Page 109 of Keepsakes and Kismet

The last time I was here, I’d just gotten my license a month before. I came to pick up Tyler, and before we could leave, Jeff lectured us for at least ten minutes about “no distractions, including the radio.”

The second we left the house, we popped in The Black Parade album and turned it all the way up. We felt so badass, like two rebels with the world at their feet. I haven’t listened to the album since, but as I pull up to a red light, I plug in my phone and turn it on.

The opening piano notes of “Welcome to the Black Parade” trill through the air. They awaken something in my soul, bringing the memory to life, and I have to check the passenger seat to confirm Ty isn’t sitting next to me singing along.

As Gerard Way sings about carrying on the legacy of a dead friend, I turn the volume as high as it can go without bursting my eardrums and start singing at the top of my lungs. The cold wind whips through my hair when I roll down the windows, and I feel so free.

“Maybe we should be My Chemical Romance for Halloween! Wear black marching band costumes or some shit!” Ty shouts over the speakers, the wind blowing his blond hair in front of his eyes.

“MCR has four members! We’re only two people! We’d look like dumbasses!” I yell back, doing my best to keep my eyes on the road.

Ty grins, the chip in his front tooth making an appearance. “So? We’ll go as Mikey and Gerard Way! They’re brothers! Just like us!”

The happiness I felt in that moment wraps around me. The feeling squeezes my chest in a welcome embrace, instead of the usual vice grip, until I reach the Sheldons’.

Bolstered by the positive emotions coursing through me, I walk straight up to their front door and ring the bell. A few moments pass in silence while I wait for someone to answer. If they’re not home, it doesn’t change my plan to see them again. I’ll just stop by a different time.

Another minute passes, and I decide to call it. But just as I swivel around, I hear the front door thud open.

“…Cal?” The motherly voice is familiar, but older. Weathered, but I can hear the notes of joy that used to lace every word back when we spoke. Back when this was my second home.

I slowly turn, and I’m met with a bewildered Tammy. Her blonde hair has grayed, and there’s a few new smile lines that weren’t there before. Tears well in her blue eyes, and her hand covers her mouth in shock.

“Is it really you?” she whispers behind her hand, completely still.

I nod slowly.

She opens her arms.

And I crash into them.

My heart leaps from my chest and maybe into hers as we embrace. Seeing her again is like starring in a live-action remake of my own childhood home movie. Chaotic, emotional, bizarre, wonderful. Neither of us say anything, letting the hug speak for itself. My shirt gets damp when she turns her face to the side, the fabric soaking up her tears.

The sound of tires screeching causes us to split apart. Tammy inhales sharply, and I turn to find Jeff parking haphazardly in the driveway. He doesn’t make it in the garage. No, he puts the car into park diagonally and sprints toward us, leaving the driver’s door wide open.

Ty always looked exactly like his dad, and seeing his blue eyes up close again knocks the breath right out of me.

“Son. You’re here,” he says on a sob, clapping me on the back.

Tammy and Jeff wipe the tears dripping off their chins, but I’m not crying. All of my fears surrounding this moment evaporated as soon as I fell into Tammy’s arms.

Tammy pulls away first, visibly shivering. “Let’s go inside, it’s positively arctic out here. I’ll put the soup on.”

Jeff keeps his arm around my shoulders, and we walk side-by-side through the foyer. When we reach the table, he squeezes my neck with one hand and punches me in the shoulder with the other. “You’re taller than me now, big guy.”

I smooth a finger over my upper lip. “And you finally went with the mustache.”

Tammy removes the lid from a plastic tupperware of frozen soup. “I’ve been telling him it’s unbecoming, but he said he’s keeping it because Tyler would like it.”

All three of us go completely still at his name. We blink at each other in silence.

“Tyler would think it looks like shit, Jeff,” I say.

The burst of laughter that echoes through the kitchen comes accompanied by a wave of nostalgia from doing this exact same thing throughout my childhood.

When the howls peter out into chuckles, Tammy dumps the soup into a pot with a loud thud and turns on the stove. “Should only be about fifteen minutes. Let’s go relax in the family room while we wait.”

Tammy and Jeff sit on the loveseat, and I sink in the recliner opposite them. They’re holding hands, the white of Tammy’s knuckles noticeable where she’s tightly gripping Jeff. I wonder how they’re feeling. I want to ask, but there’s something I have to do first.