by Bates, Aiden
“I’m sorry I was a bit of a mess,” he said into my chest. “I know that was not what my dad would have wanted me to do.”
“No, Kyler. You grieve the way you need to grieve. I’m so sorry about Korbin.”
He pulled back and flashed me a watery smile.
“Still. You have promises to keep.”
I knew he was talking about the promises I had made to Korbin.
At least he sounded like his own self, and for that I was relieved. But I was also concerned that he was pushing down his feelings, and that was never healthy.
“You just lost your dad. You’re allowed to be upset.”
“I know, hubby.” He smiled again. “Now, come on, help me here. I seem to have forgotten how to cook sausages.”
We spent the rest of the day in bed, mostly talking about Korbin. Slowly, I managed to get Kyler to open up about him, as I felt I had missed out on a great man. I had always known Kyler and his father were close, but it was deeper than that.
Once he started talking, the stories just flowed out of him.
“Korbin once camped out in front of a shoe store for 12 hours just to get me a new pair of Jordans,” he said. “He always supported my whims, even the most unlikely ones. Like when I decided I wanted to run for student body president in high school. Dad stayed up with me every night that week helping me design and implement my campaign.”
“Did you win?” I asked.
“We would have, if Suzie Lockwood had not excited the students with promises of a new menu. Still, Dad was there with me the whole way.”
“That’s beautiful, Kyler.”
“When I wanted to be a musician, when I was auditioning for the school play. Even later when I thought I had a career in fashion. Korbin was always there, sewing, rehearsing with me, enduring my noise as I practiced. He wore all the hats, read all my scrips, listened to my terrible songs…”
His voice broke and he trailed off.
It made sense, how Korbin had encouraged his son to do it all. Because of it, Kyler had grown up with a restless energy. From what he told me, he had never really settled on a single thing to do, because he had been brought up knowing he could do it all. So the question became whether the thing he landed on was enough for him. It was a fascinating insight into the man I married; his relationship with his dad had clearly made him who he was.
Korbin had been a great father to Kyler. I was in complete awe of him.
It was also impossible not to draw parallels with my own father. Rance McCormick had been a good dad. I could not take that away from him. My childhood had been okay, if somewhat unremarkable. But the truth was that he never had a chance to be a normal dad. Rance was the jewel of Hollywood, so his career always came first. Often, sacrifices had to be made, and those were almost always at our expense. I never held it against him when he couldn’t make a recital or a graduation. It helped that he would be on television later that night receiving an award and thanking his family for their support. When he got a chance, though, he was desperate to make up for it. He took me on as many trips as my school schedule would allow. He had no problem showing me off when we were out. I was Rance McCormick’s son, and that had its perks. So what if he was not always there to read me a bedtime story.
No, Rance had done the best he could. Still, it was hard not to compare him to the man Korbin had been, and how he had positioned himself in the eyes of his son.
“I think what you had with your dad is beautiful,” I told him. “I’ll be lucky if I can be even half the father he was to you to our child.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful father.”
The hospital called shortly after. We were supposed to make funeral arrangements. I assured Kyler I would take care of everything. He told me Korbin had wanted to be cremated, so there was no need for an elaborate funeral. All he wanted to do was go collect the ashes.
It took some convincing, but Kyler eventually agreed to a small memorial get together, even if it would just be the two of us. A proper send off.
“You could invite your best friend. Jess, right?”
Kyler’s eyebrows shot up.
“Shit. I haven’t even told Jess what happened.”
And he dashed off to make the phone call.
The memorial was easy enough to arrange. We met up with Jess in L.A. four days later, as it had seemed the most practical course of action. Strangely enough, she was exactly how I had pictured her. She was young and bubbly, with the same kind of infectious energy Kyler had. It was easy to see why they were best friends. They spoke the same language. They had an easy banter that I was immediately jealous of. Sometimes, their dialogue switched completely to pop culture references I struggled to keep up with. One of her first observations was that I had a ‘Hollywood beard’, which reminded me of the first time I had met Kyler. I thought I saw her sizing me up, and I wondered what she really thought about me, and what Kyler had told her.
“What do you do, Jess?” I asked her as we drove from Cranberry Woods.
“Oh, officially, I’m a photographer,” she said.
“And unofficially?”
“Freelance. Social media influencer. A lot of meaningless millennial jobs.”
“But photography is where your heart lies, right?”
“I know. That’s the most Hollywood thing to say, but there you go.”
“Not really, no. You remind me of a younger me.”
We drove to the Sunset Cliffs along the Pacific Coast, which Kyler had identified as one of his dad’s favorite places in the entire city. It was not as crowded as I had expected it to be. It was the perfect time, too. The sun was just beginning to dip, throwing the cliffs, the beach and the ocean into a gorgeous orange haze.
We picked out a spot away from the main throng at the beach, set down a blanket and watched the sun set slowly.
I pulled out a bottle of bourbon and three glasses and poured liberally, handing one each to Kyler and Jess. Kyler’s jaw was set, and I knew he was fighting to keep his composure. I lifted my glass first.
