Settling Down, Part 4
May. 24th, 2009 08:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fleurlbA few days later, Tim was having a meeting with Billy in his office. At least that's what it would have looked like to anyone who glanced in the window. Billy was talking a lot and Tim was nodding gravely while taking notes. Only Billy was complaining about how emotional and hormonal the pregnancy was making Mindy and Tim was drawing pictures of stick figures jumping off a cliff.
Al knocked on the door and came in, wearing her dark blue business suit. She stood behind Tim and put her head on his shoulder.
“Nice – I like the one who looks like he's going to belly flop,” she said as she looked down at the notebook.
“You got that meeting with Buddy now?”
“Yeah, lunch at Seven Sisters. I'll try not to be gone too long. I'd hoped to get to working on that jeep today.”
She leaned around Tim and kissed him, causing Billy to roll his eyes and mutter good-natured complaints about appropriate workplace conduct.
Al flipped him off, broke off the kiss, and then winked at Tim before walking out and closing the door behind her.
“At least the wedding planning isn't making her crazy. I swear, there were days when Mindy was planning ours that I wanted to find an exorcist to banish the devil from her,” said Billy.
“Al seems normal to you?”
Billy nodded. “Yeah. Why? Is something wrong?”
Tim sighed and tossed his pen on Billy's desk. “She's late.”
“Late? For lunch with Buddy?”
“No Billy. Late-late. Like possibly pregnant late.”
“Oh.... How late?”
“I don't know because she hasn't talked to me about this at all.” Tim's voice was strained and he raked his fingers through his hair while he stared up at the ceiling.
“Then how do you know she's late?”
“I've lived with her for almost two and a half years. I know her. I notice things. And I'm guessing she's at least a month late. Maybe more.”
“And she hasn't said a word to you?”
Tim shook his head.
“Damn. Mindy'll tell me if she thinks she's even half a day late. Why do you think she hasn't said anything?”
“Don't know.”
“Let me ask you this, Timmy,” said Billy, pausing until his brother looked at him. “Would it be happy news if you found out she was pregnant?”
Tim took a deep breath and let it out through puffed-out cheeks as he considered the question. “I'm not going to lie to you. I'd be terrified, of not being ready or of messing up or not being a good dad, but I would be ....I don't know.....amazed and sort of, excited.”
Billy nodded. He'd gotten that particular news three times already and that was pretty much how he'd felt about it every time. “And what kind of news would it be for Al?”
Tim shook his head. “I don't know. I think she still has mixed feelings about the idea and still feels guilty about Avery. There's no rush on it, so I figured we'd just get through the wedding and talk about it later.”
“You don't think she's, you know....doing something about it?”
“Doing something about what? What are you talking about?”
Billy spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Well, what if she's pregnant and she knows for sure and she decides she doesn't want to have a baby now? What if she's, you know, taking care of it?”
Tim's face burned as he considered his brother's question. “No, no way.”
“You sure?”
“She might be scared and she might feel guilty, but there's no way she would ever make that kind of decision without talking to me first.”
“You remember Mary Beth?”
“That gal you were going with right after Dad left?”
Billy nodded.
“Yeah, sort of. Why?”
“She did that....didn't tell me until a couple months after the fact, when I didn't understand why she wouldn't let me touch her anymore. She burst into tears and the whole story came out.”
“Damn, Billy. What did you do?”
“I broke up with her. I'm not proud of it now, but at the time I was so confused. Angry and relieved and just plain mixed-up, I guess.”
Tim shook his head. “No, there's no way I can believe she'd do that.”
But in the back of his mind, Tim was thinking about how Al had been acting strange recently. The long bathroom break at Smitty's. The doctor's appointment. The question avoidance after the appointment. It all added up to suspicion in his mind, but suspicion of what, he wasn't sure.
*** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** ****
Tim and Billy were having lunch in Billy's office when Tim's cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and checked the caller id.
“Hi, Al. What's up?”
“I'm at the hospital. Buddy had a heart attack.”
Tim was stunned. “A heart attack.... Is he going to be okay?”
