Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
And somehow, that did, knowing I had a choice in it, knowing this was the way to Gage, and to being a good uncle for Olivia, and a good best friend for Mouse and Romeo. And maybe, being good for myself too.
I told her about Mom’s suicide, about my father and not measuring up, about him thinking I was weak or girly. About meeting Gage in first grade and how we became best friends.
That made her smile. It made me smile too.
I told her some about Mouse and Romeo, then circled back to the mean things my dad used to say to me and the physical abuse.
I talked about falling in love with Gage, about our plans after we graduated. I didn’t give her every detail of it all, of course. I would have had to talk to her all night for that, but I gave her the highlights—or the lowlights, if that was a thing.
I quickly brushed over what happened that night…my birthday, Gage and Dad and prison and losing him and…Jesus Christ, there was snot and tears all over my shirt. I cried on her couch pillow, and she handed me a box of Kleenex. Each word hurt—physically, mentally, emotionally—like ripping something out of me that had its claws buried deep, slicing and clawing me as I spoke. They broke me, but there was something else too, something in the release that gently touched the surface on what I hoped would eventually begin to help heal me. I’d never be fixed, I’d never be the same, but God, I wanted to be different. Better.
“That’s…quite a bit,” Rose said. “Thank you for being willing to share it with me.” It wasn’t the first time she’d spoken, of course; she’d commented and asked questions as I told the story.
“Thanks for listening.”
“What are you hoping to get out of this? I ask everyone that. It gives me a better idea of how to move forward—if you’d like to move forward with me, that is.”
“I want to learn to be happy again. I want to be healthy. I want to look at the world the way I used to. I want to be good for Gage.”
“Those are all noble aspirations, and the best way to be good for Gage is to be good for yourself first. I’m sure you know that.” She smiled. “I’d like to keep talking with you, if you’re interested. I’m really sorry for everything you’ve been through.”
Yeah, I was sorry too, and…I liked Rose. I felt comfortable with her. In some ways, she reminded me of Mouse. “I’d like to keep talking with you too.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Gage
I was doing my best to keep busy in the garden while Joey was at his appointment. I wanted this for him, of course I did. I wanted Joey to have any and everything that was good for him, but I couldn’t lie, there was fear there too. Exactly what I was afraid of, I couldn’t put my finger on, but then, maybe I was always afraid. Maybe that was my state of being now, whether I had a reason for it to be or not.
So I picked weeds, and trimmed dead leaves, and began working in the section on the other side of the sidewalk, where Darrel said I could expand the garden. I wanted this—my own little house one day, something small with Jojo, where I could have my own garden. Maybe we could even be the kind of people who had a booth at farmer’s markets on the weekend. We could sell fresh fruits and veggies, maybe find some craft we were interested in that we could sell as well. After being there every week, people would recognize us and smile, thinking about the two men who loved each other. It wasn’t something I would have ever seen for myself. Having that calm, sort of normal life was a fucking joke in a lot of ways, but I wanted it. I wanted it with Jojo.
At the noise behind me, I looked over my shoulder. Joey stood between me and the sun, blocking it from hurting my eyes, glowing like it shined just for him.
I pushed to my feet, saw his eyes were red and puffy.
“Hey, how did it go?” I popped my knuckles to keep from touching him, unsure if he would want that from me right then, or ever again, and holy fuck, that was part of my fear, wasn’t it? That this woman would tell him I wasn’t good for him, and that she would be right.
“Good, I think. I mean, it sucked. It hurt. It wasn’t fun, but I think it’ll be good.” He was the one who leaned in then, pressing his forehead to my shoulder. I wrapped him up in my arms. I was sweaty and dirty, but I knew Jojo wouldn’t care. He just needed me to hold him. There was so much pride in me in that moment. Him coming to me, wanting my touch and my comfort, made me feel worthy more than anything else could. Like I’d climbed the highest mountain and could reach up and touch the stars he used to love so much.