4. Where Tyson Says Good-Bye

Three months later

KEEP IT together, I tell myself. You can do this. You can do this just fine. It’s not forever. It’s just for now.

“Kid,” Bear says gently from behind me. “We have to get going. Daylight’s wasting.”

“Sure,” I say, taking one last look around my room in the Green Monstrosity.

He puts a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll be back before you know it,” he says. “Thanksgiving or Christmas, whatever you want.”

“Sure.” I take it back! This isn’t what I want! Unpack everything! Put it all back where you got it!

“Dominic is waiting downstairs,” Bear says.

“Okay.” The ground shakes beneath my feet.

“You sure this is what you want?” he asks.

I laugh. It sounds slightly hysterical. “Little late now, isn’t it?”

He walks up behind me and puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’s never too late, Kid,” he says. “We do what you need to do. It’s that simple.”

It’s not, though. I’ve already uprooted our lives to move across the country. I can’t back out now. If I can’t do it for myself, then I can at least do it for my brother.

“I’m fine,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “I’m ready.”

He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me out of the room. The weight of his arm is a familiar thing, and it makes the long walk down the stairs easier. I am breathing. I am breathing.

I say good-bye to Anna, who has tears in her eyes.

I say good-bye to Creed, who roughly slaps my back when he hugs me.

I say good-bye to JJ, who doesn’t really seem to care what’s going on.

I say good-bye to Stephanie and Ian Grant, who tell me they’ll see me soon.

I say good-bye to Alice and Jerry Thompson, who say they’re so very proud of me.

I say good-bye to Stacey, and I think, You won’t be around long, so don’t get too comfortable. I’m ashamed at this thought and turn away before she can see it on my face.

I say good-bye to Erica Sharp, the attorney who helped me belong to Bear, who says she always knew I’d get this far.

I say good-bye to Georgia Ehrlichman, the social worker, who says something to me in German I can’t quite understand.

I’m handed a phone, and Eddie Egan, the therapist who taught me how to breathe, says he’s so sorry he can’t be there, but that he’s proud of me, and to remember what I’d learned from him.

I say good-bye to the Green Monstrosity, running my fingers along the wall near the door.

I say good-bye to Mrs. Paquinn, though she’s been gone a long time.

They gather, all of them, on the front lawn of our home. They talk. They laugh. They cry. I’m in the middle of them all, and I’m surrounded by so much that it’s like being caught in the middle of a storm that I don’t want to escape.