“I don't know, I hope so, I think so. They're going to stabilize him now and then might have to do a surgery later this afternoon or tonight. I need you to do some things for me.”
“Anything.”
“First, do you have a pen?”
Tim shuffled papers and burger wrappers around on Billy's desk, looking for a pen. Billy watched him with wide, concerned eyes.
“Got it. Shoot.”
“I've already called Lyla. She's on her way here and I need you to pick her up from Midland airport. She'll be on flight 5623, which is due in at 8.01 tonight.”
“5623, 8.01,” Tim repeated as he wrote the numbers on his hand and traced over them for good measure.
“Buddy's asked me to stay with him until Lyla gets here, so can you let Billy know I'm not going to be back in today?”
“No problem.”
“Then, finally, if you''ve got nothing else pressing this afternoon, think you could take care of that jeep for me? And get Kevin to help you – he needs to learn how to diagnose problems better.”
“Sure, although he's going to be mighty disappointed that he's working with me instead of you.”
“He is not.”
“He is. He can't look down my shirt nearly as well as he can look down yours.”
He could hear the smile in her voice as she told him to knock it off and that she'd see him at the hospital.
*** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** ****
Tim stood in the arrivals area at the airport, looking for Lyla. He saw her before she saw him, a determined figure politely stepping around people and walking with purpose toward the exit. Her face was pale and he could tell, even from a distance, that she'd been crying. She saw him and angled toward him, dragging her small wheeled suitcase behind her.
He didn't think, he just opened his arms and she fell against him. He could feel the tension draining from her as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. He was careful not to look down at her until he'd let her go and stepped back. He remember all too well how these physical gestures of comfort could spiral out of control when grief and worry were involved.
Tim picked up her suitcase and led her out to his truck, where George waited inside.
“Wow. He's gotten huge.”
“Yeah, not done growing yet either. He's only about six months old.”
Lyla laughed as George licked her face, then flopped down with his head in her lap.
“How're you doing?” Tim asked as he put the truck in drive.
“Oh, you know. I just want to be with my father. Then I think I'll feel better, when I can see for myself how he is.”
“Have you heard any more?”
“Yeah, he called me when I was in Houston waiting for my connecting flight. Said that they were going to do an angioplasty and not to worry, he was fine.”
“That the one with the balloon?” Tim remembered Al mentioning it as a possibility. It gave him a bizarre mental image of Buddy Garrity's arteries full of brightly colored party balloons.
Lyla nodded. “He sounded tired, but okay. He said he had Al to thank for his life. She's the one who recognized his symptoms, called the ambulance, and gave him aspirin.”
“She's a good one to have around in an emergency, all right.”
“Jason said she'd been to med school?”
Tim nodded, but didn't provide any more information. He hoped that Jay hadn't told her more than that.
“Why'd she leave?”
Tim shrugged. “Guess it just wasn't for her, you know?”
Lyla was quiet for a minute, rubbing George's soft ear with her thumb. “So, you're seriously getting married?”
“Yep. Should be sendin' out invitations soon. Tyra's acting as our planner and handling all the details. My job is just to smile and agree with everything.”
Lyla shook her head.
“What? Why is it so completely unbelievable that I'd be getting married?” Tim was equal parts annoyed and amused.
“You weren't exactly the type that seemed he'd ever settle down. That's all.”
Tim nearly said something about just needing to find the right girl, but he knew those words might be taken more personally than intended. He didn't want to hurt Lyla's feelings.
“That was a long time ago,” he said in a low voice.
“I just never thought you would.”
Tim sighed and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, debating how much to tell Lyla.
“Remember your birthday, two years ago? When I showed up at Vanderbilt?”
Lyla nodded as a guilty flush crept up her face.
“I was going to propose to you then. Had a ring and everything. It wasn't much, but I wanted to do it right.”
Lyla looked down for a moment then raised her head to look across the seat at him, searching his face for the truth. Magnified by tears, her large eyes seemed even bigger than usual. Tim looked at her and nodded.
“I'm still sorry about the way that turned out....and now....now I feel even worse.”
