Page 6 of Until the Day You're Mine

No false promises to come back for him or to stay in touch.

No phony apologies for the way she had chosen to abandon him.

Crying and cursing, he spends hours going through his room and then through the house – wherever his father isn’t, looking for a letter from her, or at least a note. Anything to explain her behavior. Any sign that there is some hope she might return for him.

Days later he gives up, finally accepting that Sally has said everything she had planned on saying to him. He had made his choice and so had she.

The emails that she sporadically sends over the years after leaving always feel a little bit cold and forced. Sally is essentially informing him of things and then asks Ty the precursory questions she is supposed to. In her consecutive emails, she never comments on his answers, and it seems to Ty, he is really talking to himself. Would she notice if he forwards one of his old emails instead of actually replying?

Probably not.

He really doesn’t want to find out, so he keeps up this little activity of pretend parenting.

But every new email that pops into his inbox makes him want to scream.

You left me like I didn’t matter. Like you hardly had to think about it.

The irrational fear of the correspondence completely ceasing stops him from voicing his true feelings every time. Ty replies to her emails as soon as they arrive, so he doesn't have to overthink the impersonal style they are written in. He clings to this feeble excuse of a relationship with his mother, too terrified to let go.

Awkward and shy as he was, he always finds it difficult to make friends. His terrible home life is another reason he keeps to himself. Losing the emails from Sally will be too devastating, and he knows it.

* * *

2009

George is too far gone. George. Sir. Ty can't remember the last time he called the man he lived with Dad. Their communication these days consists of George grunting, drunkenly screaming profanities and racist slurs at him, or simply telling him what to do when he’s sober enough to assume his parental role.

The day his life takes another abrupt turn for the worse has been overall unremarkable. Just like any of his other birthdays from the past several years. Tayida mostly remembers trying to stay away from his home for as long as he could possibly handle being outside at night. He roams the streets for hours after he’s done with his classes at school and his part-time job at the scrap metal factory.

The guys he hangs out with after his shift don’t even know it’s his birthday. It’s okay. Why would they care anyway? The day clearly has no significance to anyone in his life. No point in mentioning it. He looks pathetic as it is.

Ty has no one to celebrate with. No one cares where he is. The guys smoke their weed and drink their cheap beer, tolerating him hanging around. Any kind of company is better than being completely alone. Any noisy distraction is better than the silence he gets from his mother and the unintelligible inebriated slurs of his father he is often forced to listen to.

The thought of having to go home to George, who no doubt is completely out of it, drives him to continue with his strategy of avoidance. Ty stalls and drags his feet on the way home, opting to walk rather than catch any of the late-running public transport.

Killing time would save him from having to share his money with his father. With a bit of luck, when Tayida arrives home, George will be dead asleep or passed out.

Ty desperately needs to save every dime – it’s the only way to break free once he turns eighteen. No doubt his father will be furious, but Ty simply can’t imagine surviving another year living with George. The past twelve months have been a fucking nightmare.

They have been evicted twice. George has been arrested for drunken and disorderly behavior several times and Ty knows exactly how fucking lucky he is child protective services have too much on their hands to worry about him.

Would George go after him? Would his father allow him to have a normal life? Would he judge him for abandoning him, just like Sally had?

His fears are pointless. Somehow, he knows, as soon as he enters the small hallway before he even walks into the living room, that his father is dead. It’s not even the stench that reaches him first, alerting him he is about to stumble onto something terrible. It’s the ominous feeling of emptiness that greets him once he arrives in the apartment. The space is completely quiet, like a void absolved of life, the air stagnant and sweet.

When he’s brave enough to open the door, Ty finds his father collapsed on the filthy floor of the living room. George had choked to death in a pool of his own vomit.

Alone.

I’m alone.

George. Sir. Dad.

You. Left. Me.

* * *

The lawyer representinghis grandparents takes care of the funeral arrangements. George is cremated, and his ashes are due to be shipped promptly to his elderly parents so they could collect dust over a fireplace mantle or in a storage unit. Ty can only guess since he hasn’t spoken to them in years. They are paying for all the funeral preparations, so they take it upon themselves to claim his remains.

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