“Wait, is that why you moved to Stillwater? You knew?”
“No, I fucking did not know.”
He lets out a breath. “Well, you’re there now, so you may as well make the most of it. Maybe you can have some angry sex while you figure out why he ghosted you.”
“Unlikely.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Two guys who used to be in love and then were apart for twenty-five years for unknown reasons suddenly find each other in the same place? No way you’ll end up in the same house, let alone the same bed. You’re right.”
“Fuck you, B.”
“Nah, you’re not my type.”
“No. Your type is more the big, rugged farmer type, isn’t it?”
“Bye, Thor.”
He hangs up on me just as Kay comes into the kitchen. For a moment, I wonder if she overheard any of the conversation, especially because of the way she looks at me, but then she asks what movie we’re watching after dinner.
Maybe I’m reading her wrong.
Fuck knows what’s up or down today.
Tyler fills my thoughts again while we eat, but this time, they’re combined with the group I met at the soup kitchen.
I try to focus on the movie, but it’s hopeless. I can’t even tell Kay off for playing on her phone because if she asks me what the movie is about, I won’t be able to answer. There’s a woman, there’s a guy, there’s snow, and maybe trees.
When the couple kisses in the rain, I close my eyes because it’s not them I see. All I see is Tyler.
God, this is so fucked up.
The end of the movie can’t come soon enough, and when Kay goes to bed, I head down to the studio and play my guitar until my fingers hurt.
I finally go up to my room around two in the morning, feeling frustrated and angry. Frustrated because I can’t shake Tyler’s face from my mind and angry because I thought I’d finally found a new home for Kay and me, and now I don’t think I’ll find peace in the same town he lives in.
10
TYLER
THEN
I wasdays short of turning ten when I came to live with my dad. After years of neglect and jumping from foster family to foster family, I’d been more than apprehensive about my new placement.
The man had been friendly enough, but then again, they always were in the beginning. That was until they became pregnant with their own child or decided that fostering a kid was more hard work than it paid.
That was until I came to live with my dad.
On the morning of my tenth birthday, I came downstairs to the kitchen and found him at the stove, flipping pancakes. It was the first birthday present I remember having.
It doesn’t surprise me when, eight years later, I come down the stairs on the morning of my eighteenth birthday to find him doing the exact same thing he’s done every year since.
He doesn’t turn around when I get to the kitchen, so I take a moment to watch him. His skin has a yellowish tone. The biggest reminder of his declining health. But he’s stirring the pancake batter in the bowl in time to the music on the stereo.
Today is going to be a good day. I can feel it.
He sees me when I approach and sets his spoon down.
“Happy birthday, son.” He wraps his arms around me in a tight hug.