“Don't. I can see now it would have been a mistake. I was doing it for the wrong reason – I was afraid and wanted to keep you tied to me so I wouldn't lose you. With Al....it's just so different. She's like....oxygen – I need her and can't imagine not having her in my life. And she needs me the same way.”
A few tears escaped from Lyla's attempts at control and she tried to brush them away discretely, her elbow resting on the door and her forehead pressed against the cool glass.
“Lyla, I know you know what I'm talking about. That's how you and Jay were.”
“Were. Past tense.”
“You could be that way again. I know that you could.”
“Don't be stupid. That is so over and has been for ages. Ancient history.”
“Even a banked fire generates heat.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Lyla's sharp tone set him on edge and he struggled to maintain his patience.
“It means as long as there's still a part of you that loves him, and a part of him that loves you, it would only take a little work to get that fire going again,” he said slowly, as though explaining something obvious to a child.
“Do you really think so?”
Tim had to grin as he heard the same hope in her voice that he'd heard from Six when they talked about Lyla at Christmas.
“You're laughing at me,” she said in a petulant tone, crossing her arms and looking out the window.
“No. No, it's not like what you think. It's just, Jay sounded exactly the same way, same words, same hope, when we had a similar conversation back when he was visiting at Christmas.”
He looked over at her and caught a faint smile on her lips. But when she spoke, her tone was rueful.
“But it's too late. His life is about Noah and Erin now.”
“Noah will always be Jay's son, his main priority, but Erin, well, they're having problem. Honestly, if you gave him a reason, he'd leave her in a heartbeat.”
Lyla considered his words. “But if you guys talked about this in December, how come he hasn't said anything to me? I haven't heard anything about troubles with Erin. And I sure don't get a sense from him that he's being – and wants to be – anything besides my friend.”
“Lyla, no guy wants to get shot down. And I don't know if Jay completely believed me. He probably talked himself out of believing me before he'd even gotten back to New Jersey.”
“Why wouldn't he believe you?”
Tim shrugged and shifted uncomfortably. “He thinks you're still hung up on me.”
An awkwardness settled over the truck and Tim waited. He knew the truth, but he'd always thought that Lyla's pride and stubbornness would keep her from admitting it to him. And he'd been okay with that, so long as she was able to admit it to herself.
“Remember that conversation we had in the garage, when I asked you for a second chance and you said that I'd always wanted a different version of you?”
Tim nodded.
“I thought about that for weeks. And eventually, I realized why I was so confused and messed up. I'd loved both of you for so long, that you'd nearly merged into one person in my mind. So you were right. I was trying to bring out the parts of Jason that I thought you should have.”
Tim took the exit for Dillon and stopped at the lights at the bottom of the off-ramp. He looked at her, watching her eyes for the truth.
“And now? How do you feel about us now?”
“I love you like an old friend, like a brother. And Jason, I love him just like always.”
Tim sighed and nodded, a smile of relief on his lips. The light changed and he put the truck into gear.
“I don't know what to do, Tim.”
“Just tell him how you feel. And then, when you're finally back together, don't try to change him.”
*** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** ****
Tim felt the least he could do was walk Lyla into the hospital, even though he regretted the decision as soon as the familiar smell of disinfectant hit his nose.
“You can wait outside, really,” said Lyla.
“It's okay.”
They paused in front of a sign with directions, looking for the cardiac care unit. Tim deciphered the map and led the way through the twisting corridors to the unit, which had its own waiting room. He spotted Al's curls just peeking up over the edge of a couch and headed over to her. She was still in her business suit, her shoes on the floor and her legs curled up underneath her.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked her softly as he put a hand on her shoulder.
She looked up at him and the tension eased off her face. She stood up and saw Lyla, who was standing awkwardly a few feet away.
“He's in the recovery room, they said. He should be back here in about 20 minutes or so,” Al told her.
“Thanks, you guys, you don't need to wait with me. It'll be fine.”
Al looked at Tim and he knew she wouldn't leave Lyla sitting there alone.
“Are George and Bruno in the truck?” asked Al.
