14. Goodbye
Goodbye
Terrified, Gus guided the wounded Bridger to a roadside bench a block away. Bridger sucked air through his clenched teeth as he was carefully set down on the weather-worn seat. He groaned and dropped his head into his hands, overwhelmed. Gus set their boards beside the curb.
Tears welled in Bridger’s eyes. He struggled to fight them back. “Why did you do that?!”
“Why did I—what do you mean why?” Gus watched the back of Bridger’s drooping head, unable to look away from the bloody mess of him. “I saved you.”
“This saved nothing!” Bridger yelled, looking up with wet eyes. His already swollen jaw wobbled. “Max saw us!”
“Saw us?” Gus questioned.
“On the roof, Gus. On the roof!” Bridger hissed back.
Gus cursed under his breath.
Bridger wiped his bloody nose as he growled in anguish and frustration. His every exhale was heavy with fear, regret, and pain.
Gus reached for him.
Bridger recoiled. “Get away from me!”
Gus bit the inside of his cheek, then shook his head. “No, Bridger. We need to leave,” Gus insisted. “Now.”
“Where the fuck am I going to go, Gus?!” Bridger snapped. “Max is gonna tell everyone!”
Gus sat down next to his friend. Bridger scooted away, his built-up tears streaming free.
“Fuck. My parents are gonna find out!” Bridger slammed his own thigh.
“It’s okay,” Gus tried to calm him down. “We’ll figure something—”
“This was all a fuckin’ mistake!” Bridger burst out, cutting him off.
Gus’s train of thought sped away as his stomach sank.
The boys sat in silence. The booming party music from down the street reverberated as if the house were a trashy club.
“Everything?” Gus slowly asked. “Everything was a mistake?”
Bridger kept his chin down. Gus leaned in, moving his face to try and catch Bridger’s eyes for any possible reassurance, but Bridger avoided his gaze.
“Do you mean me, too?”
“Yeah, Gus. All of it,” Bridger said to the ground. “I’m sorry.”
“C’mon,” Gus pressed, trying to keep his voice light despite his constricting throat and heaving chest. “You don’t mean that.”
Bridger couldn’t bear to even shift in Gus’s direction. Irritated, he shook a head full of doubts.
“I’m not like you,” Bridger said softly, still staring at the dirty street. “All This? Here? This is my life, Gus.”
Finally, Bridger lifted his chin, regarding Gus with puffy eyes. His nose dripped blood and snot.
“This is all easier for you,” Bridger said. “You only just got here, and you’re leaving soon. But me? I’ll always be stuck with these people. In this town.” Bridger waved an arm in front of him. “And now everything is ruined. I can never skate with the guys again.”
“But… skating isn’t everything,” Gus tried his best to comfort.
Bridger’s mouth fell open. Gus’s jumbled encouragement had him confused. Disgusted, even. He couldn’t shake the thought that maybe this boy didn’t even know him at all.
“What?! I’ll have no one, Gus! Or don’t you realize that?” Bridger wailed. “Without Max, without skating… who even am I?”
“I didn’t mean—I’m sorry. Keep skating.” Gus thrust a hand back toward the party. “But that’s not all you have. Just ignore Max. Who cares what he thinks?”
“Everybody!” Bridger replied, his voice strained. “Everybody cares what he thinks!.”
“Not forever,” Gus said, trying to level his tone. “That won’t last. He’s twenty-three but still hangs out with teenagers. If you leave Livingston, he’s nothing to you. There’s so much more you can do away from here.”
Bridger shook his head, fully drained. Gus wasn’t getting it. Maybe he never would.
“Gus.” Bridger tried to push severity into his words as he locked pained eyes with him. “I’m. Not. Like. You. I don’t think I’ll ever get out of this town.”
The air felt cold and damp. Gus’s own tears slipped down his clammy cheeks.
Is that what he really means? Why he wants us to be over? Because we’re too different?
“You might…” Gus offered hopelessly. “One day.”
Still, Bridger’s shoulders fell even more. He sighed and shook his head. He said nothing else.
“Even if you never leave,” Gus pushed on, “what I really meant was… skating isn’t all you’ve got. You’re great at other stuff, too.”
“Psh. Like what?”
Gus scoffed back with a tearful smirk. “You’re kidding.”
“What?” Bridger broke from his depressed tone.
“Okay. For starters, do you even remember the bonfire? How much people love your stories? Bridger, they can listen to you talk, just talk, for hours.”
“So? That doesn’t matter,” Bridger dismissed.
“Yes, it does!”
Bridger squinted, tilted his face, and turned back up to Gus.
“Also, convincing my dad to sell the boards? That was your idea. The flyers? Your idea. I never would’ve thought of those things,” Gus pointed out. “You’re charming. Confident. You make things happen!”
Bridger wiped some tears away. Gus leaned in.
“You once told me that you don’t want to think about the future,” Gus said slowly. “That you only want to focus on this summer, on right now.”
