Chapter 50 Jay
The ride home feels completely different. Everything looks brighter, more vivid. The trees are blazing with fall color, intense reds and yellows. The wind in my face is cool but not cold yet.
I can't stop thinking about them.
Caleb's face when the lawnmower roared to life, his eyes going huge with wonder that I was actually able to fix it.
Diana's hesitant voice as she timidly showed me her math homework, the way she trusted me enough to admit she was struggling.
Destiny's sassy confidence that she'd be the first person to live on Mars.
Rosalyn's southern cooking that reminded me I was in a home even though I've never had one of my own.
Ivan has a great family now.
Family.
The word keeps echoing in my head, taking up all the space.
I've never had one. Not a real one. Not one that counted.
Foster homes didn't count. Those were just places I stayed temporarily with people who got paid to tolerate my presence until they didn't want to anymore or until I aged out or got moved.
The closest I ever came to family was Ivan, huddled together in Henderson's barn, two broken kids pretending we could protect each other from the monsters. And even that got ripped away.
But today, sitting at that table with Rosalyn and the kids, watching Ivan laugh at Caleb's jokes and help Diana with fractions, I felt something I've never felt before in my entire life.
I felt like I belonged somewhere with other people.
Not temporarily or conditionally.
Maybe permanently.
The feeling is so foreign, so completely new, that I don't even know what to do with it.
It sits in my chest like something alive, something precious and terrifying all at once.
Because now that I've felt it, now that I know what it's like to sit at a family dinner table and be welcomed instead of tolerated, I can't unfeel it.
I can't go back to not knowing what I'm missing.
And that scares the shit out of me.
Because what if I lose it now? What if I screw it up the way I screw everything up? What if Rosalyn changes her mind about me? What if the kids stop liking me? What if Ivan realizes he made a mistake bringing me into their lives?
The fear is almost paralyzing, but underneath it is something stronger.
I'm probably too old to be wanting a family to love me, but I still do.
I want Sunday dinners at Rosalyn's table.
I want to teach Caleb how to change a tire someday, how to fix things with his hands.
I want to help Diana with her homework when she's stuck, watch her face light up when she finally understands.
I want to be there when Destiny figures out how to reach her goals and cheer her on.
I want Rosalyn to look at me one day the same way she looks at Ivan, with pride and love and the kind of unconditional acceptance I never thought existed.
I want to be part of them.
It's almost dark by the time I pull into the Vista Inn parking lot. I probably pushed it too close—riding in the dark isn't smart, the visibility is terrible—but I couldn't make myself leave earlier.
I take the stairs two at a time, my legs shaky from hours of riding. I fumble with my key, my hands still cold from the wind, and barely get the door closed before I'm pulling out my phone.
Ivan answers on the first ring.
"You made it," he says in relief. "I was starting to worry. It's already dark out."
"I made it. I shouldn't have cut it so close, I know. But I made it safe." I'm pacing the small room, too wired to sit still, too full of energy and emotion. "I can't stop thinking about today."
"Good thinking or bad thinking?"
"All good." I run my hand through my wind-tangled hair, trying desperately to find the words.
"The kids are something else. Caleb is incredible.
The way his whole face lights up when he talks about dinosaurs, like nothing else in the world matters.
And when he grabbed my hand to see the motorcycle, he didn't even hesitate.
He just took my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he wasn't afraid of me at all. He's fearless."
"He's like that with everyone he likes." Ivan laughs. "No filter, no holding back. What you see is what you get."
"And the twins. I know they were sizing me up at first, being cautious. But by the end they let me in. They didn't have to, but they seemed to accept me."
"They liked you. I told you they would."
"And Rosalyn." I stop pacing, standing in the middle of the dingy room. "She's amazing. The way she looks at all of you like she thinks you hung the moon. The way she checked me out while trying to decide whether I was good enough for you."
"What did you think of her verdict?"
"She didn't kick me out, so that's something. She didn't tell me to stay away from you." I let out a laugh. "I know this is going to sound crazy and maybe even childish, but I need to say it. I want what I felt today. I want to be part of your family."
"Are you sure? We're pure chaos most of the time."
"I'm absolutely sure. I want all of it. Everything.
" The words come tumbling out faster now.
"The family dinners and the birthday parties.
I want to help Rosalyn with things when Mitchell is on the road.
I want to be someone they can all count on.
Like you are. I didn't know families like yours existed for people like me. "
"Jay..."
"I spent my whole life thinking family was something other people had.
Something I wasn't meant for. And then when I was sitting at that table today and the kids were talking over each other trying to ask me questions, I realized this is what I've been missing.
I want to be someone's family. Not just yours.
I want to be part of all of it. I want those kids to think of me as their big brother, too.
I'll do anything I need to do to deserve it. "
"You already deserve it. I keep telling you that."
"I'm done with taking baby steps," I say.
"I know we made a plan, and the plan was smart and reasonable and the right thing to do.
And I'm not saying we should throw it all out completely.
But I don't want to wait a year. I don't want to spend another six months alone in this motel room, hours away from all of you. "
"What are you saying?"
"I'm all in. Completely, totally, all in.
I'm ready to move faster, to push harder.