“Just George. I dropped Bruno off at home so I'd have room for Lyla.” He smiled and then saw the look on Al's face. “It's okay, the windows are partly opened and it's chilly outside. Really, it's okay.”
“Still, he could start chewing or something. Maybe it'd be best if you went down and waited outside with him.”
Tim recognized the escape she was giving him and nodded gratefully. He gave Lyla a quick hug and kiss on the cheek and told Al he'd be waiting for her.
Both women watched him leave and then looked at each other, a bit of discomfort lingering in the air. Al sat back down on the couch and Lyla sat in a chair across from her.
“My father said you saved his life. Thank you for that.”
“Your father is kind, but he's also on a lot of medication right now. I just did what anybody would have done.”
“Still, it was good that he had you there, since you've been to med school and know what to do in emergencies.”
Al's eyes narrowed and Lyla wondered what she'd said wrong. But Al didn't say anything, so Lyla felt obligated to find a way through the conversation.
“Thanks, by the way, for giving me that advice on Christmas Eve. It helped me realize what I really wanted so I was able to focus on med school.”
“I'm glad to hear it. You starting to get responses yet?”
“Yeah. I've gotten into Harvard and Texas Tech so far. Still waiting to hear from Columbia and Baylor.”
“Well done – if you can get into Harvard, you can get into any place.”
“Jason said you got into Harvard, but you went to North Dakota. Do you mind if I ask why?”
Al's hands clenched into fists and she could feel her blood pressure rising. She didn't remember telling Jason about Harvard.
“North Dakota gave me a full scholarship,” she said, fighting to keep her voice neutral.
The doctor picked that moment to step out into the waiting room. “Ms. Garrity?”
Lyla raised her hand a little, like she was in elementary school and the doctor walked over to her.
“The angioplasty went well and we put in a stent, which should help keep the vessel open. The next few days will be crucial in determining the long-term prognosis, but thanks to your friend's early intervention, your father should be just fine.”
Lyla thanked both Al and the doctor. “Can I see him now?”
“Of course,” the doctor turned, motioning for Lyla to follow him.
“You coming back?”
Al shook her head. “I'm exhausted. Give my best to Buddy and tell him I'll visit him in the next few days some time.”
Lyla gave Al a tentative hug, feeling a bit awkward about the whole thing but trying to treat her like any other friend.
*** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** ****
Al was unusually quiet in the truck on the way home, her eyes closed and her head leaned against the window, although Tim could tell she wasn't sleeping.
He heard her breathe a sigh of relief when they went into the house. She dropped her backpack on the floor and headed for the stairs.
“Where you going?” he asked, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward him.
“I need to get out of these clothes. That's all I've been thinking about for the last eight hours.”
“You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “I could help you out of those clothes. I think about that....a lot.”
“You could, but it would be much more helpful to me at the right now if you'd pour me a Scotch and wait for me down here.”
He dropped her hand and nodded, watching her turn and walk upstairs. He let the dogs out while he poured them each a Scotch, then settled down on the couch to wait for her. She came back down in her most comfortable, baggy plaid pajama bottoms and worn-in sweatshirt. She picked her glass up off the table and surprised Tim by sitting down in the chair and putting her feet on the coffee table.
She took a sip of Scotch and rubbed her eyes.
“Why you sitting all the way over there? You telling me I need to shower or something, because, you know-”
She cut off his suggestive remark. “I'm sitting over here because I have to talk to you about something and sometimes, I can't think clearly when I'm that close to you.”
He couldn't help the small, self-satisfied grin that slipped onto his face, but it slipped off as soon as she spoke again and he could heard her hurt and accusatory tone.
“How does Lyla know I got into Harvard?”
“I don't know. Probably Jay told her.”
“You told Jay?”
Tim sighed impatiently and rubbed his forehead before running his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I probably mentioned it to Jay at some point, him being my best friend, you being my gal and him being curious about you. I didn't realize it was a secret.”
“Have you told anyone about Avery?” Her husky voice was a whisper.
Tim was caught like an armadillo in the middle of a five-lane highway. He didn't want to lie but he didn't want to tell the truth either. His pause lasted half a heartbeat too long, giving him away.
