Chapter 71
The next morning, I drag Felix over to Roland's house in my van. We're going to face this once and for all. Maybe it won't work out in our favor, but it's on me to at least try.
I take a deep breath and walk up the steps to Roland's house, firmly pressing my index finger into the doorbell. Felix stays five feet behind me, looking even more nervous.
Mr. Greenway opens the door.
“I know you don't want me here, but—” I begin to say.
“He's gone.” He interrupts me and leaves me hanging.
“Where?” I ask.
“I woke up and he wasn't in the house. His mom had to cancel her meeting, so we're running around town trying to find him.”
“Do you think he wants to hurt himself?” Felix asks.
“I don't know what his intentions are. Most likely to punish us, as if we haven't been punished enough.”
He has this look on his face like he's numb to this, like it's such an inconvenience to be stuck with a son who needs his parents to love him for who he is.
“Maybe you deserve it. Maybe you should sit down and think about what kind of parents you are before you cry that y'all had to cancel a meeting because your son is missing.
When you found out I was the person who hurt Roland, all y'all could think about was how it affected you instead of him.” I'm lecturing this man at such a volume that the men mowing the lawn across the street turn to watch.
He holds his palm to my face. “I don't need this right now. I told you to stop coming here.”
“I'm sorry about what happened to your first son. Roland made a mistake that ruined his future, but maybe if you and Mick had reacted less cruelly when you found out about Roland's secret, he might not have made that mistake.”
He starts to close the door, but I shove it back open.
“My parents died when I was eleven. I couldn't see them one last time.
They didn't even get a proper burial. I miss them every day.
I would give anything to have them back.
Maybe you should think about what that feels like and how you're wasting an opportunity to love the one son you have left.
Then tell me what it's like to be punished.”
His face doesn't change, but I can see in his eyes that he takes my story seriously. “Okay. You've said your piece. Let me go find my son, okay?” And he shuts the door.
“God, I hope you go to UT with him,” I tell Felix as we get back into the van. “He can't stay home with those psychos.”
We drive around town for thirty minutes, thinking of places Roland could be.
“His brother's grave,” I think out loud, then speed off to the cemetery.
I park hastily in front of the entrance, and Felix and I split up to search the cemetery for him. He's not at his brother's grave, but I spot the tracks of his wheelchair leading into a cluster of oak trees. I follow them, and there he is, sitting by a thick trunk.
He sees me and panics. “No, no, no. Get the fuck away from me.”
“This is your chance to give me one good punch in the face,” I say to him. “I won't blame you if you take it. It won't be the first time this year.”
Roland turns his head as far away as he can, avoiding my eyes.
“I yelled at your dad. It felt good. You should do it more often.”
He bends down and reaches for whatever tiny rocks and sticks he can grab, pelting me viciously.
“Ow! Good! I deserve it! Throw as much as you want!”
“It's not funny, you creep.”
“Roland,” I plead as I step closer to him, “you didn't know your brother would die after what you did.
Just like we didn't know you would get hit by a car.
I'm not saying we're not guilty, but we can't go back and change it.
I hope you can forgive Felix, because if you can do that, then you can forgive yourself.
Even if your parents won't. You don't need to forgive me, but Felix is the best person I've ever known. Seeing him like this is torture.”
He looks at me skeptically. “Aren't you in love with him?”
“That doesn't mean we're meant to be together. You and him, however…”
“What does that matter when I'm stuck like this? Eventually he's going to get sick of it,” he says.
“He's not that type of person.”
“You said he was. That he would move on quickly.”
“I said that because I was jealous. I'm a messed-up person. Even then, Felix has stood by me all these years without abandoning me.”
“I came here to see my brother one last time. And then go somewhere. I don't know where. Anywhere but here.”
“How far did you think you were going to get?” I ask, unable to resist laughing.
Roland starts to laugh, too. “I don't know what I was thinking. Of course there's a storm on the day I'm running away.”
Thunder bellows above us. Shit. Of course.
