4. Diego #3
Diego imagined a younger version of Wylie at his mother’s bedside, clutching her hand and praying she’d come back to him, making all sorts of desperate promises, only to lose her in the end.
It was a different kind of loss than what Diego had experienced.
Diego’s trouble had been self-inflicted, and he’d pretty much deserved what he got.
Wylie’s was a tragedy that had been thrust upon him at a young age, further proof that there was no kind of cosmic justice at play in this world.
“I’m her only kid, so I had to be the one to decide,” Wylie said. “She wouldn’t have wanted to go on like that. She was a nurse. She’d told me how awful it is for the patients when the families can’t let go. So, I had to do it. Just…let her go.”
This story just got worse and worse. “Jesus, man, what about your dad?” Diego asked, suspecting he knew the answer already.
“He took off when I was a baby. Lives somewhere out west with a new family, or so I heard a while back. Haven’t really been in touch with him since I was little.”
Diego’s own dad was a deadbeat too, never paid any kind of child support or visited him as a kid, even though he’d lived locally for most of his life.
His dad had been in and out of prison for robbery and theft and other bad shit.
His family kept tabs on the man and gave Diego regular updates, even though he’d rather they didn’t.
Diego was determined not to follow in his old man’s footsteps, despite what his mother might think.
“My dad’s no good either,” he said and left it at that.
“Twins,” Wylie said humorlessly.
“So, what happened next?” Diego wondered how Wylie had been able to overcome so much. “How’d you end up graduating high school and getting a college diploma and scoring in the top ten percent on the LSAT?”
Wylie grinned. “You remembered.”
“Of course, I did. It’s impressive.” Especially with all the bullshit Wylie had had to endure. Diego should probably be taking notes.
“My English teacher, Nancy, she took me in and gave me a place to stay.” Wylie nodded his head intently. “She’s like, my rock.”
“Mrs. Miller?” Diego asked, having a memory of his former English teacher, a sharp-tongued lady who chain-smoked during her lunch hour and planning periods at the nearby Wendy’s and dispensed advice to whomever she caught skipping school, which had often included Diego and his friends.
“Yeah, she hooked me up with a therapist, an old friend of hers named Bob Winchester, Dr. Bob. I still see him, even though he’s retired now.
He’s one of my neighbors. Nancy owns a trailer park over on Indian Rocks Beach called Sunset Village, but she only allows her friends to live there, so it’s like this really chill retirement community.
For me, it’s like having a shit-ton of grandmas and grandpas. ”
“Sounds like a sweet set-up,” Diego said, trying to imagine it.
“Really is. The baked goodies and casseroles are ridiculous.”
Diego smiled at the thought of it, glad the young man was being cared for and had a community to support him.
Silence fell over the cab, but it wasn’t awkward.
Wylie vaped and Diego directed him where to turn off.
He appreciated that Wylie didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with idle chatter.
He was different from what Diego had initially thought–wiser and more mature, in addition to being a sexy smartass.
They turned into the parking lot of his building, which was just two sad rows of one-bedroom apartments stacked on top of each other with the constant noise of traffic in the background, even this late at night.
No trees, only weeds growing through the cracks in the asphalt.
There were a couple single moms living there with their kids and an ex-Marine with PTSD whom Frank had known back in the day.
All charity cases like himself, no doubt.
Still, it was better than the sounds of men crying or jerking off in Cell Block 4 at PCI. Diego’s apartment was clean and functional, and most importantly, private. He was grateful for it.
“Thanks for the ride.” Diego grabbed his hat from his lap and stuck it on his head, pulling the brim low.
He should say something more significant, but he’d never been very good at expressing himself–part of his problem.
He cleared his throat, feeling incredibly awkward about it.
“And thanks for, uh, handling that back there.”
“No problem. You want me to tell Cody to stop coming around?” Wylie offered like he’d do it just to make Diego more comfortable.
“Nah, he looks like he could use a free meal. Frank’s cool with it?”
Wylie shrugged and didn’t confirm or deny it. “I only give him the stuff we probably wouldn’t sell. I feel bad for the guy. He’s always trying to suck my dick, and I keep having to let him down gently.”
Diego chuckled again. Twice in one night must be some kind of record. “Holding onto your virtue?”
Wylie’s smile had just the right amount of cockiness, blue eyes twinkling. “Saving myself for someone special.”
Diego was stunned again at how bold the young man was, and how flirtatious. He probably had several prospects, though. Some people just liked the chase.
“See you tomorrow?” Wylie asked, offering him a friendly fist-bump.
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
Nothing had changed, not really, but as Diego mounted the steps to his sad, empty apartment, for a few minutes he felt just a little bit lighter. A little less alone.