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He sat down in front of me, out of breath, and removed his messenger bag. “Look, I’m just gonna come out and say it. I have two hundred bucks, I’m living in my truck, and…”
I swallowed hard, and Roe and Sandra turned toward their family and friends, ready to take their first steps as a married couple.
How tragically poetic. Roe and I had arrived at the church together. Now he’d leave in a limo with his wife.
We’d meet up with them outside the city. About half an hour north of here awaited a luxurious lodge-type of resort that’d hosted countless wedding receptions before. Surrounded by duck ponds, a forest, and two golf courses.
I was gonna give a practiced speech on how happy I was for the newlyweds.
I’d watch them dance to “Lady in Red” and cut their cake.
Fucking shoot me in the face.
“Darlin’, wake up. We’re almost home.” I scrubbed a hand over my face and tried to shake the cobwebs of sleep. Then I grabbed my phone off the tray table so I could fold that up against the seat in front of me.
Roe let out a sound of complaint and pulled his blanket higher up. “I’m not ready.”
I chuckled drowsily and rubbed his thigh. “I’m not carryin’ you off the plane.”
“Rude.” He dragged himself up and pushed his sleep mask to his forehead.
The sight was just so fucking perfect. The blanket clinging to his shoulder, the sleep mask, his unfocused gaze, and the bed head.
I took a photo of him, at which he scowled.
That one was just for me.
Epilogue
I wiped sweat off my forehead and tried to get my heart rate back to normal before I read the text Roe had sent.
Ten fingers, ten toes. Meet Cas. I named him Casper after you. Wish you were here. See you when you get home.
I swallowed hard and looked at the photo of Roe holding his little baby boy, then tossed my phone onto my hoodie on the ground and applied more tape to my knuckles. The punching bag in my parents’ garage had been the best feature of the house when I’d been a teenager too.
That was the case to this day.
Quick jabs, hooks, uppercuts, and crosses.
Two days, we’d been here, and I was already itching to fly home. Haley got it right. She’d stopped pretending. She never flew out to visit anymore. She’d had it with our folks. She’d broken free.
Why hadn’t I? Because I was a sucker.
When I’d left Norfolk, I’d still made excuses for our parents’ behavior. I’d found them to be fairly normal despite it all. The shit Ma spewed at times had been somewhat easy to filter out. I’d looked the other way, confident I’d separated myself from the more extreme views they had. Haley had shaken her head at me and said something like, “All right, if that’s how you feel…”
Being here now, however…fuck, it was glaringly obvious I’d just been blind and ignorant.
I heaved a breath and delivered three rapid jabs, switched hands, two uppercuts, and then I eased back and gave the bag a high kick.
My muscles burned. Sweat poured. Anger fueled me.
“You really ought to at least teach Colin how to say grace, dear.”
No, we weren’t gonna fucking do that. Nikki and I preferred to let our son choose. If he wanted to explore religion one day, he could do that when he was old enough to make the decision himself. There’d be no indoctrination in my son’s life. I didn’t hate religion, and neither did Nikki, but we’d both been hurt by some of its practitioners. That was enough for us. I had my folks, and Nikki had once had a grandfather who’d used religion to control his family.
One could say we were touchy on the subject.
“You know, you and Nikki really do make a lovely couple. Why don’t you give Colin a little brother or sister? Children are a blessing, son.”
I grunted and panted. Jab, jab, cross. Jab, jab, cross.
“We’re not together, Ma. I’ve told you a million times.”
Nikki, though—fuck, I’d never loved her more. She took things in stride, and we’d grown a lot closer these last few weeks. In Mexico, I’d received daily phone calls and texts, her just checking in on me, giving a fuck, being sweet, and I’d made an effort to be more involved in her life too.
She brought some humor to my misery. A bit smug she’d been the first to figure out my attachment to Roe, she teased me sometimes about “forever holding my peace” being a religious rule I could break one day, and “Go on, confess your sins to the shrink.”
I hadn’t even gone yet, but I had my first appointment the day after we got back to LA.
I was nervous. I couldn’t lie.
Putting words to my feelings wasn’t exactly my forte.
