Not After Everything (23 page)

The hum of the stadium crowd fills me with that certain thrill—the one I used to feel before a big game. Of course, it's the same stadium we played in, so that might have a little to do with it. I think about the last real game I played here, Mom screaming from the stands.

“You ready for this?” Jordyn takes my hand.

“Absolutely,” I say.

“You thinking about your mom?”

“How do you do that?” I smile at her. She's got her graduation cap pinned at a jaunty angle, eyes shining. “What am I going to do when—”

She cuts me off with a kiss. Nothing inappropriate, but it's slow and wonderful. My heart thumps heavily in my chest.

We're interrupted when Mrs. Ortiz announces that it's time to line up alphabetically.

I'm smashed between Philip Black and Fernanda Blades. The sun is scorching and the black gowns aren't exactly helping things. By the time we take our seats, I'm sweating my balls off. Philip Black—at least I think it's Philip, though in all fairness it might be Fernanda—forgot deodorant this morning.

When it comes time for my row to make the crawl up to the stage, I find myself wondering about Dad. I hate the bastard, but it feels so damn lonely not to have family when each time a name is announced, the family of that kid cheers wildly. Not that Dad would have ever come to this, and if he had, he would most definitely not have cheered. But . . .

“Tyler Nathaniel Blackwell,” the announcer calls right as my foot hits the stage.

Jordyn screams so loud she'll probably be hoarse later. But her cheers aren't alone. I search the crowd and see Henry, Kelly, Aslan, Patricia, and, I think, Dr. Dave applauding wildly. Patricia's standing and doing this kind of inappropriate dance. Just behind her I swear I see my mom, but then my eyes adjust and I remember that she's dead all over again.

I'm blinking back tears when the principal shakes my hand. He says something, but I have no idea what. Maybe she is watching. Somewhere. Not that I necessarily believe in any of that. I don't.

I follow the line of my fellow graduates back to our row and Jordyn jumps up from her seat and throws herself into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist. One of the nearby teachers—oh, god, it's Mrs. Hickenlooper—leaps into action, peeling her off of me. But Jordyn gets in a good, long kiss first.

• • •

After the ceremony, which was about twelve hours long, we head to the house, where all of Jordyn's family is waiting to shower her with graduation gifts.

I sit back at the fire pit, watching Jordyn hug and thank various relatives. I've never had that, and while part of me thinks that that much family could be a hassle, another part considers how different things might have been if I did have extended family. If Mom had had someone she could turn to when Dad made things unbearable. If she had a sister or a brother or a close cousin she could've confided in.

Aslan's laugh erupts from across the lawn as he chats with one of Kelly's brothers. He notices me and strides over. “You kidder. Kelly tells me you're going to Stanford on a
football
scholarship. I'm hurt you didn't tell me you played. We could have seriously bonded, bro.” He punches me on the arm.

“I wasn't exactly thinking straight this year.”

“Yeah, I heard. You dealing okay now? You need anything?”

I almost laugh at his serious face. It looks like a bad put-on, but I know it's not. It's just the way he looks. “I'm good now. Jordyn helped.”

“Whatever she did, you know she gets that from me, right?”

I manage a laugh. “Sure?”

“Well, you come back and visit us, okay? We gotta do some football bonding. Maybe at Thanksgiving.”

“Maybe,” I say. He hears his name being bellowed by his wife and leaves me with a hearty fist bump.

I scan the crowd for Jordyn, but she might have gone inside. So I lean back and stare past the flames, taking in the Colorado beauty. The purple mountain majesties with their brilliant orange halo seem to have made themselves even more spectacular, as if they know I'll be leaving them for good and are trying to seduce me into staying.

Captain nudges my hand with his cold nose, forcing me to pet him, then he rests his chin on my leg and closes his eyes blissfully. My heart twists.

“He'll be here when you come home for Thanksgiving.” Henry hands me a Coke and sits down next to me. Captain doesn't move from his head-petting.

I'm unable to look at Henry. If I look at him, or anyone else that I care about, I'll probably lose it, so I stare into the bright orange and yellow flames.

Henry doesn't say anything for a long time. Neither do I.

“You're always welcome here, you know.” He takes a long swig of his beer. I haven't so much as sipped my Coke.

My eyes burn, and not from staring into the fire. First Aslan, now Henry. I swallow hard, unable to put into words how much his invitation means to me. And how much it hurts that I won't take him up on it. And just like that, I know that I won't. I can't. It's suddenly clear. I have to move on. I have to evolve. I can't linger in the past. And this place has too much of that. This—all of it—it'll soon be a bunch of memories, beautiful and tragic and significant, but it's not my future.