“You know Felix was going to run away, too, right? Why don't you both run away together?” I say.
“He probably doesn't want to see me after the way I've ignored him.”
Some footsteps behind me. It's Felix, followed by a stranger wearing all black. The man's got a long, thin comb-over gelled over part of his forehead. He looks kind of like Hitler, and has the same stern eyes and pursed lips.
“Oh,” Felix says as soon as he spots Roland. There's an awkward energy as they stare at each other.
The man points at me. “You're the idiot with the van? You blocked the entrance and we're trying to get a casket through. There's a funeral waiting!”
I want to keep talking to Roland, but I've lost my concentration. The thunder rumbles. I'm scared that Felix and Roland are going to get into a fight. Roland is stuck here and I have to get him out. The guy yells at me again, and it's distorted by a ringing in my ears.
Thunder rumbles again.
The guy keeps yelling at me.
My mind is swirling. I feel like I'm being slowly shoved toward the edge of a cliff. “Get off my dick, motherfucker!” I scream at him with a flavor of insanity that pushes my eyeballs in different directions.
Felix sticks his hand out. “Wade, give me the keys, and I'll go move it.”
He takes off with the keys, but the angry man still stands there as rain begins to sprinkle around us. The same kind of sprinkles that woke me up in the tree that Christmas Eve.
“Let's get out of here,” I say, starting to feel dizzy.
“Please. Just leave me here.”
“Look, we can sit here in the rain with this guy and his Hitler hair, or we can go back to my van and dry up.”
Roland gestures to his wheels stuck in dirt. “I can't.”
A flash of lightning pulses nearby, followed by another crack of thunder.
Hitler Guy runs off back to his funeral.
My knees wobble, but I still pick Roland up with both my arms and carry him over my shoulder, the same way Felix carried me when we crashed the wife-carrying contest. I don't know if I can get him to the van in the storm.
My knees start to buckle every time it thunders.
The funeral guests over by the open grave gawk at me in their black suits and dresses, confused by the sight of me carrying Roland. I suddenly remember the black-cloaked Grim Reaper in The Seventh Seal dancing with those people.
Dance with death. Accept the chaos. Don't let it control you.
I think of Francois shouting, “Dance, monkey, dance!” at me. I think of Arachnodesiac doing his little war dance.
I survived his bite. I survived an EF5 tornado. I survived my aunt Dinah. What am I really afraid of? Why should I be afraid of anything?
I start to jog like I'm running with the Grim Reaper. I giggle like a maniac. The funeralgoers continue to watch me with confused displeasure.
Once we get to the van, I slide open the side door and Felix helps me pull Roland up on the side seats. Felix turns the heat on so we don't freeze to death from the air conditioning.
We sit in silence and listen to the rain. I want to continue the conversation I was having with Roland, but I'm afraid that shattering the silence will kill the peace.
“Give me your shirt,” Felix eventually says to Roland, taking off his own shirt, his sculpted chest muscles smooth and untarnished by the rain.
Roland looks apprehensive at first, but he pulls it off. Felix tosses it to the side and slides his dry shirt over Roland.
“Roland, I swear, it doesn't get more romantic than that,” I say. This is some Jane Austen shit going on right here in my crusty old van.
Neither of them look at me. They stare at each other until Felix touches Roland's cheek, then Roland pulls him closer and they hug. Their lips don't take long to find each other. They go at it with abandon, as if I'm not watching.
I feel like I shouldn't be here in this moment, but I'm glad it's happening. This is the best possible thing I could have asked for.
“I don't know about y'all, but I am craving some french fries from Whataburger. I'm going to run across the street and get some. You guys want anything? Nope,” I say for them, and I run through the rain to Whataburger.
I order my fries with spicy ketchup and stay there for thirty minutes, giving both of them whatever time they need while I watch the rain. I've spent all these years afraid of it, but right here, right now, it's the most beautiful storm I've ever seen. And I don't even feel like playing Tetris.