“I used to live on the streets just like you. Busked right over there.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Everyone does. You’re the Phoenix.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That’s what everyone calls you out here. The street kid who rose from the ashes. The Phoenix.”
Rory’s hand trembled in mine, and I gripped tighter. He looked at me, a flood of emotion filling his eyes. Those tears he hadn’t been able to shed for Nikki came for this boy and for the symbol of hope he’d become. His past wouldn’t be his downfall; it would be his legacy. What was it Nikki had called it?
A victory for the forgotten.
The Phoenix.
And I’d been the one to repair his broken shell from the blueprint my mother had modeled for me.
“Can you spare some change?” the boy asked.
“Oh, Flash,” Rory said. “I can do a whole lot more than that.”
40
RORY: COMING HOME
Iclimbed an incline at the back of my newly purchased property, then sat on a patch of groundcover at the top of the hill and took it all in. A jumble of emotions hit me in the feels: pride, shock, gratitude. My house. It wasn’t a sprawling estate like what Jake bought for his parents, but it was still everything Nikki and I would lie awake at night imagining as kids. A two-story Spanish-style house with a clay tile roof and a pool that made me giddy to look at. There was no lazy river, but it had waterslides and rock grottos and waterfalls all in a tropical oasis.
Despite having had plenty of time to get used to the idea of being a first-time homeowner, through the long process of qualifying, searching, and finally closing on the property, nothing had prepared me for this incredible accomplishment. The ultimate measure of success: a home of my very own. I hadn’t gotten here alone. The safety net I’d lacked my whole life had come alive the day I met Grace, and together we were unstoppable. This place was proof of our collective power.
“I made it, Nik,” I said, subdued in tone and pitch. “I wish you could see it. It’s everything we ever dreamed of.”
I went on to describe the place to her. In the eight months since her death, I’d worked my way through my conflicting feelings and had come to a place of peace and acceptance. The forgiveness part was still a work in progress, but I was getting there. Understanding that she was a victim too helped in the healing process. If Nikki had found her own grace, maybe she could have been saved like me.
“I’m sorry I left you on the shelf for so long,” I said, holding her urn gently in my hands. On the front was Nikki’s full name and the dates of both her birth and her death. Dignity. It was all I could offer her now. “But I’ve got you now. I’ve got you.”
Prying the lid off, I released her ashes and watched as the light wind picked them up and sprinkled them along the hillside.
She finally got her mansion in the hills.
* * *
From my perch,I saw Grace walk out onto the patio, shielding her eyes as she looked for me. I let out a bird whistle to get her attention.
“Is there a reason you’re perched up there?” Walking past the pool, Grace started up the hill.
“I wouldn’t,” I said.
“Why?”
I held up the empty urn. “Nikki.”
Grace squealed and jogged back down. “I swear to god, Rory. You need to be better socialized.”
“What? I told you I was going to scatter her ashes.”
“I know, but I thought you were going to rent a boat or take a hike or something, not fertilize our backyard with her. What if the wind picks up?”
