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The rest of the summer, Dylan spent more time at the Norse house or in the Gibson garage than he did at the Donaldson home. Aside from when Tyler and the band were traveling. His cousins didn’t seem to mind letting him wander off from Church on Wednesdays anymore. Afterwards, Auntie Z was usually waiting, hands on hips and looking annoyed. But, for all his tweaking of her commands, he otherwise remained clean and sober. As September loomed closer, Dylan was communicating with Stuart Leeman about the now named Leeman Foundation Art Program and preparing to not only tutor other young artists but also to be tutored by Leeman. He would never admit it, but he was looking forward to fall except for one thing.
He was softening when it came to Tyler. He hated to admit it, especially to the man himself, but he was falling. Hard. And Tyler was so open with his own feelings! It was getting more and more difficult to hold it together. To cut the tie cleanly. And finally, it was there: His last night in in Tynan. He was starting at the Carnegie School for the Gifted the following Monday; a tuition-free private school. Stuart Leeman had set it as his base of operations for the Leeman Foundation.
“We can’t put off talking about this anymore.”
“I know.”
They were at their spot in the grove, knowing it would probably be the last time they’d sit there together. For a while at least. The pond was quiet. The weather was still warm but the threat of fall was brewing. It was cooling as the sun sunk lower in the sky, sunset still a few hours off.
“What are we going to do?” Tyler was keeping space between them from where they perched on the back tailgate of the truck. They overlooked the pond in its quiet sereneness.
“I don’t know.”
“You know how I feel about it,” Tyler told him. “I love you. I want you.”
Dylan sighed. “Tyler, I don’t know when I’ll get to see you. And we’re both busy. I don’t want to hold you back.”
“Do you love me?” Tyler asked. It was the first time he’d pressed for an answer. He told Dylan every chance he got. Dylan had never reciprocated.
“I—” The words caught in Dylan’s throat. Finally, he managed to get something out. “I like being with you.”
“That wasn’t my question,” Tyler’s voice went a little hard. “Do you love me?”
“Maybe,” Dylan admitted. “I don’t know what that means, Tyler.”
“When you think of a future without me, what’s there?” Tyler asked.
Dylan was unmoved. “The same things that were there before you, with a new school. New friends.”
“No, that’s your future, regardless. What is it like if I’m not there at all?”
“Horrible,” Dylan offered, “but I don’t know that it’s really that bad. I haven’t tried it.”
“I don’t want to break up with you because it might not be horrible,” Tyler continued. “Dyl, my life will be empty without you here. To talk to, sleep next to, goof off with.”
“We aren’t breaking up. We’re not a couple. I can’t change that. I’m going back to New York.”
“And I can’t change that we’re a signed band and our new producer could ask us to move at any minute.”
“You can record anywhere.”
“I know that,” Tyler admitted. “I can record in New York.”
“I don’t want to make you and your friends move, just so we can be closer. That isn’t fair to them. They have lives that don’t revolve around us fucking around.”
“No one said anything about making them.”
“Ty,” Dylan sighed. “I want this to work out, I do. But you’ve said it before, I’m just a kid. You’re older and you deserve more than whatever the hell we’ve been doing.”
“Isn’t that something I should decide for myself?”
“True,” he admitted, “but aren’t you clouded because you think what we have together is good?”
“It is good,” Tyler told him. “You just don’t want to admit it.”
“It’s not a good idea to keep whatever this is between us,” Dylan stated. “In six months, you won’t even remember who the hell I am. I’ll just be that guy you spent that summer with whom had a nice house.”
Tyler sounded exasperated, “I can’t talk you into trying to make this work?”
“No.”
“Fuck.” Tyler gripped the tailgate and stared out over the pond.
“I’m sorry—” Dylan started to reach for him but Tyler hopped to the ground.
“I better get you home. You probably have a lot packing to do.”
“I don’t leave until tomorrow,” Dylan told him. “We could spend the night together.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Tyler shoved his hands into his pocket. “It’s just going to be that much harder.”
Dylan nodded, feeling the tears sting at the back of his eyes. He refused to cry; at least not in front of Tyler. The coldness that was rolling off him wasn’t unwarranted, he decided. That didn’t make it any easier to accept. He got down from the tailgate and went to the passenger door while Tyler went around to the driver’s side. The drive back into town was completely silent. Dylan tried to open his mouth to say something several times but he wasn’t sure what he could say. Other than to give in, to try and fix what was happening between them. Ultimately, he had made his decision. Tyler wasn’t his to keep. End of story.
“Wait.” Tyler reached for him before letting him escape from the silence of the truck. They’d been parked at the house for nearly a full minute. Dylan couldn’t make his fingers pul the latch on the door.
