Gravel crunches under my feet as I walk toward the house. Barking carries into the cool, pine-filled air.
A woman opens the front door. She’s in an oversized sweatshirt and jeans. I pull out my ponytail and let my hair cover my neck. Just in case.
“Hi,” I call out. “Are you Leah? We spoke on the phone. I’m Valerie.”
Leah shakes my hand. “Good to meet you. Find the place all right?”
“Yes, the directions you gave were perfect. Thank you.”
She leads me through the house and into an expansive backyard. The dogs swarm me, sniffing and nosing my hands. Leah points to a smaller pen where the puppies are kept.
“There are three males and two females up for sale. You were looking for a male, right?”
“That’s right.”
The puppies are so adorable it hurts. They bounce around the yard, yipping and following one another. Leah catches my smile.
“Yeah, they’re cute as buttons. Great parents, too. AKC certified, both of them. Let’s see—the ones with purple, green, and yellow ribbons are males.”
Yellow catches my eye first. He’s a feisty one that never stops moving. Purple joins him, and they yap and skip with each other a while. Two of their sisters—Pink and Red—join in on the fun.
The last of the puppies whines by the door of their shed, his nose poking into the air. It’s a short step, maybe five inches, down to the dirt. He sticks out a paw tentatively. He waggles it around a moment then tumbles forward. Green gets up quickly and scampers toward his siblings.
Leah lets me wander around the pen, picking up and snuggling with each, but Green’s won my heart. He squirms in my arms and I wince—the scar in my side isn’t quite done healing—as Leah gets out the paperwork. I sign my name, pay her the adoption fee, and head out to the car.
“I’ll call in a couple days, in case you have any trouble with him.”
“Thank you. I think we’ll be fine.”
Nianna opens the car door, and I set the puppy in her lap. “Holy shit, he’s cute.”
“You should have come in and seen the others.”
She pulls him closer as I start the car. “What’re you gonna name him?”
“I don’t know yet.” I flick on my turn signal and get on the main road. It’ll be another two hours back to Berkeley. At least for now, the puppy seems content to turn around and around in Nianna’s lap. He whines a little, then settles down.
“Do you think he’ll ever come back?” I ask her. “Jax.”
“Honestly? No.”
No one’s seen Jax since that night four months ago. No one has any other numbers for him, and Nianna said Theresa hasn’t returned her calls. Kate and Mako are gone, too, moved to his aunt’s house in Hawaii.
“It can get a little boring there,” Mako said when he told me his plan. “But I think we could use some boring. My family is so stoked to meet her.” Then, he showed me a small square box, winked, and slipped it back in his pocket.
Nothing has been easy, but I’ve done what I had to do to heal. I let go.
I cried until my eyes and body were so dry I swore I’d never be able to create tears again. I ran a fever for a day, and then ached for two more. I was wrecked for weeks. I only ate because Mom made me—even then, it was three bites at a time. I stayed in bed, slept as much as possible, and refused to open my blinds. I said goodbye to my brother, my first love, and Jax in one terrible, beautiful go.
Which isn’t to say I never think about it. I carry them with me—my golden three—when I’m at the grocery store picking up the oatmeal brand Dad likes, when I’m putting scar cream on my leg, and when I stare at my ceiling and listen to the trees rustle outside. They are my first thought when I wake, and I’ve learned to make that okay. I let them inspire me, push me from my bed to my floor and then, slowly, all the way up.
Jax was there for me, in the end. That’s why he took my gun with him. If they found him, it’d be him who shot Ty, and not me. That last part is the hardest to swallow, but I disconnect from it as much as I can. I had to. I was justified, wasn’t I? But even if all that is true, who am I, that I could kill someone? What kind of monster does that make me?
I’m enrolled in therapy, twice a week. It’s not the same place I went to for Leo, and I’m glad for it. Some days all I do is cry my eyes out. Other days I sit there and she talks to me, trying to coax out answers. I think it’s helping. At least Dr. Stauffer was in favor of me getting the puppy. She even said I could bring him to our sessions once he’s been trained. I know neither a dog nor therapy is a quick fix for the shit I’ve done, and the shit I’ve seen. But I owe it to everyone giving me a second chance to at least try. Matthew, Micah, Aure—they won’t ever get this opportunity to heal and change.
Lyla and I are on rocky ground. Despite my best efforts, the time apart seemed to create barriers between us. We’ve hung out—exploring Berkeley bookstores and quirky shops downtown—but it doesn’t feel like it did before. When she talks about books and classes and the cute guys in debate club, I find myself just nodding along. We lived in different worlds too long, but I haven’t given up, and make an effort to set up as many hangouts as I can.
Over in the passenger seat, Nianna keeps her hands around the puppy, scratching his ruff. She’s wearing more makeup now than I’ve ever seen on her: plum lipstick and a healthy smear of eyeliner. She is both herself and not herself, and I could ask her what brought on the change but decided it’s better I don’t. She’s living with some family friends, sleeping on their couch until she figures out what to do next.
“I like your shorter hair,” I say.
She tugs at a curl until it’s straight then lets go. “Thanks. I feel lighter.” She closes her eyes and scratches the puppy’s head again. “Every bit helps.”
When we pull up to the BART station, Nianna gets out of the car and secures the dog inside his crate in the backseat. Walking back to the window, she adjusts her backpack on her shoulders.
“Good luck with the fur baby.”
“Thanks,” I say. “See you Sunday?”
Nianna’s not too far from me—just a BART ride away in Oakland. We meet up here and there. Sometimes we get food. Other times we just drive. I thought it’d make it worse to stay in touch, but it helps. We both have a lot of rebuilding to do.
I feel the tension between Mom and Dad each time we all share a room. One child dead, and now me—a former gang member without a high school diploma. It’s less that they’re scared of me than that they’re unsure how to handle me. Part of why I joined the Wars was to make amends for my mistakes, but in doing so I’ve driven a wedge between my parents and me that refuses to budge. We’ve forgotten how to talk to one another, how to be a family. So I do everything I can to try to return to normal. I clean the house and have coffee with Mom in the mornings. I help with dinner and do the chores I did before. One evening over dinner, I mentioned going to the Philippines, and both of them lit up like stars.
“It has been years since I went,” Mom had said quietly, after a pause. “And my kuya has been begging me to come.”
“Let’s look at ticket prices after we eat,” Dad replied, taking her hand and giving me the most sincere smile I’d seen in weeks. The sight made me start sobbing on the spot, and my parents held me tightly until I calmed down. I’m living both our afters. Mine and Micah’s.
We’re planning to wait a few months at least, until the puppy is trained enough to be left with someone while we’re gone. But it’s going to happen, and I can’t wait.
I put the car into drive and give Nianna one last wave. I adjust the paper crane on the driver’s side dash.
“All right, Obin, let’s go home.”
The pup looks at me with kind eyes as water begins to come into mine. I let the tears fall as I turn toward the new house in Berkeley. Mom and Dad were as ready for a change of scenery as I was. Getting out of the city was one of the first things they suggested to me when I made my way home.
Moving out of SF was the first step. I don’t know how many more it’ll take for me to heal, but at least I’m climbing.
Through a gap in the trees, I spot a gray shield of fog rolling in from across the sea, ready to engulf San Francisco in its chilly protection. It won’t reach here, though. Here, there are trees and kinder winds, a chance of warm sun.
We’ll find it again, the sun.