“Henry, I don't know how I can possibly—”

Henry cuts me off with the clank of his bottle against mine, and one of his
Henry
looks that says more than any number of words could. Then he gets up and heads inside. I'm not sure, but I feel like he understands. I know his invitation is very real, and who knows, maybe I'll take him up on it one day. But for right now, there are too many ghosts in this city.

I spend the next week putting on a brave face. Kelly seems oblivious, but I find Henry watching me with . . . I don't know, maybe a sad kind of admiration? Or maybe I'd just like to think that. Jordyn has been acting “normal,” and by that I mean not normal at all. She's been way too happy and excited. It's out of character, but then I'm doing the same thing, aren't I?

The day before the day, I wake up, finishing any and all last-minute packing, which, let's face it, there's not much of. Then I head out to my last session with Dr. Dave.

I saw him after graduation—yes, it was him in the crowd with a view of Patricia's ass—and he told me that I didn't have to come, but I insisted.

His face is a mash of emotion when he greets me.

“Hey, Doc, don't go getting all mushy on me. I'm barely hanging on as it is.” I throw myself onto the couch and kick my feet up.

Dr. Dave chuckles as he joins me. “What can I say, Tyler, I'll miss you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm . . .” I can't finish because a piece of feeling has gone and gotten stuck in my throat.

“It's okay, I know.” Dr. Dave scoots that goddamn Kleenex box toward me on the table. When I glare at him, I find him holding in a laugh.

“Yeah, laugh at the poor messed-up kid. That's really cool.” I take the box and toss it at him.

He laughs out loud, and I do too.

“Did you think about what I said? About continuing our meetings via FaceTime?”

I nod. “Yeah. I can't really afford it, though. Henry and Kelly have been awesome about helping me continue coming since my birthday, but I can't ask that of them once I'm gone.” Social Services decided that on my eighteenth birthday, whether my treatment was over or not, I was done. I was an adult and if I wanted to follow in my mother's footsteps, I was no longer their problem.

“Here's what I want to do, then.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “You have my number and my e-mail. Use them. I would like you to check in whenever you feel like you need to talk. Or even if you just
want
to talk. I expect to hear how Stanford is all you hoped it would be and all that clichéd crap.”

I crack a smile. “Doc, I hope you know what a can of worms you're opening. You might seriously reconsider when I start drunk-dialing you.”

“I'm okay with the occasional drunk-dial.”

“Occasional? We'll see about that.” I want to tell him how much his offer means to me, but I just can't. He knows. I know he knows.

“And you'll be back for the holidays. We can work something out.”

I return my focus to the coffee table.

“Oh.” He gets it. “Do Kelly and Henry know?”

“I think Henry suspects. Kelly, no, I don't think so.”

“And Jordyn?”

I swallow. “I can't really tell.”

“You haven't talked about it with her? Has she brought it up?”

I shake my head. “You think I'm an idiot for not having discussed it with her, don't you?”

“I think you're chicken-shit. And human.”

“I can live with that.” I smile and nod. “Do you think I'm being stupid about . . . ?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. It's understandable to want to put some distance between you and this place with all these memories. Healthy even.”

“I don't know. Maybe I'll change my mind. Maybe I'll actually miss it here.”

“Maybe. And you know what? That's okay too.”

• • •

It's a slow weekend, so Henry gives Jordyn and me the day off. When I get back from Dr. Dave's, I pack a cooler and wait with Captain on the front steps for her to get back from the mall with Kelly.

“What's this?” she asks.

“We're going for a run.” I smile.

“Cool. Let me change.” She disappears for a few minutes and reappears in shorts and a sports bra.

I place the cooler in the trunk. “You're seriously going to run?”

“I'm probably going to die, but I'm going to try my best.”

I laugh as I get into the car. “You know I'd never make you run. Unless you wanted to.”

“I know. Figured I'd just play along. So where are we really going?”

I drive us to my favorite running path in the foothills near Red Rocks. The path I used to hike with Mom. The path with the perfect little picnic spot.

“Maybe if you carry the cooler, I'd be able to jog. For a bit anyway,” Jordyn says, letting Captain out of the backseat.

“Doubt it.”

She smacks me on the arm.

Poor Captain keeps doubling back as we hike, trying to get us to move faster. I would normally love to push myself on my favorite path one last time, but today slow feels right.

