuming he knows what I did to you, back in high school?”
“Yes. He knows,” I tell him.
He peers back up at me, a pained expression on his face. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. Did he tell you—”
Suddenly, I feel an arm snake around my back, and a body press in close to mine. “Everything okay here?” Brooks asks me, cutting Gordy off from whatever else he was about to ask.
“Depends on what he has to talk to me about.” I pop my chin towards Gordy.
The two give each other a look that I can’t put my finger on, like they share a secret between them. It unnerves me, this look they’re sharing. Gordy looks like he can’t believe his own eyes. Brooks looks… confused. Very, very confused.
It’s confusing the fuck out of me, too.
Gordy finally sighs. “Well, I guess maybe it’s better he be here for this, too. Waters, man, I want to apologize, alright? I’ve been meaning to for a while now, but every time I try, you give me the cold shoulder.”
I bark out an incredulous laugh. “Well, fuck. I can’t imagine why!”
“Listen, I know what I did was beyond fucked up on so many levels.”
“You think?” I hiss. “Not to mention, illegal.”
“Yeah, I’m well aware.” Gordy rolls his eyes.
“Believe me, the shit I did haunts me every fucking day, okay? Respectfully, I don’t need you to remind me.
Not that it makes it any better, but the shit Colton has done to the bar is also illegal, and I’ve let it go, because you did the same for me.
You never brought up charges against me after what I did to you, back in the day.
You had every right to take legal action. I know that now, and yet you didn’t.”
“Because I was goddamn petrified,” I seethe. “Not because I didn’t think you needed to pay for what you did. For years, decades, what you did to me damaged me. Do you get that, Gordy? Do you even have any idea what it’s like to live with that? To live with battle scars from being hurt so badly?”
Brooks presses his palm against my chest, backing me up from where I’ve puffed up and have my fists balled at my sides. “Evan, please don’t hurt him…”
Why the fuck not? Now’s my chance to actually stick up for myself against him, the way I should have back then. Why the fuck shouldn’t I cold clock him right the fuck now?
As I glare at Gordy, I see his expression grow distant. Like he shifted, and he’s no longer present in this argument with me. His jaw hardens as he stares off vacantly, like he’s waiting for the hit.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Gordy finally says, his voice laced with gravel, his watery eyes snapping back to mine.
“That’s why I needed that fuckin’ scholarship so badly that I stooped to that level.
I needed to get the fuck out of that house.
I was willing to do literally fucking anything, Evan.
I know I hurt you, because you were an easy target.
It’s a shit excuse, but it’s all I have.
I live with the guilt every goddamn day. ”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Gordy’s eyes flick up to Brooks, and shame floods his features. His lower lip trembles. “You know…”
Brooks’ lips thin into a flat line, as he rolls them between his teeth. My brows furrow. What the hell is going on here?
Suddenly, I have a flashback to the last conversation I had with Gordy at the pub. There was something he said that had struck me as odd at the time, but then I glossed over it, because I was more concerned with finding out what he meant about Colton and the vandalism.
Gordy had said something like, “Kid doesn’t even know half the shit I had to go through as punishment, when I was his age.”
I turn to Brooks. “Do you mind giving us a minute, babe?”
“Sure…” Brooks says hesitantly. “I’ll be nearby if you need me.”
I nod. “I’ll be fine.”
Once Brooks is back over with Mum, I spin to Gordy. “Did your dad abuse you?”
Gordy’s face goes ashen. He looks like he’s going to be sick. “More than that,” he barely manages to choke out the words. “I was just a fucking kid…” he adds, vaguely, as a single tear rolls down his cheek.
Suddenly, Gordy looks like he’s about to pass out. I guide him over to one of the lawn chairs and sit him down in it. “Gordy, fuck, hold on. Let me get you a water or something.”
“No,” he croaks. “I-I need to get this out to y-you. S-so you know…”
“You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”
More like I’m getting way too uncomfortable with whatever it is he has to tell me.
Whatever it is, it’s bad…
He shakes his head. “I-It d-doesn’t ex-cuse what I did to you. It m-makes it w-worse. I’m s-so fucking sorry,” he barely gets to whisper that out, between panic-stricken breathing. “He never told you…”
Who never told me, and what the hell am I missing here?
I haven’t seen him look this sick and worked up since we were back at our own summer camp experience.
The year I met him, and the year I stupidly acted on a crush I had on him…
and I made what I thought was an innocuous move on him.
The way he freaked out on me then is so similar to how he’s freaking out on me now—
Oh… my… fucking… god. No. No, fuck no. I myself suddenly feel like I could throw up. What the hell have I done? What the hell did I do then? Fuck, I am such an idiot!
Gordy hasn’t said the words out loud, but the insinuation is goddamned crystal clear.
If Marlin Masterson wasn’t already dead in the ground, I’d fuckin’ kill him right now.
Seeing his grown son here nearly having a panic attack—trying to apologize to me, when he so obviously had more going on beneath the surface—is gutting me.
His face is blank, and he’s hugging himself, rocking back and forth on the chair.