“What?” Dylan turned back, letting himself look up at Tyler. Big mistake. Tyler’s eyes were obviously holding back the tears too, misting at the edges.
“Take this.” Tyler reached across and opened the glove box. He pulled out one of the CD’s from a stash there. “We were, ah, playing around in the studio the other day. It’s a rough copy, but it’s for you.” He thrust a blue jewel case with a plain silver disk at Dylan. “I’ll send you the final album when it’s finished. Track three is the song I wrote that weekend we went to the city to see your parents. I wrote it for you.”
“Oh.” Dylan wasn’t sure what to say. He’d never had a guy write him a song before. There wasn’t exactly a social protocol for it. “I don’t have anything for you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I just wanted you to have it.”
“Tyler,” Dylan sighed, “it isn’t as though we can never see each other again. And maybe after I graduate, something can happen, but...” he fidgeted in his seat, shifting sideways. “I don’t know what to say to make you lose that look. Like I just kicked a puppy or something.”
“I’m fine,” Tyler told him, stoic. “And you’re right, we’ll see each other again.”
“Whenever you’re in New York, call me. You have my number. And any other reason. I do care about you.” Dylan reached up, pressing his palms to Tyler’s face. “I’m still figuring shit out, Ty. I don’t want to hold you back.”
“You wouldn’t.” Tyler took his wrists in hand, brushing his thumbs over the pulse points and making Dylan shiver.
“This would be so much easier if I was pissed off at you,” Dylan attempted levity. “You’re going to find someone else, Tyler. Someone better than me. Someone who has their shit together.”
“Maybe,” Tyler didn’t take the bait. “You’ll always be special.”
“I’ll always be a friend,” Dylan countered.
“I know.” Tyler nodded. “I wanted us to be something more.”
“It’s not going to happen. Not right now anyway.”
Tyler had already broken every other rule he’d mentally laid out in his head since they’d gotten in the truck. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dylan’s for what he was sure would be the last time. Dylan seemed to melt into him. He felt the hot tears start to bead down their faces.
“Shit, this is embarrassing.” Dylan wiped at his face as they pulled apart.
Tyler smirked, doing the same. “Tell me about it.”
“I better go.” Dylan slid back across the seat, picking the CD back up. “Call or text me whenever.”
“I will,” Tyler nodded.
Dylan felt there were still a million things he wanted to say, but time was running out. Any longer and they wouldn’t be able to part amicably. He backed out of the truck, closing the door firmly. Then he stepped back into the yard and watched as Tyler steered the old rust bucket toward home.
***
The next morning, Dylan packed. Sarah made herself comfortable in the bay window, watching him fold things into the extra-large suitcase he’d arrived with, three months before. Plus, a large duffle bag he’d had to acquire to fit everything else he’d somehow accumulated.
“You want any of this?” Dylan asked picking up the plastic sandwich bag he’d stored all the jewelry he’d slowly stopped wearing. The only things he kept on were the Crest ring, the Tiffany Emerald, and one basic silver chain with a guitar charm. Tyler had brought it back with him from his trip to Milwaukee.
“Really?” She took the bag and opened it to poke through its contents. “Some of this stuff looks pretty expensive.”
“Might be,” Dylan admitted. “I was probably under the influence when I bought most of it. Or it was given to me. Or I took it.”
“Took it?”
Dylan looked at her with a direct stare as he folded one of his shirts against his chest. “That’s what I said.”
“Like stole it? From a store?”
“More likely a dresser or a jewelry box. Like a trophy.” He raised one eyebrow at her.
Her eyes widened slightly with understanding. “Like a sex thing?”
He snorted and then laughed, “Sarah, I love how naïve you can be. Don’t ever lose that.”
She blushed. “Sorry.”
“What have I told you about apologizing? What are you really sorry for?”
She sighed; they had had this same conversation a dozen times over the course of the summer. “For being myself.”
“And what should you never be sorry for?”
“For being myself.”
“Good. You are listening.”
“I don’t know if I should take these.” She cradled the bag in her hand. “I mean, I don’t think Mom would let me wear them if she knew where they came from.”
“That they came from me or that some of them might have belonged to some other guy’s girlfriend before I slept with him?”
“Err,” she stumbled, “both of those?”
“Then give them to your friends or stick them in the collection plate at church. I don’t want them.” Dylan took an assessing look around the room. Most of his clothes were packed, but he had a stack of sketchbooks sitting on one of the chairs, and a couple of gift bags on the desk.
He picked up the sketchbooks, sticking them underneath some of his jeans, and then pulled the last of his socks out of the dresser. Sarah poked through the bag of jewelry some more, pulling out a large gold chain with a gaudy looking opal imbedded in a silver base.
“I kind of like this one.”
“That’ll look nice on you,” he glanced up at her, “with that purple dress you have.”
