Tovi says that if it’s going to be more than an hour, to let her know, because she’ll drive up and get me.
I don’t know how long it’s going to be. The bus driver has been taken to a clinic because he broke out in hives. Allergic reaction! Action, reaction. He probably ate a bad walnut. We’re all sitting on the bus, which is running, which seems kind of crazy, because it seems like any freaking yahoo could just go up there and drive it away.
The lady behind me is all, “Lord, no! Bus drivers falling over ill on a day like today…”
I totally agree with her. I will be with Tovi for like ten minutes before we have to go home. Oh well…
• • •
So, the morning after the Golden Rods concert (three of the old dudes in the band are actually named Rod—thus the porny name), I woke up to Andrew quietly digging in my bag, which was at my feet. Gus sawed logs on the foldaway. I could hear Tovi breathing in the bed. I blinked, then mumbled, “What are you doing?”
Andrew whispered, “I’m glad you’re awake. Will you come with me?”
“Uh-huh,” I said.
A couple of minutes later, we were walking in the opposite direction from the pier down the main road on Fort Myers Beach. (I think it’s Estrada Street or Estado or something.) The sun was just coming up, the sky all orange and purple, and the air was super still. We walked, totally quiet, down the side of the road (my flip-flops flapping on that broken shell-sand kind of gravel).
Andrew carried one of my black Under Armour T-shirts, which I’d packed so Jerri would believe I was headed to football camp. I figured he would soon throw it in the ocean.
After passing another couple of resorts, we came to a stretch of sort of shacks, except nicer. I guess one-story beach houses. The third one we came to, Andrew took a left onto the property, toward the beach. I followed him, although going onto private property made me very, very uncomfortable.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “This is Big Rod’s place.”
I nodded.
I followed him along the left side of the house. There was almost complete silence, except for the faint sound of the gulf lapping at the beach. Then a small dog with pointy ears came tearing down the sidewalk behind me. It circled Andrew, jumping up and down, wagging its tail.
“Hi, Brian,” Andrew said. “This is Brian Wilson, the dog,” he told me. Then the dog noticed me and realized I was a stranger and began barking like crazy and growling and hopping up and down. I sort of freaked and ran from him, saying, “Shit. Good dog. Crap!” because I’m sort of afraid of dogs, especially little ones, because they’re pretty quick.
I ran around the corner of the house, Brian Wilson on my tail, and right up to Big Rod, the big-assed singer from the Golden Rods. He was drinking a glass of orange juice, standing next to a round, white table with a bowl of bananas on it.
“Well, if it isn’t the famous Felton Reinstein,” he said. “Brian. Calm, pup.”
Brian Wilson sat down on his dog butt and sort of smiled at me.
“Hi,” I said. “Great show last night.”
“Thank you, sir. Fun times.”
Then Andrew came around the corner. “Morning, Big Rod. You mind if Felton comes out with us today?”
“Best news I’ve heard in a while.” Big Rod nodded. “Welcome to my cottage, son.”
“Thanks,” I said. I had no idea what ‘come out’ might mean. “What are we doing?” I asked.
“I’m trying to say good-bye,” Andrew said.
“To what?” I had a bolt of fear, because in health class we’d learned that one of the signs to look for in kids you think are suicidal is a penchant for dramatic good-byes and for giving their stuff away. Andrew was actually giving my stuff away…to the ocean (gulf)…but the behavior seemed kind of similar, right?
“To old ways of being,” he said.
“Oh. Okay.” Yeah, I didn’t know what he meant.
“Let’s do this,” Big Rod said. “I’ll row. There’s not much wind to work against today.”
A couple minutes later we were shoving a rowboat from Big Rod’s house across the beach toward the water. Brian Wilson tailed us, occasionally barking at me as I helped. We pushed the boat into the water, climbed in, and then Big Rod rowed us through these little waves out into the gulf.
The water was fairly still and the sun was low, so that the water reflected a dark, morning-sky blue. As far as I know, I’d never been on a boat (no memory of ships, boats, paddle boats, canoes, etc.). I grasped the side of the rocking thing as hard as I could.
To be honest, it didn’t seem that stable and I’m not the best swimmer.
