This was it, then. This was my ritual. This was the moment when everything changed.
I’d always imagined the everything-changed part would happen right away, in an instant, making a sound like the snap of fingers. But then, as I wiped my eyes on my bare forearm, I realized that the changes had already been happening. I’d been making them long before I arrived at that spot, with the waves lapping my ankles as the sun went down, painted like an orange-flavored push-up from Dairy Queen.
Behind me, on the beach, eating hot dogs and watching the same sunset as I was watching, was my new family. They’d found me, in spite of me. Jack, my fellow boxcar boy. Morgan, who loved Jack and, it seemed, loved me, at least by association. And then there was Wolfe.
He was watching me, looking out for me. Jack must have told him about the ritual. Wolfe was patient, silently waiting for me to finish what I needed to do. I had the feeling he would wait for me forever. For as long as it took. For me to step away from who I’d been and to step into his arms.
We would make new lives together. It would take courage. We’d have to work hard. Winters in Montana were brutal. ButI wouldn’t long for summer, for warmer days simply because it was easier. I wouldn’t long for anything, as long as Wolfe and I were together.
Winter or summer. Cold days or hot ones . For richer or for poorer. That was my future. My family could go fuck themselves, and I swore that I wouldn’t think about them anymore. I probably would, but I wouldn’t linger on them.
Wiping my eyes for the last time, I took a deep breath, glanced at the small disc of sun sinking into the dark waves on the far horizon, and turned around. There was Wolfe. Hot dogs eaten. Hands in his pockets. Eyes focused on me like I was the most important thing in his whole world.
He made me feel that way. Significant. Loved. Just by the force of his attention.
I went up to him and hugged him tight, my arms around his neck.
“I love you,” I said, my heart leaping with joy, the sense of everything being surreal fading with the warmth of his body against mine. “You are everything to me.”
And then Wolfe said something so astounding, it took my breath away.
“I love you, Blue,” he said, the words coming from deep inside him. “You could have died when you fell from that train, but you didn’t. And someone else could have found you, but they didn’t. I found you. And I’mkeepingyou.”
I wanted to be kept. I wanted to be held. I wanted us to argue and make up afterward. I wanted to sit beside Wolfe in his workshop and help him create online listings for his handmade rawhide bosals, and I wanted to share his joy when the orders came.
The money would never actually roll in from these sales because those kind of hackamores took a long time to make. Butthat didn’t matter because Wolfe would be doing something he loved doing, which was, after all, the entire point of being alive.
Cupping my face in his hands, Wolfe kissed me soundly and said, “I tell you what. Those hot dogs aren’t going to hold me. I need real food. How about you?”
“Yes,” I said, smiling, kissing him back. “Coffee for breakfast and pretzels for lunch? No way.” I looked over Wolfe’s shoulder at Jack, who was helping Morgan to his feet. “How about dinner?”
“Fuck yeah,” Jack said.
“Fuck yeah,” Morgan echoed, laughter beneath the words.
Slowly we walked up the mesh grate path to the road, and stood as a group looking at the hotel which, any way you wanted to look at it, was a fine establishment. But after the long journey to arrive, the last thing I wanted to do was sit inside a posh restaurant (which would haveamazingfood) and feel cut off from the rest of the world.
Maybe Jack sensed what I was feeling, for he came up and brushed my shoulder with his.
“There’s a little diner there, right on the beach,” he said. “Do you see it?”
I saw it. There was an outdoor patio that was set back from the road. There were umbrellas and lights strung from the poles, and every seat on that patio had a view. And every seat was full.
Behind me, Wolfe clasped my shoulders and kissed my neck, and whispered, “Let’s try our luck.”
Luck was with us. By the time we got to the host station, the young man, who wore eyeliner and a nose ring and who looked amazing, like he was auditioning for a part in a movie, looked up at us and smiled.
“Good timing,” he said. “Table for four?”
“Yes, please,” Jack said, sharing his winning smile.
We sat at a table in the corner and looked at our menus beneath those sparkling lights, feeling the night air grow cool around us as the sun went fully down and twilight expanded.
The food we ordered was simple: burgers, club sandwiches, piles of nachos that we shared. And it was amazing. Maybe because we were hungry and the ocean air made everything taste so much better. Or maybe it was because we were together.
Tomorrow we would plaster those printed posters for Star all over Santa Monica. Maybe we’d get arrested for defacing public property. Maybe the posters wouldn’t last very long, or they would get covered over by other posters. Maybe Star would never see them, even if he did one day decide to pay Santa Monica a visit.
I truly didn’t know if we’d ever find him, but if we did, I knew the town of Hysham would welcome him with open arms.
