Chapter 25. #2
“When granddad was alive,” I tell them, “he gave me this, and he said …” I squirm.
“I’m probably going to mess up his words.
It was kind of a metaphor thing. But he talked a lot about having so many dreams of his own that he never got to see.
He always said he’ll do it later. Do it next time.
Then he ran out of time.” I smile at the wristwatch fondly.
“He told me … and, um, I’m quoting here …
‘You’d better learn how to get up off that bony ass someday, boy, and make the most outta the little time you got, ‘cause you’re still a young chicken, and that world is mighty, mighty big, so don’t go closin’ your eyes for the last time before you’ve seen it all. ’”
It’s a mistake to look up at my dad’s eyes.
Because they’re full of tears suddenly.
Dripping down his cheeks.
You’d think I was a child again wearing some cheaply-made dragon costume mumbling through the two lines I had.
“So here I am,” I say, lowering my wrist. “My way of honoring my granddad … and myself … to see more of the world before I choose what to do with my life. Whether I finish out school or not. Return here to take over the business when it’s time.
Or pursue a career in doodles. Or become a wedding DJ in Iceland.
Or live in a truck making sourdough. Or …
something else entirely. I need to experience everything this life of mine has to offer. ”
My parents haven’t let go of each other’s hands.
They’re both fighting back tears.
Too soon to say if they’re tears of joy or anguish just yet.
I give Austin’s hand a squeeze, then let out the rest: “So that’s why I plan to leave with Austin and go on tour with him.”
My mom’s eyes flash open.
Dad’s, too.
Maybe I gave them a tad too much credit and no one, in fact, guessed the twist ending of my story ahead of time.
This is when the explosion comes.
And maybe the real reason I dragged Austin into this with me.
With him here, maybe I’ll just get part of the explosion.
Or a watered-down version. My dad will intensely ask me who else he can possibly hand the business down to after retirement.
My mom will cry about this house being empty forever.
I will be the reason everyone is left unhappy, our legacy falling to pieces, all because of my selfish desire to exist.
My mom’s hand on my leg catches me by surprise.
And silences the fears.
“Are you sure?” she gently asks me.
I stare at her, as if not hearing the question at first.
Am I sure?
I have an option to not be sure?
“Because if you are,” she goes on, “then I suppose we … need to start thinking about what that’s gonna look like. And how your dad and I …” She glances at him, then back at me. “… can best support you moving forward.”
I blink.
This isn’t an explosion. I don’t know what the hell this is. It’s almost scarier, the understanding in her voice, like they knew.
“We’re surprised,” says my dad, chiming in, still holding one of Mom’s hands. “Of course we are.”
“This isn’t a small choice,” Mom picks up. “It’s a big deal. And of course it matters. This is your future we’re talking about.”
“And ours, in a way,” agrees Dad.
“But we want to support you no matter what.”
“No matter what.”
I’m at such a loss, I nearly let go of Austin’s hand, forgetting that I’m holding it. “That’s it?” I blurt. “You’re not furious?”
“You think we never noticed?” my mom goes on, then lets on the slightest smile.
“All of these summers you’d come home from school …
already halfway gone again. We’ve been watching you try to fit into a life that …
didn’t quite seem to fit you, dear. Would you grow into it?
Would you never? … We didn’t know.” She tilts her head as a tear that’s been sitting there lets loose.
“We were giving you time, sweetheart. All the time you needed.”
I wipe at something tickling the top of my cheek.
I realize belatedly it’s a tear of my own. “Mom … Dad …”
“I didn’t raise my son to live someone else’s life,” she says, then leans in even closer. “I raised you to decide for yourself. And if you’ve got to … chase Chase to find it—excuse the silly pun—I think you owe it to yourself to do it.”
“And to your granddad,” says my father with a wistful smile, his eyes on my wristwatch.
Something lets go in the room.
Something that was so tight, I couldn’t breathe.
Now there’s all the breath in the room. All the air. Possibility. Freedom. Understanding. Harmony.