“Dolphins to the right,” Big Rod nodded.
Holy crap, Aleah. Not more than fifty feet away, two giant dolphins bobbed up and down in the water, swimming on by. “That’s real? Those things are in here?” I said.
“Man, of course. They’re about the friendliest buggers around. Lot worse than dolphins out here,” Big Rod said.
“Pretty neat, huh?” Andrew said, smiling at me.
Rod rowed on in silence.
After we got out a couple of football fields from the shore, Big Rod said, “Don’t have a lot of time. Might as well do it, buddy.”
Andrew pulled my Under Armour shirt out of the cargo pocket of his shorts. Looked at me. Shrugged. Then said, “I throw this athletic shirt, my big brother’s stinky football shirt, into the great Gulf of Mexico to say once and for all and with complete peace: This shirt is not mine. I am not like Felton. I am not a great athlete. I am just me, Andrew Reinstein. Just some kid. And that’s okay. I embrace my fate.”
Then Andrew threw my shirt into the water.
“Man,” I said.
“I’ll get you another one,” Andrew said.
“That’s not it. I just don’t understand, Andrew.”
“Spill it, boy,” Big Rod said.
“Felton.” Andrew shook his head and paused like he didn’t want to say what he was going to say. “Nobody really knew you were alive before last year. My classmates mostly didn’t know I had a brother…and I liked it because I was just me, you know? I was just Andrew who played piano and was smart and kind of funny and that was very nice, in retrospect.”
“You just described yourself, Andrew. That’s who you are.”
“Yes. But…not anymore, really. Kids in gym class this spring started making fun of me for not being like you.”
“What? Who?”
“Some kids, just regular kids in my grade, make crap of me because I’m not fast like you. I trip over my own feet. I can’t catch. I throw, and I quote, ‘like a girl,’” Andrew said. “They mess with me at lunch…Do you understand?”
“Oh.” I nodded. Andrew always seemed immune to other kids. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You should’ve told me…I’d…I’d…scare them…scare those kids?”
“No. You wouldn’t have done anything,” Andrew said.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Here’s the thing, Felton. This is what Big Rod and I discuss all the time. That stuff shouldn’t matter, okay? I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want to be a jock and I don’t want college sports coaches calling me ever and I don’t want to worry like you worry about everything, but I’ve started worrying and I just don’t want to waste another second of my life wondering if I’ll go through a growth spurt and suddenly be another human being, like you did, so people like me…because I’ve become some freaky genius that I don’t even want to be.”
“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” I said. I totally understood.
“I’m not like you. I’m not going to suddenly gain more control over my fingers and play like Aleah either. It isn’t going to happen, and it’s not even what I want.”
“Okay,” I nodded. My Under Armour bobbed along in the ocean just like the dolphins.
“I want to like doing what I like doing, but everyone wants me to be like you or to talk about you, and meanwhile you won’t even show up at my concert…”
“I know. I really know,” I said.
“So, I’m trying to let it all go,” Andrew said. “Which isn’t easy because I also really like you, Felton, because you’re my brother.”
“I row out here anytime I need the gulf to carry my worries away,” Rod said. “This was my idea.”
“So I threw away your shirt,” Andrew nodded.
“My shoes? Same deal?” I asked.
“Sort of,” Andrew nodded. “I worry that you like your jock shoes more than you like me.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No way.”
Andrew’s face turned red.
“I don’t want to worry about you not liking me or about what people think. I just want to be with my family and to…to be happy…”
“You boys got some trouble,” Big Rod said.
“I’ll help you, Andrew. I’ll be a good brother. I’m just beginning to understand all this…”
“Thanks, Felton.”
“It’s so complicated, huh?” I said.
“It’s not really, but it seems like it,” Andrew nodded.
“Say it,” Big Rod said. “Be a man and say it.”
“I love you, Felton. My happiness is not your responsibility. My happiness is up to me. I love you.”
“Uh, I love you too,” I said.
“Breakthrough.” Big Rod nodded.
When we got back to the beach, Andrew hugged me and I hugged him back. My poop-flinger self wanted to go beat up his classmates. I don’t think that’s what Big Rod meant by a breakthrough, though.
Andrew thanked me again on our walk back to the hotel.