His voice bellowed over the table with such confidence that I knew—I knew no one can mess with this family. Bad things may come. But these people are God’s.
We ate, played charades, and laughed. It was a true home filled with true love. When it was time to go, I thanked them and headed to the door.
“Sam, how’d you get here tonight?” Mrs. Ridley asked.
“I took the ‘L.’ It’s only a few blocks, Mrs. Ridley. I’ll be fine.” I was slightly panicked, but I’m also tired of fear.
“Carl, Sam took the train here,” she called into the next room.
Coach was beside me so fast, I jumped. I can’t move that fast.
“I take it all the time, sir. Really, I’m fine.”
“You are not. Once you’re on, you may be fine; but you shouldn’t walk around alone at night. You must tell us before you come visit so we can meet you at the stop.” He called back into the living room, “Kyle, come on, son, we need to walk Sam to the train.”
Kyle popped up with a “Yes, sir” and followed us out the door. I see why the boys trembled when I mentioned Coach Ridley. His very essence demands integrity. Kyle’s in good hands.
As the train pulled up, Coach turned to me. “Thanks for coming, Sam, and come often. You’re family now.”
I couldn’t stop the tears from pooling, then falling. I nodded, hugged them both, and boarded my train. As it pulled away, I saw Coach put his arm around Kyle’s shoulder. And I cried.
Everything I ever dreamed for Kyle is happening. My idea of “normal” was mere window dressing compared to this. Kyle’s got the real deal: a family who will stand by him and guide and love him for the rest of his life. You can tell there’s no halfway with the Ridleys.
And Kyle will need that strong, singular devotion because it’s going to be hard for him. I thought writing our story was tough, but Kyle will need more courage now. He’s changed so much in these last few months, but fears still plague him. He must lay them down, surrender his heart, and learn to trust others completely—I think that’s what having a family, having true love, really takes. I can’t quite process that. Surrender is foreign to me.
I’m proud of him—so proud, so happy, and so sleepy.
I’ll write more soon,
Sam
OCTOBER 5
Dear Mr. Knightley,
Classes are going well. Running is going well. The marathon is next Sunday. This week’s rest will give me more study time for midterms. Forget going out, forget fun . . . The job hunt has charged the air and no one is even nice anymore. I’ve stayed away from the nationwide fray by limiting my applications to the Chicago area. Kyle and the Muirs are here, and I see no reason to leave the only town I’ve ever known. But it’s an aggressive fight for the local jobs too.
On a bright note, Susan Ellis called yesterday to encourage me to apply at theTribune. I know seven classmates applying there. Debbie’s one of them, and everyone concedes she’s best. So, while I was flattered Ms. Ellis called, I doubt my chances. I called Mike to see if she’d called him with the same encouragement, and she hadn’t—she’d offered him a job, two rungs up the ladder. Jealousy surged for a few minutes before reason prevailed. I’m not in Debbie’s league and I’m not in Mike’s. I stopped pouting, submitted the application, and then searched for some more township papers to which I can apply.
I told Johnson, thinking he’d be pleased, but he wasn’t. He didn’t know I was Chicago-centric and demanded I send applications and writing samples to theNew York Times, theNew Yorker, and a host of other long-narrative papers and magazines. Now I must expand my scope—because Johnson agreed to mentor my final project, and I can’t afford to tick him off.
I dread all that rejection, but I dread a job offer from New York more. Alex is there. He’s gone from my life now—no calls, no texts, nothing. I’d hate for him to ever think I chased him. If this is what he wants—silence and rejection—I’ll honor it. I’ll send some New York applications to satisfy Johnson, but that’s as far as I’ll take it.
Enough about the job hunt. It’s all anyone talks about, and it’s wearing.
I skipped Governmental Policy yesterday to clear my head and went to Kyle’s first cross-country meet. Kyle ran like the wind and won. He’s only a sophomore and already the team’s star. And he smiles. Kyle smiles and laughs and possesses that teenage sassiness you only get when you feel secure. I love it.
And my walks to and from his house and the ‘L’ are quite an adventure now. Yesterday I arrived half an hour early, and the same three boys who harassed me last month were loitering on the platform. I almost stayed on the train when I spotted them, but jumped off at the last minute before my courage fled completely.
“Ma’am, you goin’ to see Coach?”
“I am.”
“It’s not real safe. Coach told us to keep an eye out for you. We’ll walk you there.”
“Thank you.” We chatted along the way, and I found they aren’t scared of Coach Ridley at all. These boys love him and want to please him. Kyle, being his son, is practically a demigod now.
It’s odd, isn’t it? As Kyle joins a family, I leave one. I thought I’d plow through grad school like I did college, but I made friends here. I found a life here. And I made other friends along the way. The Muirs and Alex will stay in my heart forever. But the rest of my friends are breaking apart as we hunt down that next chapter. I liked this one. And now it’s ending. I’m so sick of endings, Mr. Knightley.