The next moment, I’m to my feet. Mom and Dad, too.
Then I’m caught in a hug between both of them, sandwiched by my parents, and I’ve never more appreciated their smothering love than I do right now when I need it most. I feel my mom wag her hand, and then there’s a fourth body with his arms wrapped around us all.
This isn’t the end of my story. It’s not an ending at all. It feels like standing at the edge of something I can’t quite see yet, with no idea where it’s going to take me—and not being afraid for once.
Because I know I’m not doing it alone.
When we finally untangle from the hug, my mom hangs on.
“I’m gonna need a minute, babe,” she says, suddenly laughing through her tears. “Or ten or twenty. Or the whole damned day.”
“Come here, honey,” says my father, taking over—and gently releasing her iron-tight grip on my arm. Which is great, because I was losing circulation. “Let’s get some coffee in you. You still look hung over.”
“I don’t hang over, I just droop, and I don’t need coffee, I need liquor.
” She swats my arm and then snaps her fingers at Austin.
“I require both of you to drink with me today, because I am not done partying with my wonderful son. Oh, and you had to go and do this on Independence Day,” she suddenly realizes.
I wonder from her slightly elevated pitch if she isn’t still a little tipsy from last night.
“It’s now my son’s independence day, too, claimin’ your own independence from Queen Cissy. ”
My dad is holding back laughter. “Let’s go, honey. Give the boys a minute. Afternoon alcohol awaits.” He winks at each of us, his eyes lingering on me a touch longer, before my parents are out of the room. My mom’s still talking, whether it’s to me or Dad or Austin, I have no idea.
But now it’s just us.
Me and my still-shaking hands.
Austin and his odd expression as he stares expectantly at me.
That’s when it hits me.
“Oh. I …” I cover my mouth for half a second, then drop my hand. “I didn’t even … I didn’t even think to …”
“Were you plannin’ on cluing me in to your big see-the-world plans?” he teases, coming closer.
“I didn’t even ask if it was okay!”
“Is that what you want to ask me?”
“How presumptuous of me! To just … invite myself into your tour like that!” I cover my face, humiliated, unable to look at him. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not.”
“Just forget any of that happened.”
“No way.”
I drop my hands. “I mean, we made that joke by the pool …”
He wrinkles his face. “What joke?”
“Then again when we were talking to Jimmy and Bobby …”
“We said what?”
“And then when we were having sex the night of the concert, you kept talking about me being by your side all the time …”
“I did? Oh, I did.”
“And the thing about me being your department head of, uh, something …”
“That job doesn’t exist.”
“And somewhere between all the joking and the talking … I … I guess it sorta stuck in my head … the idea of leaving this behind and going with you … being by your side …”
He takes me into his arms, bringing me back to my safe space, my protective bubble, where all I know is his face in front of mine, his bright eyes, his sexy smile.
“You’d leave this all behind?” he asks.
I nod. Then I hesitate. “I mean … for now.”
“And you’d hit the road with me?”
“Y-Yeah.”
“It isn’t a pretty ride sometimes, y’know,” he goes on. “Nights spent sleepin’ on the bus … or in a hit-and-miss decent or not-so-decent hotel …”
“Sell the dream a bit more, why don’t you?” I tease.
“I’m just sayin’, it ain’t the glamorous life it’s made out to be.
Tourin’ is tough. Sometimes tedious. Or boring.
Tons of time spent just sittin’ around waitin’.
” He smirks. “And then there’s Wily and his occasional pranks.
Fiona will probably big-sis you every day—it’s clear she’s taken a liking to you.
And Raj? That guy can eat. You wouldn’t know it from his size, but boy, he can put down a whole turkey if you let him. And then there’s—”
I shut him right up with a kiss.
A soft kiss.
A meaningful one.
It’s a thank you. And a love you. And a celebration. All rolled up into one gentle rendezvous of my lips with his.
Then I say: “Guess I’d better start packing.”