Page 78 of Taming Georgia

I can’t stop.

I have to go, no matter what.

Tears roll down my face as the plane takes off, and I watch Detroit get smaller and smaller beneath me. I feel my heart shattering in my chest, the grief spilling from my eyes, and I can’t stop that either.

I keep waiting for the electrified energy to hit me—the anticipation, thrill, and nerves that I always feel. It usually starts on the plane, the rapid beat of my heart as I ponder the unknown. The out-of-place grin as I visualize the good I’ll do is also absent.

I anticipate it coming to me as I walk through Mexico City airport to exchange my dollars into pesos, but it stays away.

The energy that invades my body on these trips fuels my soul. It always has. Growing up in a world like I did—one where I never fit in, always felt out of place, and filled with guilt—wasn’t easy. Yet what I’ve been able to do with my life since leaving my parents after high school graduation has made me feel complete in a broken world.

As I board the small plane destined for Colima, the excitement still doesn’t come. I’m kidding myself if I thought it would. I knew that this time was different. Even if I couldn’t admit it, I knew that I was running away from and not toward my life. The reasons for this trip aren’t the same as they usually are, and that’s why the joy is absent.

I can’t rationalize the internal struggle taking place in my heart. It’s all new territory for me.

My smile stays at bay as the taxi drops me off at a small market. I run my fingers along the colorful fruit. The owner asks if he can help me, and I inform him I’m here to see Kylie. His lips turn up, and he directs me toward a door in the back of the market.

I tell him, “Thank you,” and when I grin back at him, it’s finally real.

I feel so honored to be in the presence of a local man who’s risking everything to help children. If anyone found out that he was housing our group, they’d kill him. And yet, he looks to me with gratitude.

This man grew up in a country where his options were limited, and he’s running his own business and helping to save children. My heart swells in adoration for this beautiful human being.

Kylie pulls me into a hug and introduces me to the others. She catches me up on the developments as of late, and I half-listen, for all I can focus on are the sad blues staring back at me in my mind and I want to cry.

In a world where I can be anything, I’ve always chosen to be brave and kind. But as of late, I’m neither. I’m a coward, plain and simple.

I excuse myself from the group and pull out my phone. I need to call my dad.

22

“Loving Georgia was never a choice; it was a privilege, so ingrained in me that it came as naturally as breathing.”—Wyatt Gates

My truck sits idle. The heater blows warm air into the cab on this chilly spring morning. I’ve been here in this same spot for over an hour now. There’s a little dog in my lap, resting his face into the crook of my neck. He’s no longer shaking.

I found this little beagle mix this morning, huddled in the corner of an alleyway, skinny and alone with tears leaking from his eyes. Some don’t believe that dogs cry, but they do. I’ve seen it many times. I couldn’t put him in the crate in the back of my truck. I knew he was scared, so I held him. I’m still holding him.

He’s been neglected and abandoned, and it’s clear that he’s terrified. I want him to know that he’ll be fine now. He doesn’t have to be afraid anymore. I run my hand down his matted coat, showing him affection, which he probably hasn’t felt in a long time. I’ll need a shower when I get back to the rescue, but that goes with the territory.

It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been doing this; my heart never ceases to break when I see a dog whose spirit is this shattered. I don’t need to talk to a shrink to understand why I chose this line of work. Yes, Cooper was a big part of it. But it runs deeper than that. I see myself in these animals. I was once hungry, alone, and unwanted. My spirit was beaten down so many times that it took me a long time to find it again after Ethel took me in off the streets.

Most of my life was spent praying for someone to save me, to protect me, to love me. Knowing what it’s like to be truly alone isn’t something most have experienced. Everyone usually has at least one person to love them. I know what it’s like to have no one. This guy in my lap knows what it’s like to have no one. It’s not something any person or animal should have to go through.

My phone has been blowing up all morning, but I’ve since turned it to silent. I just need a moment of quiet. I need to sit here, hold this little guy, and breathe because the truth is, I’m not doing too well either.

Georgia left a few days ago. I honestly thought she would change her mind. I believe that she feels something real for me, the same as I feel for her. Truthfully, I love her—down to my soullove her.

Loving Georgia was never a choice; it was a privilege, so ingrained in me that it came as naturally as breathing. Even now, when I’m so furious and bitter, I can’t help but love her. As beautiful, kind, and special as she is, she’s broken, full of insecurities and demons that I don’t understand. She’s running, and I wish I could figure out why.

But it doesn’t matter. She’s gone. She made her choice. I asked her not to go. She left. That’s that. I wasn’t enough to keep her here.

I’m never enough. I feel more alone than I have in a very long time. Ethel’s on another vacation. Carrie’s in rehab. Xavier is my friend, but I don’t feel comfortable spilling my pathetic guts to him. Cooper’s here, as always. He listens to me groan and grumble every night, but let’s face it; as much as he thinks he’s a human, he’s still a dog. It helps having him next to me, of course. But he can’t bring her back either.

As much as I love Georgia, truth be told, I don’t want her to return because I know she’d end up leaving again. I simply have to go back to living without her. I was without her most of my life. I know that role well. It sucks, but I can do it.

“What do you think, buddy? Ready to go?” I say to the pup.

I set him atop the blanket on my seat. He leans into my side, and I put the truck into drive.

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