“You think so?” She dropped the pendant over her head and looked down at her. “It’s probably a little much for every day.”
“Never stopped me,” Dylan sadmitted. He crossed to the dresser, double-checking that the drawers were completely empty.
“Yeah, but you have the confidence to pull off a trash bag,” Sarah teased him. “Are you excited to get back to New York?”
“More excited to not be here anymore,” he admitted. “No offense to you.”
She shrugged. “It’s fine. I know Mom can be, well, horrible.”
“I still say it’s a miracle you and Pete are normal,” Dylan replied. “And you know, you can come visit me in New York whenever you want.”
She snorted. “As if my mother would let me stay, unaccompanied, in your ‘den of sin’.”
They both snorted in amusement at that. Dylan crossed to pick up one of the bags from the desk.
“Here, this is for you. A thank you for putting up with me the last couple of months.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” Sarah took the bag, staring down into the white tissue paper. “What is it?”
“Well open it,” he rolled his eyes. “And I did. I was an ass. Especially the first couple of weeks. You were great at helping me avoid Aunt Zoe. So, thanks for that. And just generally being a great cousin. I know we don’t get to hang out often, but you’re actually pretty cool, Sarah.”
She blushed again, pulling the tissue out of the bag and pulling out a small frame. “Is that me?”
“Yeah. It’s just a sketch I did that day I couldn’t escape from the Youth Group,” he told her. “You can shove it in a drawer or something. But I thought you should have it.”
“I love it.” She got up, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And I will come visit. Whether my mother likes it or not.”
“Good.” He patted her on the shoulder. “I look forward to it. But, you know, call or text first.”
She swatted him in the arm. “Are you about done packing then?”
“Yeah, I think that was the last of it.”
“What time is your ride getting here?”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket to look at the time, “ETA is about forty-five minutes.”
“Is Tyler coming over to say goodbye?”
“I don’t think so.” Dylan pulled away from her to go and zip the suitcase.
“Did something happen?”
“We said our goodbyes last night,” Dylan answered.
“Did you break up?”
“We weren’t a couple, Sarah,” he explained. “It was a mutual decision to stop sleeping together every time we see one another.”
“Sounds like a break-up to me.”
“There are plenty of ex-couples who still regularly sleep together,” Dylan retorted. “Help me carry these into the entryway?”
“Okay.” Sarah tucked the frame back into the gift bag. She set it down where she’d been sitting before hefting the duffle bag over her shoulder. She shuffled after Dylan out of the bedroom.
“You’re all packed then?” Zoe stood, arms crossed per usual, in the doorway of the living room as they passed.
“Yes.” Dylan set the suitcase down next to the door. “I just have to grab my messenger bag.”
“How long until your ride is here?”
“Probably about a half-hour,” he didn’t bother checking his phone again.
“Is the Norse boy coming over to say goodbye?”
“No, we said goodbye last night.”
She hummed, dropping her arms slightly. “You didn’t eat breakfast. There are pancakes in the oven if you’re hungry.”
“I’m fine, thanks.” Dylan shoved his hands into his pockets. “Uh, I have something for you and Uncle Milton.”
She looked surprised and rather suspicious. Dylan ducked back into the bedroom. He returned a minute later with his messenger bag over his shoulder, and the two gift bags that had been resting on the desk.
“This one is for you,” he handed her the larger of the two bags. “Thanks for...” he wasn’t really sure what it was he was giving her the gift for. The only bright spots in the summer had revolved around Tyler. But, he supposed, if he hadn’t been allowed to come, he never would have met him. “Thanks for putting up with me. I know this wasn’t your idea of a great summer.” He looked her square in the eye. “But, despite your best efforts, I had a really good time.”
Zoe frowned at him, reaching into the bag. Inside, she found another frame; though slightly larger.
“I used the family photo from the mantle for reference, but I tried to include your more recent features,” Dylan explained.
“I-it’s lovely.” It was the first time he’d actually seen her speechless in a seemingly good way.
“It’s a cheap frame so feel free to replace it with something nicer,” he continued. “I have something for Pete, but he’s not back from that retreat thing until tonight.” He handed over the other gift bag. “I trust you’ll see that he gets it.”
“Yes,” she agreed. She pulled herself back together, slipping the drawing back into the gift bag. She took Pete’s bag. “Thank you. What a wonderful gift.”
“You’re welcome. But that astonished look on your face is all the thanks I need.”
“I had no idea you were so talented, Dylan.”
“It’s a way to pass the time.”
She opened her mouth to speak again, but decided against it. In her floundering, Sarah cut between them.
“Look, he did a sketch for me too,” She held out the small frame he’d given her.
“It’s beautiful,” Zoe admitted.
“I think I’m going to go wait outside.” Dylan adjusted the strap of his bag.
