CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
My stomach feels sick. We woke up early, it’s only five so the sun hasn’t even come out yet. Both of our things fit into one bag, although Toro wasn’t that pleased with me when I told him we couldn’t bring the radio we bought.
Right now he’s occupied with me, squeezing my thigh like a stress ball. I wish I knew what he was thinking. I want to be able to say the perfect thing to ease his mind—to make him feel good about this. I never intended to rip him away from his life, but it’s not… the worst thing?
I want him to know genuine kindness. Genuine love.
Not just from me, but the rest of the world too.
In a house like that he won’t ever get to keep growing as a person.
Just him and I in his bedroom until we die.
It’s not how I want to live, and no matter how much he fights it I know it’s not how he wants to live either.
One thing I’ll miss is all the animals, though. I wish we could take Toro Jr. with us. Our flowers were finally just beginning to blossom, too. We’ll have to start a garden of our own when we finally get out of this place.
A weary little huff leaves him, chin digging into my shoulderblade. His beard is already starting to grow back, the little stubble he has brushing against me and making me chuckle softly.
“Nico…” he whispers loud enough for only me to hear. “...Scared.”
“Me too,” I reply just as quietly. “But this is going to be good, okay? Promise.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Toro hugs me properly, kissing my nape over and over. The tip of his nose rubs against me, another sleepy huff escaping him.
The bus depot is nestled deep in the city, and I see it now. We’re here. We’re really here. There’s a few people walking out and about, the building is painted nice and blue with a large sign out front.
Alma pulls into an empty parking spot, glancing back at us. Her expression says so much more than her words could right now, but she still forces herself to smile at us. “Please call. I mean it. I’m… I’m really gonna be worried about y’all.”
“I will. I just… My phone is still broken. But maybe if we find one—”
She sighs, before turning back. “Okay. It’s okay. Y’all should get goin’. I’m not sure what the schedule is like.”
The morning air is refreshingly cool, washing over me as I step outside. When I glance over my shoulder Toro isn’t behind me. Instead, he’s hugging the back of Alma’s seat. My heart melts, and now I feel even worse for making him leave her.
She whispers something to him and he smiles, giving her one last squeeze for good measure hopping out of the truck.
I half-expect him to look all sad, but he’s looking like a lottery winner.
He quickly steps up to me, grabbing my sides and lifting me up in the air and giving me a little spin before bringing me close.
“We’re here.” He says gently, kissing the top of my head before letting me down. “Really here.”
I hug him, his presence more comforting now than it has ever been before. When I step back I see that Alma hasn’t left yet, so I wave at her. Her face brightens, waving back while Toro does the same.
Then the truck starts up and she’s gone.
It’s just Toro and I here at the bus depot. About to leave and start a new life, a better life. My legs feel like jelly, the tight jeans not helping much. Still, we head inside and are greeted with tiled floors and navy blue walls.
There’s a vending machine tucked into the corner, lots of benches for waiting. The lady behind the counter looks at us but doesn’t say or do anything. I force myself to be an adult and step up to the counter, glancing up at the departure board.
“H-Hi,” my voice is shaking. “Can we get… Are there two tickets to the five-thirty… bus to New Mexico? Uh… the… Alamogordo, please.”
Her earrings are noisy when she turns her head, staring at me through thin-rimmed glasses. The woman’s eyes are a tired hazel, face etched with exhaustion. “Alright. That’ll be one-ninety please.”
Toro already has the backpack in his hands, with a wallet full of money that definitely didn’t belong to him until yesterday. He plucks out two hundred dollar bills, sliding them across the counter.
She takes it, obviously not interested in the two of us at all. After typing something into the computer with very long clicky-clacky nails, the tickets print out and she slides back over with a receipt.
“Y’all have a good day, now.” Her voice is quiet while I take the tickets, staring at them for way too long. The woman must have finally noticed how off put I look, since she wordlessly raises a brow at me.
“Thanks,” I mumble before turning. I use my free hand to grab Toro’s and lead him towards the actual loading bay. We have twenty minutes until the bus is gonna come and whisk us away…
There’s an actual plan now. We’re gonna head up to New Mexico, and after that we'll catch another bus. If we can make it to Utah we can go to my grandma’s place. She’s basically who raised me after my parents divorced, and I love her so much.
I know she’ll love Toro just as much as I do.
My head sluggishly falls on his shoulder. I obviously didn’t get any sleep last night, and the odd silence of this place is weirdly calming. Even with all the nerves and the fear I know this is right. It has to be.
When the bus finally comes, Toro and I are the first in line. We don’t have any luggage to put away so we just race to our seats. The seats are old and clearly not cared for, but I don’t give two shits. They could be slabs of concrete and I’d be happy.
We’re getting away. Him and I. It almost feels like a dream. Toro takes the window seat, nervously toying with the hem of his red jacket. I rummage through the bag and grab the MP3 player, alongside the white wired earbuds that Alma said we could take.
He takes the one I offer him, the tension in his muscles deflating when his favorite song starts to play. He’s staring out the window, but when the bus starts moving reality seems to dawn on him since he gulps nervously.
It’s over. It’s done.
No more Damien. No more Mr. Tavera. No more farm. He’s never gonna be treated as lesser than again, at least not when I’m around. I take his hand in case he needs it, staring at him hesitantly.
Is he upset? Is he mad? Is he having second doubts about this? About us? It’s hard to read him right now. I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep or the stress or what, but I feel so helpless.
Until he leans in to kiss me.
The kiss is like a piece of candy. Small, soft, sweet, but one is just never enough. I grab his collar and pull him in for another one, doing my best to keep it public-appropriate despite the fact I just want to devour him whole right now.
“Hey, Toro?” I ask when we’re done, loving how he’s all red-faced and adorable. “I got you something. From the vending machine.”
“Huh?”
He watches as I dig through the bag, before finally pulling something out. The aluminum foil is bumpy, but the blue and white branding is unmistakable. I hold it out to him, melting a little when his eyes widen in realization.
It’s the same chocolate chip cookies I gave him back then. Back before we loved each other, back before my entire life had changed. But it’s more than that. With the bus on its way to a new life, this tiny packet is a reminder. A reminder of how much I will always love him.