“Dammit, Tim. Who?”
Tim looked down and waited a few beats before answering softly. “Jay.”
She looked at him, eyes burning with anger and accusation. But she didn't say anything. He felt like it would be better if she'd just yell at him and get it over with. He tried to explain what happened.
“It was when we talked at Christmas, during his visit. He was asking me about plans for kids and it just kind of came up. I'd never, ever told anyone else and Jay's my best friend. He wouldn't tell anyone. He gets it, Al. He's a father – he can imagine what you went through, even better than I can, to be honest with you.”
The seconds stretched into long, frosty minutes as Tim wished that she would say something, anything. Finally, Al nodded slowly. “First one's free, Tim. After that, I get really angry and it won't be pretty. We clear?”
“Clear,” he echoed with a nod, relieved that that was the end of it.
They sat in silence, drinking Scotch and avoiding each other's eyes until Tim couldn't stand it anymore.
“You going to come over here and keep me company now?”
Al shook her head. “Still one more thing I want to talk to you about.”
Tim felt like his heart was trying to climb out of his body through his throat.
“Yeah?” He tried to sound more casual than he felt, expecting that she was going to tell him that she was pregnant.
“It's not easy....I don't know how to tell you this.” She looked into her glass like it held all the answers.
“Whatever it is, Al, I can handle it. We can handle it.”
“It's just....ever since your father showed up, you've been....well, sort of absent, I guess, is the best way to put it. Not fully here. I feel like you're starting to shut me out.”
“I've been shutting you out?” His tone was incredulous.
She blinked, surprised by the ferocity of his response.
“Yes, you have.”
“That's kind of funny, because I'm not the one hiding something.”
Her eyes darted furtively before opening wide in an attempted expression of innocence. “I'm not hiding anything. What do you think I'm hiding?”
“You were late Al. I know you were. Were you ever going to tell me?”
She looked up at him, her face sad. “I was going to tell you when I knew for certain and knew that everything was okay.”
“So were you....are you...pregnant?”
She shook her head sadly. “I was but it was what they call a blighted ovum.”
“What is that? Like a miscarriage or something?”
“Yeah, a very early miscarriage because the embryo didn't develop.” Her voice was steady, matter-of-fact.
Tim tried to process her words. He thought he should feel relieved, that she was okay, that they weren't having a baby before they were ready. But he just felt a deep sense of loss and sadness.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered. He wasn't sure if she was apologizing for not telling him or expressing condolences on their lost child. She got up and sat down next to him, tentatively leaving a small space between them. He was looking away from her, a curtain of hair hiding his face. She reached out and brushed his hair back, tucking it behind his ear.
When he still didn't look at her, she put her hand on his cheek and gently turned his head. He kept his eyes down until he felt her starting to draw away. When he looked up, his eyes were full of hurt.
“I should have told you, as soon as I knew. I'm sorry. I was wrong to keep it from you.”
He didn't say anything, but he took her hand and squeezed it.
“First one's free?” she suggested with a small, hopeful smile.
He nodded. “First one's free.”
She leaned forward and hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and held her tight, hoping that the news would be better next time.
*** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** ****
The time raced by as Tyra worked hard to organize all the details for Tim and Al's wedding. White Christmas tree lights, a generator, tents, flooring material suitable to make paths for Jason's wheelchair so Tim wouldn't have to carry him everywhere (“As fun as that was last time, Six, I think my bride might get a little jealous.”), a caterer, tables, chairs, DJ...
The details seemed endless and the only thing Tim was curious about was the one thing he couldn't know about – the dress. All he'd learned was a scrap of information that he'd picked up from Billy, who'd heard from Mindy that Tyra had to find a seamstress to alter a vintage dress that Al bought online.
Al designed the invitations herself, using a watercolor painting she'd done of the lake. They selected July 2nd, which was the Saturday of the long Fourth of July weekend. It was good timing – early enough in July that Mindy wouldn't have to worry about having the baby during the wedding and the long weekend made it easier for Al's far-flung relatives to attend.