He’s mumbling nonsense now, cowering as if he expects me to attack, looming over him the way I am.
“Fuck, Gordy…” I get down on his level to try to calm him down. “Breathe, Gordy. It’s okay, he can’t hurt you here.”
I’m shell-shocked. I don’t know what to do, or how to react to this. Talking Brooks through a panic attack is one thing, but this is on a whole other level. Not to mention, I have my own complex baggage built into Gordy’s own obvious traumatic experience, and I’m the one that just triggered this.
Fuck. Fuck!
The terror I see in his eyes as he clutches his chest, gasping, isn’t something that can be faked to divert attention from his actions. He’s going through something horrifying in his mind right now. I need to try to get him out of that place, but how?
“Gordy?” I try to get through to him without touching him, because I don’t want to spook him any more than he already is. “Gordy, listen to me. If you can hear me, I’m going to get you help.”
Brooks, spotting trouble, comes rushing over. “Can you call an ambulance?” I hastily ask him. “Gordy’s having a panic attack, or a flashback, I can’t tell. He’s had trauma. I think I just spooked him bad.”
“I’ll sit with him,” Brooks tells me. “You make the call. You know the address here. I’ll stay with him. I got this.”
I nod, and take off to go get help. After that, I fill in my parents on just the essentials—Gordy’s having a medical event and needs an ambulance—because it’s not my place to give up information I don’t think he’s told anyone else before.
Then, I ask them to tell everyone to give us space and privacy.
Gannett fills me in that this is Trista-Lynn’s weekend to have Taryn, so he’s not going to be at home wondering where his dad is.
When I get back, Brooks has got Gordy down on the ground with him, holding Gordy and gently rocking him as he uses the same grounding techniques I used on him a couple weeks ago. “Good. We’re going to get you an ambulance here, okay?”
Gordy nods. “Th-anks.”
“You’re gonna be alright. I know it’s hard bringing up the past, but I’m proud of you for doing it,” he soothes. “Takes courage to apologize the way you did. You’re brave. You’re going to continue to be brave. I know you’ve held onto this for a long time. It’s good to get it out. Okay?”
I am so damn glad that Brooks came to the rescue here. I don’t know what Gordy told him while I was making the call, if anything at all. But all that doesn’t matter, Brooks is comforting him nonetheless. Cradling him gently, soothing him with his positive affirmations.
He’s so genuinely good at what he does. I don’t know how else he would have gotten Gordy to calm down as much as he has already—like he’s known him for years, even though they just met minutes ago.
Gordy sucks air in through his nose, then purses his lips and exhales, shuddering. “Evan- y-you have e-every r-right to be m-mad,” he croaks disjointedly. “Didn’t… mean… for this… I always fuck up…”
“Shh, shh. It’s okay. Don’t worry about causing a scene. No one here is judging you, okay? We’re all friends here. No one’s mad at you,” Brooks reassures him, peering up at me for confirmation.
I nod.
The slate can never be washed clean, obviously, but there are too many years of trauma tied up in all of this—for both of us—that I can’t find it in myself to be anything less than a little sympathetic for his reasoning now, if what I suspect is true.
As Brooks sits there with Gordy, reassuring him that I’m not going to hold this over his head forever, I can’t help but think what a chaotic chain reaction of events that just unveiled itself.
Reminds me of the butterfly effect. Like every little thing that happens, happens because there are conditions before it that are amplified over time.
Each person’s actions beget another's reaction.
Life trajectories aren’t things that just fabricate out of thin air, they’re like waves on the ocean.
They have multifactorial origins. The weather, the lunar cycle, even tectonic plates shifting can affect them.
Waves can toss a boat, suck you into the rip tide, or provide you with the ride of your life—all depends on the conditions that predispose them, and how you choose to ride them out.
The only thing we can do now is acknowledge that what’s done is done, and that’s where our healing journey can start to begin.
Some time later, as the EMT’s escort Gordy into the ambulance, he points to me and curls his finger, prompting me over to him.
He pulls the oxygen mask off his face. His words come out a little less choppy now, “I never meant for this to happen, Waters. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to cause a scene. I just wanted to apologize, is all.”
“Water under the bridge,” I tell him, though it sounds so surface-level. “I hope you get the help you need. You getting that is going to be the best apology for me.”
“Fuck, dude,” he huffs with a humorless chuckle, “you’re a good man. You and Brooks both. I already have been getting help, but clearly I had a setback. Tell your boyfriend I said thanks too, would ya? I owe you guys both a round on the house, whenever I’m out.”
I nod and wave him off. “We’ll catch up sometime.”
“I’d like that.”
One of the EMT’s hops in behind him, and shuts the door. As the ambulance crunches down the gravel driveway, Brooks wraps his arms around my waist and sidles in close to my side. He doesn’t say a word as he nuzzles in as I return the hug, holding him so tight.
Nothing else needs to be said right now. He just lets the weight of the world sink in around me, reassuring me with his presence. It’s truly the only thing keeping me afloat at this moment.