CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE – NOVA

 

He didn’t tell me where we were going. And the reason he didn’t tell me is because he knows I don’t want to be here.

I want to be anywhere, but here.

Travis reaches for me as we enter the town.

My town.

His town.

Our hometown.

It’s… dead. Like people just packed up and walked away. It was never big. Not even in my little-girl mind. It was always a very small place. Just two intersections, really. That’s it.

And all of it is closed down. Dead things, everywhere. Dead laundromat. Dead bar. Even a dead post office. When the post office packs their bags, you know you’re town is really dead.

We crawl down the street in the rented red pick-up truck. And I know where he’s going even though it’s not even there anymore.

The Dairy Queen is just an old abandoned building with boarded-up windows. And when he turns into the parking lot, I hold my breath.

Because I don’t know if this was real or not.

Then Travis is reaching for my hand. Squeezing it. Pulling me towards him. I crawl over the center console and sit on his lap.

I put my head on his shoulder, still unsure if it was real.

And then I just… cry.

Because it was.

 

 

The next time I look up the sun is low in the sky and the day is almost over.

“Done now?” Travis asks.

I nod, then slip off his lap and back over into my own seat. “Can we go?”

He looks at me with the saddest face I’ve ever seen. “No, Bugs. Not yet. You gotta make one more stop.”

“I don’t want to.”

He reaches out and touches my cheek with the back of his hand. It’s such a gentle touch, I instantly want to climb back in his lap. “Nova.” He says my name in a serious tone. “If you leave here without going home, you will never get your life back.”

“I don’t think that’s true. I think I’m just fine. I don’t need that place. I don’t—“

He puts his fingertips up to my lips. Hushing me. “You do. The fantasy is over. You need to face reality. And we’re not leaving until you do.”

 

 

So that is how he gets me to the trailer park on the far east edge of town. I’m secretly hoping there’s nothing left. But this place was a shithole fifteen years ago. When people packed up and decided to leave, the whole point was to leave these trailers behind.

There’s a gate, so we have to get out of the truck and walk around it. Walk around all the debris that was our childhood.

We come up to his trailer first. It’s only got two walls. He pauses, closes his eyes, and goes silent for about thirty seconds.

Then he opens them again and nods at me. “OK. I’m good.’

“What did you just do?”

“I gave thanks.”

“For what?” I don’t mean to scoff out the words, but that’s how it happens.

Travis shoots me a sad look. And this is when I remember that he prayed that night at dinner. He took my hand and prayed.

That’s what he was doing just now.

Thanking God for this…

“It wasn’t good,” Travis says. Pulling me out of my thoughts. “Not even close to good. But ya know what?”

I shake my head no, because I have no clue.

“This place gave me you. That’s what I’m thankful for.”

I can’t swallow, let alone speak. So I just nod and try to keep the tears from spilling out of my eyes.

He offers me his hand and we continue our journey. Deeper into the trailer park.

When we get to the end, there it is.

Yellow. Just like I remember it.

But this place… it’s bad.

“Wanna see something?”

I look up at Travis and nod. Because I don’t want to look at this trailer.

“Come on.” He tugs on my hand. “I’ll show you one good thing. Then we can leave.”

“There’s nothing good here.” I mumble this out as he leads me around the side of the trailer.

“Wrong, Bugs. There’s this.” And he points to the rusted siding of the trailer’s backside.

For a moment, I can’t really make out the image. It’s a drawing. Spray-painted in red. But then I see the letters and I smile.

“Bugs,” Travis says. Then he pushes an overgrown branch aside and reveals the rest of it. And then we’re both smiling.

Because it says Bugs plus Travis.

BFF’s forever.

We stand in front of it and take a selfie. Then he kisses me.

Hands on my face, kisses me. Open-mouthed and slow. Just the way we like it.

And this is when I know—I’m never going to see Travis Olsen again.

Because it’s a real, honest-to-god goodbye kiss.

When we break apart he says one more thing to me. He says, “Don’t punish Mercer.”

“What? What do you mean? I’m not punishing Mercer.”

“You are, Nova. You just don’t know it yet.”