Tim was relieved that Tyra was planning the wedding, since it took much of the day-to-day stress off of Al, who had her hands full trying to organize the intern program for the next school year. They'd decided to keep Kevin and D'Andre and expand the program to a total of five interns. She had a meeting with Billy and Tim to discuss what they were looking for in the new interns. Then she picked a Friday afternoon and scheduled short interviews with the 15 students who applied for the program.
Tim was kept busy that morning with a transmission that just didn't want to get fixed. When he'd finally wrestled the parts into submission, it was about time for lunch, so he headed into Billy's office to get his order.
“Hey Billy, what do you want for lunch today?”
Billy looked up from the computer and Tim could tell by the annoyed look on his face that he must be paying invoices online.
“I dunno. I'm so sick of the Alamo Freeze....Hey, there's that new Chinese place, just opened up in the strip mall, you know the one, near the pool?”
“What, the one that's got the lawyer's office and the dog grooming place?” Tim was trying to picture it in his head.
“Yeah, that's the one. I got a menu here somewhere.” Billy dug through his desk drawers until he located the menu, then looked through it quickly.
“Get me fried rice and spare ribs,” he said finally, handing Tim a ten dollar bill.
“All right. Hey, where's Al?”
“Oh, she's got those intern interviews today, remember?”
Tim pursed his lips. “Yeah, but I thought those were later this afternoon. I was nearly positive she'd be around for lunch.”
Billy shrugged. “I don't know – maybe she needs to meet with Principal Taylor first or something. All I know is she got dressed up and headed out about 45 minutes ago maybe. You must have been test driving that car or something when she left.”
Tim hadn't test driven the car yet, but he didn't say anything. It was unusual for Al to leave without saying good-bye, but maybe she'd been in a hurry. He headed out to the strip mall to get lunch.
When he arrived, the parking lot was jammed and he had to drive around a few times before he found a place. The Chinese place must be doing good business, he thought. He walked up to the sidewalk and headed for the restaurant, going past a dollar store and the dog grooming place before he neared the lawyer's office. Two people had just come out and were having what looked like a heated conversation. The guy grabbed the woman's arm and she wheeled around, blonde curls flying, which reminded him of Al.
He squinted and looked again. Shit. It was Al. And if he wasn't mistaken, that was his father with her. He shook his head, trying to assemble a series of facts that could explain why his father and his fiancé were walking out of a lawyer's office together, but it was like trying to put together a puzzle when all of the edge pieces were missing.
“Al? What the hell?”
She looked up at Tim with a sick, caught-looking expression on her face.
“Well, darlin', it was a pleasure doing business with you,” said Walt, patting the thick envelope that stuck out of his shirt pocket.
Tim looked from Al to Walt.
“Oh, you don't know, do you? I'll let your little lady fill you in,” Walt chuckled as he began to walk away.
But Walt was never one to leave well enough alone. He always wanted more than the last word. He wanted the last dig. It wasn't enough for him to just leave you, he seemed to want to leave you hurting. He was about to step down off the curb to the parking lot when he turned around.
“You know, you want to think you're so much better 'n me. That you've somehow gone and made something of yourself. But the truth is, at the end of the day, underneath it all, Timmy, you're just the same as me.”
For the second time in his life, Tim refused to look at his father as the man walked away. He kept his eyes on the ground and waited several minutes before looking up at Al.
“What's he talking about? That envelope? Did you give him money?”
Al nodded and was about to explain when she saw Tim's face shut down, the light flickering out of his eyes and his mouth taking on a hard, almost mean set. She had a sense that an earthquake was cracking open a fault line, leaving them on opposite sides of a chasm.
“Tim, I can explain,” Al said, putting her hand on his arm, but he shrugged it off. She flinched at the rejection, and then watched him walk away, his head down and shoulders hunched.
He was hurt and angry and didn't trust himself to be near her, didn't know what he would say or how he would lash out. He stopped at the grocery store on the way back to the garage and picked up two cases of beer, two bottles of Jack Daniels, and a microwavable Chinese dinner for Billy's lunch. He left the alcohol in his truck and went into the garage.
“Sorry, Billy, the Chinese place was closed.”
