Page 12 of Faithful

My face is a problem. The bruise on my cheek is the size of Canada. And I have no idea how to explain its presence to Leigh.

So I don’t. I simply warn her. I tell her that I had an incident while working out and she better not comment on it when she and her boy toy arrive at Madison Park to help me with my shit.

They’re at the gate at five past ten. Leigh is armed with a huge cup of coffee she picked up for me on the way.

We load up the boxes into Paul’s truck in grim silence. I managed to get them all down beforehand, secretly grateful for Gavin being absent and my mother being somewhat lucid.

She even comes downstairs, dressed in slacks and a blouse for once instead of a nightgown, and offers us some refreshments before we take off. Julie is hovering by her side, a little tense, and I’m wondering if she’s been hearing nonsense about Ava being alive too or if it's simply the fact that I look like a train wreck.

I give my mother a hug and promise to stop by tomorrow after work.

“You don’t need to check on me every day.” She puts her bony hand on my cheek and smiles up at me.

“Mom?” My chest is suddenly hollow, and my conscience is screaming at me. “I can stay if you want… I don’t have to move…”

“No, baby.” She shakes her head. “You shouldn’t. You go and live your life.”

There’s an unspoken finality in her words as if she’s saying goodbye, and it only freaks me out more. I’m about to tell Leigh I’ve changed my mind when Julie steps in. “It’s alright, Dylan. We’ll be fine. It’s not like you’re leaving the state.”

She’s right. I’m literally going to be several minutes away.

And that’s it. And then I’m gone.

I walk out the door and shove myself into the back seat of the dark green truck and we drive off.

The first half of the trip is somewhat quiet. Paul and Leigh are chatting about some trip they are apparently planning on taking together. She reaches out once and squeezes his hand and it’s endearing. It makes me a little jealous too. Not of him but of what they have. The freedom of just being themselves in front of me.

I realize I want that. I want it badly.And only one person in particular invades my mind at the thought.

Unfortunately, being Gavin’s son disqualifies me from having the things other people can have.

Funny, but he and I never even spoke about my moving out.

He was pretty fucking obvious when he told me he wasn’t going to finance any of my trips that weren’t authorized by him.

I heard it. Loud and clear.

He hoped to teach me a lesson.

Fine.

“You want to grab something on the way?” Leigh asks, peeking at me from the front seat. “Or should we just order pizza?”

“Pizza is fine,” I mutter, staring at the gray and red buildings whizzing by outside the window. The sky is angry with rolling dark clouds and the promise of heavy rain, if not today, then tomorrow morning.

“Pizza it is.” Leigh pulls up Uber Eats on her phone.

The car ahead of us comes to an abrupt stop and the truck groans in protest when Paul hits the brakes.

The boxes and the two pieces of furniture I chose to bring with me–my desk and my chair–rattle dangerously in the back.

“Don’t you dare lose his stuff.” Leigh slaps his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, babe.”

She twists to look at me and says, “Good thing we’re not moving your bed and dresser, huh, Watson?”

They were too big to load up onto Paul’s truck anyway. Besides, my best friend quickly found a solution.

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