Page 32 of Left of Forever

I thought I would be okay when this day came. I truly always thought that I’d get a bit misty-eyed but would be able to give my son a brisk hug, a pat on the back, and smile as he went. I’d be happy for him and proud of the job we did.

I was sorely underprepared for the emotions that have only built over the last nine hours.

I’ve been to our old house only a handful of times over the years, so when I coasted up Ellis’s driveway just after sunrise—with its fresh gravel and the same old honeysuckle vines growing across the pergola over the garage—I wasn’t fortified enough to stop the longing that tore through me, imagining coming home again. I snuffed it out as quickly as I could and finished loading Sam’s things. I could feel Ellis’s eyes boring into me, but I was too fraught to give him more than a brief, tight nod-and-smile back.

The room Sam’s subletting in California is a glorified dorm, but he couldn’t care less, and at least it cut back on everything heneeded to bring, which made the loading-up process fairly quick. The misty spray from the summer storm hovering over Spunes helped to keep everyone else on track, I think.

Micah was there already, since he’s been staying with Ellis. I caught him trying to slip Sam one of his old driver’s licenses to use as a fake ID and swiped it from him. When Silas and Sage showed up together with no one else in their car, Sam’s expression fell a fraction.

“Sorry, Sam,” Sage had said. “Indy’s not great at goodbyes, still.”

“It’s okay,” he said too quickly. He shook his head and sent water droplets scattering. “She sent me a nice message and stuff. I get it.”

Silas kept his sunglasses on despite the rain and the limited daylight, jaw working and mouth quivering as he sniffled. “In the words of the great Dolly Parton,” he’d said ominously, voice choked with emotion, “treat every day like it’s raining, and always wear your rubbers.”

The rest of us groaned, but Sam laughed before wrapping him into a hug. “Thanks, Uncle.”

Silas then openly sobbed, and we all said our goodbyes. I had the bleak, terrifying thought that it could be a goodbye in more ways than one. Maybe Ellis and I will come back and be worse off. Maybe I won’t be able to be near any of these people without feeling him and I won’t be strong enough to stand it ever the same.

But maybe we’ll be something new and better. Friends? More?

Hope, hope, hope.Hope is my Tell-Tale Heart, thumping away no matter how hard I try to silence her.

As we reached the town border, my first set of tears fell. A small crowd had gathered around our infamous welcomesign—the one that Sage petitioned when she was barely older than Sam to include the “Not to be confused with Forks” phrase. Beneath their ponchos and umbrellas and behind waterlogged posters decorated in various farewells, I recognized Walter and Martha, Venus and Athena, even Bea Marshall, plus some kids from Sam’s class. Fisher must’ve taken a break from Starhopper because I saw him raising a hand, too. Someone at the very back of the crowd didn’t wave at all, which was the only reason she caught my eye, despite trying to be discreet. She was suspiciously Indy-shaped, but I couldn’t tell who it was for certain through the rain and glaring sun.

Bright and rainy, like Spunes itself was crying happy tears to watch our boy go.

Since then, Sam spent half the drive with me, answering the full battery of questions I could not stop myself from firing at him, before I started repeating myself and his patience began to slip around the four-hour mark, which is when he transferred over to Ellis’s truck to “split time evenly” between the two of us.

I couldn’t help it, though. It’s as if time sped up on us somewhere, and it’s all happening too quickly. Time does that, I suppose. When you spend so much of it looking forward to the next thing, it can easily slip out from under you.

I want to ask Sam if he ever felt that from us. Did he start crawling, and did I immediately say something about him walking? Did I wish away all his phases? Does he want to turn around and come back home and wait a few years before starting an entire adult life in another state? I—oh god, when did this happen? I’m tempted to make a fourth pit stop just to stall again.

I recognize all these feelings and, more importantly, the lack of rationality behind them, so I keep them suppressed as much as I can to spare Sam (and myself) the embarrassment. I wish I couldlook to Ellis and see how he’s feeling, but as soon as I spot him emerging from his truck when we both park in the apartment lot, I’m… I’m actually so much worse. He’s got sunglasses on, and I can see his jaw working from a distance. He’s struggling, too.

We’ve spent more than half our lives being Sam’s Mom and Sam’s Dad. Who the hell are we meant to be beyond this? Are we going to find out side by side, the way we came into these roles? The only thing I know for sure is that we can’t be expected to keep it together and that I’m deeply grateful he’s fraying at the seams, too.

We slip into a rhythm, carrying Sam’s things back and forth from the truck into his too-small room. All three of us are quiet and pensive as we work, until it’s just me clutching a singular desk lamp so tight my nails dig half-moons into my palm. My brain is genuinely looking for an excuse to take Sam right back out of here.

“Sam, do you even fit in that bunk bed?!” I ask. My voice sounds like a slow-leaking balloon.

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” he says cheerfully. “Who knows if I’ll even sleep here most nights.”

The balloon fills back up just as Ellis’s chin falls to his chest with a sigh. “Not the time for jokes, son.”

The first pealing cry breaks free from me, and both men look like they don’t know what to do with their hands.

“I’m—sorry!” I sob. There’s no reeling it back now, I let the tears flow freely.

Sam wraps his coltish limbs around me and pats me gingerly on the back. Oh god, he’s a grown man. What if he never even lives with us again? I wasn’t adequately prepared for this at all. I probably missed so much. There are so many things we still need to teach him.

I don’t realize I’ve said this out loud until I’m being passed into Ellis’s arms. “He’ll learn them. We did good.Youdid so good, baby,” he murmurs into my temple. My sobs settle into a sniveling whimper, but no less embarrassing for any of us. “He’s got all the right tools to make the right choices. He’s got everything he needs. He knows he can ask us for anything. Talk to us about anything. Right?” Ellis asks him over my head.

“Yeah,” says Sam. The catch in his voice turns the knot in my throat to cement. I wrestle with my hysterics and step out of Ellis’s warm arms, wiping at tears.

I pull out my phone-wallet and try to read cards through watery eyes, slipping a few from their pockets and passing them Sam’s way.

“Here,” I say, clearing my throat. “Here are your insurance cards. You have four months to find a dentist and get your biannual cleaning done. I—” Oh,Jesus, the crying is starting anew. “Don’t let your perfect teeth rot!” I wail. “We spent a lot of money on braces, and… and… dental care is m-more important than anyone realizes. I love you and I’m proud of you.” And with that, I give him one more squeeze before I stomp down the hall, tearing myself away.