Billy looked up, confused. “Why?”
Tim shrugged. “I don't know. But I got you this.” He dropped the cardboard container onto the desk.
“Are you okay, Timmy? You don't seem too good.”
Tim shook his head, relieved that he wouldn't have to lie to his brother to answer this question. “No, Billy, I don't feel good at all. Would it be okay if I took the dogs and went home for the afternoon?”
“Yeah, of course, Tim. Whatever you need. You going to be able to drive yourself home okay?” The concern in Billy's face made Tim feel guilty, so he hunched his shoulders and nodded without making eye contact.
“See you Monday, then,” Billy called as Tim walked out, but he only raised a hand in acknowledgement.
Tim drove home and left George in the truck. He stuffed as many clothes as his could into two large duffle bags. He grabbed his toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo and electric razor from the bathroom and dropped them into his backpack. He found his phone charger, his Ipod and his Ipod charger and put those into his backpack as well.
He felt like he was running away from home, like he had once when he was ten, just before his mother left. That time, he took a sleeping bag, his clothes, and his football and went to Jason's. He'd tried to just sleep in their backyard, but Mrs. Street had found him when she let their dog outside before she went to bed. She had him come in the house to sleep on the other twin bed in Jason's room, then she'd returned him to his parents the next day. His father wasn't home and his mother hadn't even realized he'd left.
Then there was that whole thing with Jackie and Billy, when he left after that. But for some reason, that didn't feel like running away. It just felt like leaving. Like his parents had. Just walking out the door and not looking back. He wondered what the was between just plain leaving and running away.
He loaded his bags, George's crate, and a giant bag of puppy food into the back of his truck. He returned to the house and thought about leaving a note for Al, but he didn't know what to say. He got a dog treat and gave it to Bruno, rubbing his ears and whispering an apology for leaving. Then he got into his truck and drove away.
His only thought was to put as much space as possible between him and Al. Because maybe his dad was right, maybe there was no difference between them. And if that was the case, then he probably shouldn't be with anyone since he'd only end up hurting them. Better to end things now, make a clean break before their lives became too entangled.
Then there was the way their relationship had just sort of drifted into this weird twilight state, where they were together but keeping things from each other. He had forgiven her for not telling him that she was late, but only the first one was free. Whatever conversations she must have had with Walt to set up that meeting, and then whatever they were doing in the lawyer's office that resulted in his father leaving with a pocketful of money, well, he didn't know how or if he could forgive her keeping those secrets.
Tim thought about pointing the truck in the direction of New Jersey, to be with Jay. But then he realized that Six would probably just talk him into going back to Al.
He thought about what he wanted, about what would make him feel better. But he knew he wasn't going to be able to feel better. The best he could hope for was to feel nothing. He decided that all he wanted to do was drive fast on the highway and get to somewhere on the coast. South Padre Island, he decided, would work, even if he wouldn't get there until well after dark.
He plugged his Ipod into the stereo, trying not think about how Al installed both the stereo and a hands-free cell phone setup for his last birthday present. He scrolled through his playlist to the one he favored for both driving and working out – a lot of loud, fast heavy metal songs that always made him want to push himself harder.
He got to South Padre Island about three hours after sunset. He drove around until he found a squat motel, right on the beach, run-down enough to look like something he could comfortably afford. He spent the first night sprawled on the lumpy bed in his motel room, one hand holding a bottle of Jack Daniels, the other petting George, who must have thought it was his lucky day to get to sleep in the bed for a change.
Tim watched crappy movies on an ancient, flickering television set as he drank the whiskey straight from the bottle. The liquor tasted slightly off, since it lacked the tastes he'd gotten used to in the Scotches Al liked. The absent flavors reminded him of Al and he missed her in a way he didn't think was possible...like missing a limb. He felt a tightness in his chest whenever he thought of her and the only thing for it was to drink faster.
He stayed up all night drinking, then slept all day, leaving his motel room only to take George on quick walks and to pick up something to eat. He repeated this pattern for the entire weekend. Monday morning, he was so completely shit-faced, he nearly felt okay. Or at least, he finally felt nothing.