“You’re sure you don’t want breakfast?”
“No thanks,” he declined, “I don’t have too much longer.”
Zoe gave him a nod. “Safe travels, then. Tell your parents I said hello.”
“Will do.”
“I’ll help you carry your stuff out,” Sarah offered. “And keep you company.”
Together, they carried his bags outside onto the walk. They sat side by side on the steps. It was warm, but there was a nice breeze. One of the neighbors was out mowing their lawn. The scent of fresh-cut grass wafted throughout the neighborhood.
“Are you sure you don’t want to see Tyler again before you leave?” Sarah asked. She picked at the raw edge of her cut-off shorts. “Mom is too flabbergasted to say anything if you ask him to stop by.”
“It's best if I don’t,” Dylan said. “I don’t think we could say goodbye twice.”
“Why say it at all? New York isn’t that far away.”
“He deserves better.”
“Well,” she stretched her arms out in front of her, “I’m always rooting for the two of you. You made a really cute couple; even if he wasn’t your boyfriend.”
Dylan gave her his best wry smile. “Thanks.”
“Although,” she continued, “I guess you might meet someone better at your new school. It’s full of brainiacs, right?”
“Talented Youth, I believe is the wording in the brochure,” he corrected.
“Right, right. Plus, it would be good for you to date someone your own age, you know?”
“We’ll have to see what happens, huh?” He knocked his shoulder into hers. “What about you? There’s gotta be someone on your radar, right?”
“Pfft,” Sarah rolled her eyes,“all the boys at school know my mother, so unless we suddenly have an influx of new kids, it’s highly unlikely.”
Dylan sucked in a breath between his teeth, “Yeah. That’s probably your only option. Or waiting till college.”
“Screw that!” She exclaimed. “My life is boring enough as it is.”
“When you visit, we’ll find you a nice guy,” Dylan promised. “I’ll keep an eye out for you in the meantime.”
“Thaaaaanks,” she drawled. “Not sure I completely trust your straight guy judgement, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
“You’re probably right,” Dylan admitted. “But I’ll do it anyway.”
She laughed and looked up at the street as a black sedan parked at the curb. “I guess your ride is here.”
“Yep,” he nodded. He waited for a moment as Dakota got out of the driver’s seat, coming around the front of the car. “Hey Dakota.”
“Hello, Mr. Montgomery,” he nodded at him. “Just the two bags?”
“Yes,” Dylan nodded.
“I’ll load them in while you finish your goodbyes.” Dakota lifted the luggage as though they were filled with nothing and went to the trunk of the car.
“I guess this is it then.” Dylan pushed himself up from the step. “It wasn’t actually as terrible as I thought it would be.”
“Any time.” Sarah stood up. She paused for just a moment before throwing her arms around his neck. “I’m glad you survived it. I know this isn’t the most exciting place on earth.”
Dylan gave in, wrapping his arms around her waist. “No, it isn’t. But, hey; I made it through three months without a single drop of alcohol or any drugs. And trust me, it is not as hard to find in this town as Z wants to think it is.”
“Tell me about it,” Sarah snorted. “She is so jaded.”
Dylan laughed again, giving her one last squeeze before they separated. “All right. I better go then. Mom wants to take me shopping this afternoon.”
“Have a safe drive.”
“You should probably tell Dakota that. He drives like a maniac. I think it’s left over from Humvee driving in Iraq.”
“Then make sure you wear your seatbelt,” she teased. “Text me sometime?”
“Of course,” he nodded, “and I’ll see you soon. Thanksgiving, maybe?”
“It’s a date,” she agreed. “See you then.”
Dylan moseyed down to the car where Dakota was standing with the back door open for him. After he was secured inside, Dakota got back behind the wheel.
“No Tyler?” He asked, looking up at him in the rearview mirror.
“No,” Dylan sighed. “Why do people keep asking me about him today?”
Dakota let out of a low whistle, “Sorry sir. Music?”
“Whatever is fine,” Dylan replied. “I just want to get home.”
“Understood,” Dakota tapped at the phone attached to the dash. A moment later, a deep bass filled the car. Dylan turned to look out the window. Sarah waved from the front door as the car pulled away.
“Hey, uh, could you go up Third street, then loop back around to Main?” Dylan asked.
“Sure?” Dakota shrugged. “Any reason?”
“I, uh, just want one last look of the neighborhood. Tynan is actually a pretty nice place, you know?”
“Right.” Dakota obviously didn’t believe him, but wasn’t going to press.
He turned the car up the next street. Dylan kept his eyes out the window as they passed by Heath’s house. The garage door was open. Joy’s Prius was parked in the driveway. Dakota didn’t slow and he couldn’t hear anything over the music, but he caught one last glimpse of the three men, already practicing in the late morning, as they drove by.