“To Korbin Nielson,” I said in a clear voice. “A great man and an excellent father. I hope to be worthy of your son someday.”
Kyler smiled, his eyes glistening.
Jess raised hers next.
“I remember the first time I met Korbin,” she said. “And he made me feel right away like I was part of the family. He never treated me as anything other than his daughter. He was a great dancer, an excellent cook, and a seasoned charades veteran. He loved nothing more than spending time with family, and so often that included me. I will never forget you, Korbin. I hope to live as you did.”
I got up, moved to Kyler and put a hand on his shoulder. He had not let the urn with Korbin’s ashes go since he had received it. He was balancing it awkwardly with one hand while the other held the glass of bourbon. He stared quietly into the sunset. Then after a long pause, he lifted the glass high, beaming around at us, his eyes misty.
“Dad wanted me to be happy,” he said. “Dad has always wanted me to be happy. Whatever else was happening in my life, he could not bear to see me unhappy. He made it his mission to put a smile on my face. So I won’t sully his memory with tears, or sadness. I will remember him as a beacon of joy in my life, and I will strive to always be happy, for him.”
He looked over at me, and there was a pointed intensity in his gaze.
“I love you, Dad,” he finished.
We drank to Korbin Nielson, and to happiness, and life, and pretty much anything else we could think of. The sun went down gradually, and pretty soon it was too dark for us to see. It was getting cold too, but I did not want to rush Kyler. He was keeping the ashes, but I knew this was the final goodbye for him, at least emotionally.
We stayed until nightfall, trading stories about L.A. and Jess filling in Kyler about his favorite shows and something she called ‘the TL’.
Eventually, we started to get hungry, and Kyler declared he was finally ready to leave. We s
topped for burgers and fries, and then we drove Jess home.
“Walk me to the door?” she prompted as I pulled up to the building she lived in.
I stepped out of the car and walked around to her side of the car. I knew she wanted to speak privately with me. I wondered if I was about to get the final verdict on what she thought of me. When we got to the door, she turned to me and threw her hands around me. It was an odd hug, open but strangely formal.
“Thank you for everything, Saul,” she said. “You’ve been there for Kyler all through this, even when I could not.”
“Of course, Jess. He’s my husband.”
There was an unmistakable note of pride in my voice. Oddly, the statement caused her face to harden.
“Is he, though?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know about the contract, Saul. I know what you’re doing. Now, as I was saying, I’m grateful for all you’ve done for Kyler. But please don’t get his hopes up and then shatter them like I know you’re going to.”
Her eyes were defiant, her mouth a hard line.
“I don’t know who you take me for, Jess. I care about Kyler.”
“I know all about you, Saul McCormick. Kyler loves you. He’s in love with you. If your plan is to string him along and then dump him once you’ve gotten what you want from him, then you’ll have to answer to me.”
It seemed so comical, that I was being threatened by this slip of a girl. But I couldn’t fault her for it. I knew where she was coming from. There was a sliver of truth in what she was saying.
“I would never do that to him, Jess,” I told her. I wanted so much for her to understand what Kyler meant to me.
“Do you love him?” she asked, and there was fire in her eyes.
I opened my mouth, defiant, and then closed it. I did not have to explain myself to her. Or anyone else, really. I bit back the retort that had sprung to my lips.
“I would never hurt him,” I said. I knew I sounded evasive and unconvincing.
Jess shook her head and turned to open her door. Everything about her expression said she did not believe me.
“Well, when you break his heart, just know you’ll have to deal with me.”
It was a sad note to end the evening on. Her words rang in my ears as I walked back to the car. Kyler noticed my changed mood as soon as I got in.
“Everything okay?” he asked as we drove off.
“Of course,” I replied, injecting my voice with false cheeriness.
“What were you two whispering about? If she told you about the time we made out, I was drunk and it did not go beyond that.”
I smiled.
“No, I was just talking to her about photography. Thought I’d put her in contact with some of the people I know in the business, assuming they’re still in business.”
“Oh. That’s nice of you. But then you’re a sweetheart, so no surprises there.”
And that made me feel even worse. It was as if Jess had reopened a fault in our lives I had ignored long enough to convince myself did not exist. But there it was. A reminder that everything we had built was based on a lie. That no matter what happened, we were still tied together by a selfish contract. I did not want to think about it, but I knew my feelings had definitely changed. It seemed like a lifetime ago when the only thing I was worrying about was money. Now, the greater concern for me was Kyler, and his happiness.
17
Kyler
I once read somewhere that the worst thing about death was how it robbed your life of color. It was incredibly accurate. I had experienced loss before, but nothing like this. It felt like there was a deep well of feeling inside me, a gaping pit of hopelessness that would never be filled. I understood now that death was not something you got over. You just learned to live with your pain, smiling to show the rest of the world that you were fine when really you were breaking inside.
I found that the things that used to give me joy didn’t anymore. Things I once found exciting were now dull. Everything seemed pointless. I hated it, but the routine I had fallen in love with I now approached with dread. And that wasn’t the worst thing. It seemed Saul was doomed to be a casualty of my misery. In spite of my efforts, and my promises to my dad.
