“Okay,” is all he says. He turns and walks the final few feet to his car as I study him, wondering if it’s safe to let him drive. He looks slightly numb and spaced out, like he might just pass out any second, but he slides into his car nonetheless and starts the engine.
I drive my own car back to my mom’s house, with Tyler trailing along behind me, and the entire time I wonder why I don’t feel anything. I don’t feel upset. Not angry. Not anymore, at least. Not frustrated. Not anything. In a way, the outcome is almost like I always expected it to be. Dad was never going to take the news well, sober or not, and Ella . . . I don’t know about Ella. I can’t quite figure out if she’s repulsed or just shocked. Dad, however, is just an asshole, the same way he always has been. I’m used to it by now. Sometimes he’s alright. Sometimes he’s the guy he is tonight.
I don’t know what’s going to happen now. I don’t know if by tomorrow everything will have calmed down again. All we need is a chance to explain ourselves, to make them understand, and that can only happen if Dad and Ella give us the time to do so. Tonight, they certainly didn’t. Maybe once the initial anger and confusion and shock wears off, they’ll hear us out. They have to. They don’t have another choice. What else can they do? Kick us out of the family forever? Forbid us from being together?
I bypass Dean’s house on the way home, tapping my fingers impatiently on the wheel as I drive in silence. I keep glancing in my rearview mirror to check that Tyler’s still there. He is, of course, tailgating me to the point where I firmly believe that any second now he might just rear-end me. Both our cars make it back to my mom’s place without a scratch, however, and I waste no time clambering out of my vehicle.
It’s after ten by now, and I walk around to Tyler’s car door and wait for him as he steps out. He still looks as pale as he did when he first got in and his hand seems to have gotten worse.
“I’d say sorry for hitting your dad,” he says quietly as he reaches back into the car for his bag, “but I’m not.” Slamming the door shut, he turns and advances along the footpath toward the front door. Again, he doesn’t wait for me, and I’m starting to get the feeling that he’s mad at me.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask once I catch up to him again. I fall into place directly opposite him as we pause by the door for a second before heading inside.
“No,” he says. As he glances out onto the street, he sighs and presses a hand to his forehead before his eyes meet mine again. “I’m sorry. Tonight has been a mess. I’m thinking about my dad and I’m thinking about Jamie and I’m thinking about my mom and I’m thinking about your dad and I’m thinking about you,” he murmurs. Slowly, his lips pull up into a half-smile. “But mostly just you.” He drops his gaze to his watch, and when he glances back up, he shrugs. “You know, it’s after 1AM in New York. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”
I wasn’t tired, but now that Tyler has brought it up, I suddenly feel my body sinking with fatigue. It feels like New York was forever ago, but the truth is we were still there this afternoon. So much has happened since then, with a six-hour flight in the middle of it all, and with the time difference thrown in too, I really do want nothing more right now than to just head straight to bed. So I say, “How about we deal with this in the morning?” to which Tyler nods, and we head inside.
Mom and Jack are watching some Lifetime movie on TV when we walk in, both of them sprawled out on the couch, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Gucci’s asleep on the floor, and although she does open her eyes to the sound of our entrance, she doesn’t bother to get up and greet us. Mom and Jack, however, immediately pause the TV and pull themselves up into a seated position.
“You guys don’t look all that relieved,” Mom comments, furrowing her eyebrows. She’s draped in her gown by this point, so she holds it closed with one hand as she gets to her feet. “Tyler, what are you doing back here?”
“It didn’t go great,” I admit, glancing sideways at Tyler as I shrug. He still seems quiet. “Dad was drunk, so he was a jerk and Ella told us to leave.”
A huff of disapproval leaves Mom’s lips as she shakes her head in rebuke, most likely at Dad, and she floats across the living room toward us. Quickly, she becomes sympathetic, smiling softly at us both. “I’m sure everything will be okay,” she reassures us, her tone soothing. “Just give them some time to come to terms with it.”
My head feels heavy, and I frown. “What if they don’t?”
Mom thinks about my question for a short while, even glancing at Jack for help, but all he does is shrug, so all she can do is pull a face and shrug too. “I don’t know what to tell you, Eden,” she says.