“Was I drunk?” Bridger half-joked, and rubbed his aching ribs.
Gus didn’t laugh. He stared deep into Bridger’s gaze.
“All the small moments you love so much won’t last very long,” Gus admitted gently, thinking about his mother. “But that means neither will these bad ones. Eventually, no one’s gonna even remember tonight. Things have to get better.”
“I don’t… want things to end,” Bridger confessed. He’d straightened up some. Loosened.
“I know. But… we can’t stop it. Right now can’t last forever. You showed me life goes by so fast. And that’s a good thing. A great thing!” Gus reassured him. “The rush… it’s worth some falls.”
Bridger shook his head with a chuckle. “I’m not ready for all this grown-up shit,” he jested.
Gus laughed. “Same.” He reached warmly for Bridger’s shoulder. “But at least we’re not alone… right?”
Bridger hesitated. He looked at Gus’s face, at how serious he seemed about this. At how much he seemed to care. Recognizing that someone knew him… it felt good. He didn’t want to lose it.
Bridger accepted Gus’s gentle touch.
“You are not a mistake.” Bridger straightened up. His eyes were still watery, but the resolve in them was growing firm. “I take it back. The truth is… I need you. Especially now. My life’s about to be shit.”
Gus melted. “I need you, too.” He rubbed Bridger’s back. “The real you, as you are. That’s enough.”
Bridger nodded with a painful grimace.
“Thanks, Gus,” he said softly.
“We’ll get through this.” Gus promised him.
Nodding, Bridger wrapped Gus in a deep hug. And Gus inhaled the comforting relief of being back in Bridger’s embrace where he belonged.
The boys squeezed each other tight on the wooden bench under the warm yellow street light. They both turned to face each other and softly, slowly, kissed the unease away.
When they parted, all was okay.
Before Gus could even wonder what they should do next, Bridger shot up from his seat.
“Follow me.”
“Why?” Gus chuckled when Bridger just smirked in response. “What are you up to?”
Bridger bent down to snag his skateboard and hopped on. He gave it a few test flips, nodded, then winked at Gus before speeding off down the dimly lit suburban road.
“Let’s go skate!” Bridger called back over his shoulder.
Gus shot up with excitement, grabbed his board, and followed behind his skater boy.
Max rolled awake in the party house’s backyard, disoriented and covered in torn-up grass and dirt. He put his hand to the back of his head in pain, confused by the blood that came away on his fingers.
“Ugh,” he groaned quietly, clutching his head.
Max inched to his feet. He spotted a half-empty red cup nearby and downed a messy swig.
Behind Max, Tara Shae stormed out from the back of the party house, tossed an unfinished beer in the trash, and rushed toward her car.
“Tara! Where ya going?” Max called out to her, “The party’s not over.”
Tara ignored him.
“You didn’t even say goodbye yet.” Max stumbled after her, tipsy, bloody, and sweaty.
Tara took a breath and turned around in the street to face Max.
“You were an asshole to everyone tonight,” Tara fumed, clearly annoyed. “Especially Gus and Bridger. I’m going home.”
“Who cares about those fucks?! It’s my birthday. Don’t leave yet,” Max insisted.
“What? Am I supposed to bake you a cake?” Tara shot back.
Max shrugged with a hiccup and a smugly flirtatious smile. “That’d be cute. Why not?”
“Because that’s not me at all, Max,” Tara stated seriously. “I’ve never been like that.”
Max rolled his eyes. Tara looked like she wanted to say more but stopped herself.
“C’mon, Tara. I know you. And you know me. So stay,” Max pleaded.
“No, you don’t know me,” Tara expressed, pain in her eyes. “You don’t, and you stopped caring a long time ago.”
Max looked perplexed. “Yeah, well I—”
“And I don’t understand you anymore either,” Tara added, gesturing to all of Max’s drunkard self in the street. “This isn’t the Max I used to know.”
“Tara…”
“You need to grow up.” She stood her ground. “We’re not kids anymore. Stop drinking and stop being so angry all the time. You are the one making everything harder on yourself.”
“Take me back, then.” Max softened. “Babe, everything can go back to the way it was. I miss you.”
“No. I don’t want to go back,” Tara replied incredulously. “I can’t do that.”
“Why? I can be better, I promise,” Max insisted.
“You’ve said that before.”
“I mean it this time. I—”
“Max, it can’t happen. And I don’t want…” Tara struggled to find the right words. “To say this here… like this…”
A sad silence drifted down between the two ex-lovers. Two distant, broken friends.
“Tara, I still love you. You’re the only real friend I’ve ever had,” Max confessed.
She looked up at him, saddened pity and regret in her eyes, and debated if she should reveal what she wanted to or just leave. In the end, she shook her head sadly. “I have to tell you something—”
Max lunged forward and kissed Tara forcefully.
Tara’s face exploded in shock as his lips clutched hers, and she quickly shoved him off. He almost fell over.
“Ugh! Friends don’t do that!” Tara exclaimed, exasperated.