Our days were quieter now. We spent almost all day indoors. I wasn’t sure if my disinterest was rubbing off on him, but he seemed content to stay in bed with me, or while away the hours on the deck watching the sun crawl through the sky. He still held me, even if it wasn’t always sexual. I still slept in his arms. If anything, our routine had become so efficient we did not need to speak. Breakfast, reading, movie marathon, lounging out by the deck, dinner, cuddling and sleeping. It was like we were on autopilot.
I knew he was watching me. It wasn’t that he was tiptoeing around me; he seemed to have decided to give me space, and I loved him for it. But it also made me feel like I was being a bad husband.
My passion for him had not dimmed. It was still there, snoozing just beneath the surface. Once or twice I got the old rush of blood to the head, and I missed the feeling of him inside me. He would be prancing around the house in his sweatpants, which left nothing to the imagination, and I would picture myself going to him, pulling them down and riding him into oblivion. Or he would be coming from the shower, his body glistening, his manhood hanging thick and heavy between his legs, and I would be sorely tempted to take him into my mouth. But I could not bring myself to do it. It felt wrong, somehow. Tomorrow, I told myself. I would try harder tomorrow. But tomorrow I would wake up, and the first thing I would remember was the sight of my dad in that hospital bed, and the feeling of emptiness would return.
I was determined to snap out of the rut, however. I knew the block was mostly mental, so I spent most days trying to talk some sense into myself. This is not what Dad would have wanted, I would remind myself. You have so much more to be happy about. Saul is still here. Anyone else would have left you to deal with your moping on your own.
Relief came in the strangest little way. Towards the end of the month, Saul told me we were running out of supplies, and while he usually had them delivered right to the house, he thought it would be a good idea to make a trip of it and go collect them ourselves.
“We’re going shopping?” I asked, stunned. My voice was hoarse and cracked from disuse.
“It’s more of a pick-up, but yeah, think of it as shopping.”
I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to. It was a chance to get out of the house, and a chance to spend some time with Saul outside our little bubble. It would also be the first time he was taking me outside the house and its environs, away from the mountain and its many attractions.
We packed a small lunch, as Saul had the grand idea to turn it into a picnic as well. We were to drive to the edge of the town, the exact point where civilization ended and the mountains began. We set out early. It felt good to feel the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. My hair had been getting increasingly wild, so I had given it a bit of a trim. Saul had given it the once over and nodded in approval. I felt like I was waking up after a very bad dream
It was strange to think that there was life just half an hour away from us. Redvale was easy to ignore, being nestled between the mountains and the lake on one side. It was mostly a collection of small shops, most of them family owned, dating back years ago. Saul didn’t even bother with the tour. We headed straight for the main dock by the lakeside and picked up two large crates, which took up the trunk and most of the back seat.
“And now we take the scenic route back,” Saul announced, right before plunging into a small opening in the edge of the woods and speeding down a path I had not seen before.
It was all new. There were clearly parts of the region I was yet to explore, and that excited me. It was good to have something to look forward to doing. We drove for a few minutes, then pulled up next to a natural clearing overlooking the lake, deciding it would be a good place to set up the picnic. It was strange to imagine this was the same
lake we saw when we were on the other side, at home.
I noticed him then. I thought I had seen a car trailing us as we left the dock, but I had assumed I was imagining it. Now, though, there was a silhouette half-hidden in the trees, and I was sure we had been followed.
Saul had not noticed him yet. He was rummaging in the trunk for a blanket. I watched the man surreptitiously, wondering if perhaps he was just a tourist like us. Something glinted in his hand, the morning sun reflecting off what I assumed was a camera.
“Saul…” I called out. Even then I was still hoping the stranger was just some tourist who had stumbled into the clearing and had the same idea as we did.
Saul poked his head from around the back of the car. I pointed silently, and his gaze followed the direction I was indicating, until he spotted the man in the trees.
The warmth left his eyes immediately.
“Get in the car, Kyler,” he said to me. His voice was harsh, his tone commanding and uncompromising.
“What? Why?”
“Now, Kyler.”
I was puzzled at his behavior, but the authority in his voice was unmistakable. I lifted a foot and began to climb into the car.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!”
The man had emerged from the trees, and he was now walking boldly towards us. I looked over at Saul, my foot still suspended in midair. His face had grown even colder when the man had spoken. He watched him approach, Saul’s features slowly contorting into a mask of disdain I had never seen on him.
I turned to look at the man, wondering who he was and why he elicited such a reaction from Saul. He was tall and well-built. Thick muscles strained the black t-shirt he was wearing. He had short brown hair and a perfectly angled face, ending in a strong chin that was dotted with stubble. He smiled when he got to us. He looked over at me once, from head to toe, and it was hard to miss the judgment in his expression.
“Really?” he spat. “Him?”
He was speaking to Saul. They definitely knew each other, though I had no idea how or where from.