At just past the halfway point, we reach the long, flat rock, next to the single tree. The sun's even cooperated, remaining behind the tree so we have some shade. I pull out a container of leftovers from Kelly's amazing dinner last night, a couple Cokes, some silverware. Then I pull out the water dish and a treat for Captain.

“It's so beautiful,” she says, admiring the side-swept rock formations about fifty yards away.

“It is,” I say, admiring her.

“I can see why you like it here. You going to miss it?”

“More than you know.” I'm not talking about the trail.

I shift my focus to the view just as she turns to face me. I'm not sure whether or not she understood that little exchange. She doesn't acknowledge anything other than our meal. And a fine meal it is. Kelly made one of her signatures last night: steak salad. How is a steak salad so special? I have no idea. But I swear to god it's life-changing.

“It's awfully claustrophobic for being outdoors,” Jordyn says, running her fingers through Captain's fur.

I meet her eyes. She looks sad.

“I think we've avoided the elephant for long enough, don't you?” she says softly.

I nod.

“Neither one of us is stupid enough to think we could actually make a long-distance relationship work.” She squints up at me, eyes shiny.

“I know.” I scoot over so I'm close enough to touch her. “I love you more than . . .” I give up.

She's crying now, and so am I.

“I mean it.”

She nods. “I love you, Tyler. I'll always love you.”

I brush my lips to hers, closing my eyes. I whisper “I love you” against her mouth.

Nothing else needs to be said.

• • •

When we get back to the house, Henry and Kelly aren't there. There's a note on the fridge and a wrapped box on the counter.

Jordyn hands me the note without a word.

It's addressed to me in an elegant, loopy scrawl.

Dearest Tyler,

It's been such a pleasure having you in our lives this year. We're sorry about the circumstances that brought you to us, but we are beyond words about how you've changed us for the better. And the way our beautiful Jordyn lights up when you enter the room, well, there just aren't words for how that makes us feel. You've truly been like a son to us. And we are very, very serious when we tell you that you are always welcome here. No matter what. We love you, Tyler. Which is why we're unable to be here to see you off. As much as we'd love to spend your last night here with you, we know that you and Jordyn probably want to have your good-byes in private. We know you'll be tempted to graciously decline our gift, but please don't. It's the least we could do. Henry and I love you and we know you'll do well in everything that you set out to accomplish. Please keep in touch.

Love,
Kelly and Henry

My hands shake as I attempt to open the gift. Jordyn has to steady me once I've managed to unwrap it.

“It's too much,” I choke out.

Sitting on the counter in front of me is a seriously expensive Mac laptop. And I don't even have to turn it on to know that it's filled to the brim with software.

“For school,” Jordyn says, and she smiles.

I'm shaking my head and swallowing hard as Jordyn rubs circles against my back. My breathing hitches.

I simply can't fathom someone doing something like this for someone who isn't their family. Even though I pretty much feel like they are my family. They're more my family than my dad ever was.

Jordyn pulls away slightly so she's able to look me in the eyes. I kiss her gently on the forehead and then I hug her tightly.

How can I leave this? How can I survive without this? Maybe we could try the long-distance thing. Maybe we could make it work. Maybe.

She takes my hand in hers and leads me to the basement. “I have something for you too.”

“Jordyn—” I begin to protest.

“I don't want to hear it. I got you a present and you will accept it and you will love it and that's all there is to it.”

I actually manage to laugh.

When we reach my room, she sits me on the bed and orders me to close my eyes. “And don't even think about opening them.”

“Yes, sir.”

She kisses me quickly and then I hear her run out of the room.

Her footsteps are slower when she returns and it takes every ounce of self-control not to peek.

After shuffling around for a minute, she sits next to me on the bed and takes my hand in both of hers. “Okay. Open them.”

If the laptop is the most generous gift I've ever received, this is the most thoughtful—probably the most thoughtful, most meaningful gift I'll ever receive in my life.

A large framed piece of art that Jordyn had somehow managed to keep hidden from me leans against the dresser.

All five pictures of my mom have been blown up and converted into black-and-white and placed throughout the canvas, with beautiful watercolors of mountains overlapping them and a remarkable pencil-drawn resemblance of Captain. It's absolutely perfect.

I'm completely and utterly speechless.

Jordyn climbs onto my lap and I hold on to her, burying myself in her jasmine hair. She adjusts herself so her lips can reach mine. We kiss gently and then more deeply until I feel like not kissing her would be like dying, like I would flatline without her kisses to shock me back to life.

There is absolutely no doubt that this is it. This is good-bye.