Chapter 81
Tyler
“Tyler? What’s going on? Is everything all right?”
I had, somehow, made my way to Fowler Street, pacing in place where the main road turned into gravel—turned into Meredith’s
private drive. I’d called Arthur a dozen times, maybe more. I hated having to bother him. This was his final weekend in California.
But I didn’t know where else to turn. I didn’t have a father. I didn’t have Mikey’s father. I didn’t have a single other soul
on this planet who still saw the best in me. Not anymore, anyway. Not after today.
Maybe that was why I called.
Maybe I was hoping he would co-sign my shit.
“What the fuck,” he said, “were you thinking?”
I could hear, in the background, the sound of laughter. The sound of chatter—of tomorrow being planned or a card game being
played. I closed my eyes and pictured the scene: Arthur and Rachel and their daughter and their grandchildren, together, finally.
Arthur, having done the work. Having waited for this, without expectation, and with a smile on his face.
“I just kept thinking,” I said, “I could turn back time.”