“He won’t live with us.” Then I huff. And pout a little. Because that’s not true. “He won’t live with me, Travis. He won’t.”

“He’s doing his best to adjust. Has he ever lived anywhere but with those people? I don’t know where he came from, and he sure as hell doesn’t either. But it’s gotta be hard to walk away like that. You need to give him time.”

“I am giving him time.”

“No. you’re giving him space. He doesn’t need space, Nova. He needs acceptance.”

 

 

Mercer’s new house is only four-point-six- miles away from my farm, but it’s too far. And the time it takes to drive over there this afternoon feels like an eternity.

I park my Suburban in front of his house. It’s not as dramatic as the one on the island. Or pretentious as the one in Boston. But it’s earthy and has a Seventies vibe going. Mercurial and odd, made of large wood beams and forest-green colored siding, it’s a cross between split-level Brady Bunch and a ghost-town cabin.

It suits him.

I have a key, but I already know the door is unlocked, so I go inside. He’s sitting in a chair in front of the window facing the thickly forested back yard.

He looks over his shoulder at me when I enter. And I wonder if he just sits here all day long. Because I’ve come in on him like this several times now, and he’s always sitting in that chair facing the window.

I wasn’t sure that Travis knew what he was talking about when he told me to accept Mercer the way he is, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

He’s not going to get over this.

He’s not.

Not without help.

He’s going to die in this chair. He’s going to wither away and just die.

And that’s not going to happen.

“Hey,” I say. Slipping my shoes off. It’s wet outside and I don’t want to track mud across his hand-scraped wood floors.

He lazily drags his gaze away from the window and almost managed to focus on me. “What’s up?”

My heart started breaking for him back in West Virginia. It was just a little crack though.

Now? Now it’s feeling shattered.

“I’ve been thinking about something.”

He gets up, pulls another chair over to his, then points to it and sits back down. “Join me. Tell me.”

I walk over to him, but I do not sit in the chair. “Stand up.”

“What?” That one eyebrow goes up. And if nothing else, I’ve piqued his curiosity.

“You heard me. Stand up.”

“Why?”

“If you stand up, you’ll see.”

He sighs, stands back up, and kinda flops his arm at me. “Now what?”

“Take off your coat.”

He tilts his head at me. “Why?”

“Because I want your coat. And for fuck’s sake, Mercer. A suit?”

“There’s nothing wrong with my suit.” He slips his arms out of the coat and hands it to me. I take it and fold it neatly across my arm. He’s right, of course. His suit is very nice. And him inside this suit is the definition of handsome.

“What do you wear to bed?”

“Why do you want to know that?”

“Because I’m trying to picture you in pajama pants and can’t quite muster that image up. I think you sleep in a suit.”

By now, he is catching on that I’m playing with him. I know he’s catching on because his shoulders visibly relax. “I sleep naked. Can you muster that one up?”

I smile and nod. Then I take the suit coat, open it up, and place it on the floor right in front of his chair.

His smirk falters as he looks at the coat, then back up at me. “What are you doing?”

“Loving you, Mercer. I’m loving you. Now stop asking so many questions and sit down.”

He hesitates. Perhaps factoring in what Locke might think about this.

“He knows,” I say. “I told him I was coming over here.”

Mercer stares at me. Then my lips. Then me again. “You don’t have to do this, Nova. I’m fine.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But you’re not fine, Mercer. You’re faltering. And this is what one does right before they fall.” I slowly shake my head at him. “There is no fucking way I will let you fall now. Not after all that shit we went through to get here. Fuck that. You will. Not. Fall. So sit down in the chair so I can make myself comfortable.”

I think I can hear his heartbeat.

Or maybe that’s mine.

He sits.

And I lower myself to the floor between his legs.

This isn’t submission.

What I’m doing has nothing to do with submission.

It’s just love.

He needs this. He needs to keep a part of himself.

And I need to be the one who helps him do that.

So I place my cheek on his thigh, and his fingers automatically begin playing with my hair, and we both let out a long sigh.

Like… maybe it’s over.

But also like… maybe this is just another new beginning.

Then I close my eyes and I know that he knows.

No matter what happens next, I will accept him just the way he is.