" I sit down on the edge of the bed, my heart racing.
"I'll start winding things down here immediately.
Give Mick two weeks' notice, tell Betty I'm leaving.
I'll find AA meetings in Atlanta. I'll get everything organized.
And the second you have a place and you're ready, I'm there.
I'm packing everything I own and I'm coming to you. "
Ivan goes dead quiet, and I feel a spike of fear shoot through me. Maybe I'm pushing too hard, too fast. Maybe he's not ready for this yet and I've overstepped. Maybe I've misread everything and he wanted to take it slower and I've just ruined it all.
Again.
"I've already been looking at apartments," he says finally.
"What?" I wasn't expecting that.
"For the past two weeks. Every single day after work, I've been scrolling through listings online, driving by places on my lunch break.
" He pauses. "There's one I keep coming back to.
I've driven by it maybe five times now. It's only about five minutes from Rosalyn's house, in a quiet complex near a park.
Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a little balcony.
Nothing fancy, nothing special. But it's clean and the rent is reasonable and it feels right. "
"You've been looking for two weeks and you didn't tell me?"
"Are you mad?"
"Hell no! I'm not mad. I'm happy about it."
"I didn't want to pressure you," Ivan says. "I know we said we'd take it slow, give you time to pull yourself together. And I didn't want you to feel like I was rushing you before you were ready."
I'm laughing now, half-disbelieving, shaking my head. "Do you have an address of the complex? Or anything I can see?"
"I have pictures on my phone. A lot of pictures. I can send them to you right now."
"Send all of them. I want to see everything."
My phone buzzes a moment later with a flood of images.
I put Ivan on speaker and scroll through them slowly, taking in every detail.
A small living room with big windows that let in tons of light.
A galley kitchen with white cabinets and old appliances.
A bedroom that's big enough for a queen bed and has good natural light.
A second bedroom that could be an office, or storage, or whatever we need it to be.
It's not much. It's tiny and plain and probably has thin walls and noisy neighbors and a dozen little problems we haven't discovered yet.
It's absolutely perfect.
"When can you sign the lease?" I ask.
"I was planning to go by this week. The landlord said they're doing showings all week and applications are already being processed."
"Let's do it. I'm ready."
"Are you absolutely sure about this? A few hours ago, you were terrified to meet my family. Now you want to move in together?"
"I didn't understand what I was missing.
" I look around the motel room. At the sagging bed that's never been comfortable, at the thin walls that have heard me cry and scream and beg for help.
"I've been surviving in this room for years.
Surviving isn't living. I'm done just surviving.
I want to live with you. I want to wake up next to you every morning instead of just on weekends.
I want to come home to you at night. I want us to have a place that's ours. I want us to have a life."
"I want that too. God, Jay. I feel like I've wanted this my whole life."
"Then let's do it. Let's stop waiting for the perfect time and just do it."
"Okay." I can hear him smiling through the phone, hear the joy breaking through. "Okay, yes, let's do it. Let's really do this."
We talk for another two hours, making concrete plans instead of vague future ideas.
Ivan will sign the lease this week and start moving his stuff from Rosalyn's house.
I'll give Mick two weeks' notice tomorrow or more if he needs it.
He deserves that much after everything he's done for me.
I'll tell Betty the same, give her time to find someone else for the late shift.
I'll find an AA meeting near the apartment before I even leave Macon.
I'm not going to start skipping meetings just because I'm excited about the move.
"Any idea about a new job?" Ivan asks.
"I've actually been doing some research," I admit, feeling shy about it.
"There are a lot of motorcycle shops in the Atlanta area.
Custom builders, restoration specialists, dealerships that need experienced mechanics.
I've been looking at listings online for weeks, checking out their websites, seeing what kind of work they do. "
"You have? You didn't tell me that."
"I didn't want to say anything until I knew I could actually do it.
But there's this one shop about twenty minutes from where you live.
They specialize in vintage bikes—Triumphs, Harleys, classic Indians.
The kind of stuff I love working on, the bikes that have history and character.
They had a help wanted banner on their website last week.
I don't know if the position is still there, but it got me thinking.
It made me believe this could actually be possible. "
"That's perfect. That's exactly the kind of work you're meant to do, the work you're good at."
"Mick taught me a lot, and I'll always be grateful.
But there's more I could learn at a bigger shop with more variety.
More challenging builds, more techniques.
And if I can get my foot in the door somewhere legitimate, somewhere with a real paycheck and actual benefits.
.." I trail off, almost afraid to say it out loud because saying it makes it real.
"Then you'd have a career," Ivan finishes for me. "Not just a job. A real career."
"Yeah. I've never had that before. Something I could build on, something with a future. Something that could actually go somewhere instead of just keeping me in an extended stay motel."
By the time we finally hang up, it's almost one in the morning. I should be exhausted. I drove for hours today, met my entire new family, and made a life-changing decision. But I'm wide awake, buzzing with something I barely recognize anymore.
Hope.
Real, solid hope.
Not the fragile, desperate kind that disappears the moment things get hard. The kind built on a foundation of concrete plans and actual promises and people who show up when they say they will.
In a few weeks, I'll have a completely different life.
A life with Ivan.