Anger started to boil as I glared at the one who didn’t. Bother. To. Show. Up.
Styx rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.” He tossed me the bleach. “Clean up. Grab the money. We roll in ten.”
I was too angry to do as I was told and roared, “Why did you let me go into the system?”
The man got in my face, and I quickly forgot that I was capable of murder. That is how intense that man could be. “Because we needed to know your threat first.” He tried to reel in his rage by taking a step back. “My son died because of a connection to you.”
That stung. I didn’t want to be at fault for my father’s death. “So, you were his dad?”
He ran old, scarred hands through his longer hair. “Yeah.” He exhaled his regret. “You’re my grandson.”
That had been becoming quite clear, but hearing it confirmed helped clear all the confusion. It wasn’t my imagination taking off. I was simply seeing through the illusion for once.
He waved me off. “I know you have a million and one questions, but they have to wait. You now have eight minutes before we roll.”
I used every single one to grab clothes from the trunk, dress, and clean the mess I made in the toilet.
With a last walk-through, I said another round of silent goodbyes, then headed out the door. Styx was loading my bags and suitcase into the Jeep that was now out front. “This is your vehicle now.”
I appreciated that. Felt like a bit of Noma was going back home with me. “I want her ‘home’ too.”
“When it’s safe, I will make that happen.”
Fuck that.
“I’ll make that happen,” I snarled, daring him to argue.
Shaking his head, he said, “Just like your dad. Stubborn as fuck.”
I went to the tree and touched the carving that looked older now. My palm pressed briefly to the bark, and for a single heartbeat, I felt Noma with me. I’ll bring you back, I swear.
“That money is for Cali emergencies or for transferring her.”
I was okay with that, too. A part of me sensed I’d be back sooner rather than later.
Noma getting me to California felt like it took a week. With Styx, getting back to the East Coast, we didn’t stop for anything except for ditching his car in a lake in the middle of the night. There were no motel rooms or unwarranted stops. We each took turns driving while the other slept. Not much conversation took place. We ate, shit, and slept. Before I knew it, I was traveling over a bridge that replaced the one that exploded seven years ago, causing all the memories to come back, wanted or not. Bikes chasing us… Bullets flying… The sun not able to save me as I reached for it… The yellow skully I still had with me. The green eyes…
Out of the Jeep, Styx went to a door of the unfinished shopping center that was being renovated into Dad’s clubhouse and was unlocking it, but I didn’t follow him. I wasn’t ready to enter the next stage of my life. Mentally, I was still trying to collect all the pieces I felt I had lost, or hadn’t even known I’d had.
Plus, I had an impossible-to-deny pull happening inside me.
The night was thick, as was the seawater scent circling me, reminding me of past senses. The grass I crossed felt familiar, I had lain in it when dying so many years ago.
At the seawall, I dropped to my knees, and like the little boy I once was, I reached out… for her. My arm was longer. My hand’s scars long ago healed. My reflection one of a young man with a damaged soul.
Sadly, my friend—she wasn’t there. No beautiful eyes stared up at me from the water, yet there was a presence in the surface glistening in the moonlight. The pull inside me intensifying. Not even the raindrops that had begun could gain my full attention. That is, not until I wondered if the rain was from Noma. I stared at the moon’s reflection. Was it time to admit my imagination had won, after all?
Is that why I allowed Styx to bring me here? To officially say goodbye to my friend?
I had full-circled.
Coming back to the beginning, was it time I let my imagination go? Like all the lies I’d been told?
But… how?
Styx took a knee next to me. “Amazing how that water talks to you, isn’t it?”
Like a train barreling down its tracks, a roar filled my ears. My body went ice cold, yet was burning internally. So was my returning anger. “Does water speak to you, too, Grandpa?”
