-Ellie-
I went to find Flynn after our run in with Dania. I had been rattled to say the least. I found him at home, playing with Murphy in the yard.
He wouldn’t talk to me at first.
I apologized over and over again, not even sure he was hearing me.
“You made up that name? Freaky Flynn?” he asked me finally after I had been near tears.
“Yes,” I admitted. It was the one thing I could come clean about.
“I hate that name. It makes me really mad. And you made it up. You told them to call me that.” Flynn threw the ball for Murphy, who was oblivious to the tension between the two humans in his life.
“I know you do, Flynn. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s a mean name. You’re a mean person,” he said flatly. Unemotionally. No feeling whatsoever. He was telling me the absolute and total truth.
“Yes, I am,” I agreed, my chest feeling painfully tight.
“My name isn’t Freaky Flynn. It’s just Flynn. Flynn Hendrick. I live at 16 Hollow Point Road, Wellsburg, West Virginia 22098. I’m five foot eleven and weigh one hundred and seventy-four pounds. I am not Freaky Flynn!” His voice rose the more upset he became.
Murphy dropped the ball at Flynn’s feet and he kicked it across the yard.
“I know you’re not Freaky Flynn! I’m so sorry I ever made it up! I was a mean, stupid girl! I was too scared to admit how I felt about you. That’s all! But I was wrong! So wrong! I love you Flynn!” I cried out.
Crap! I hadn’t meant to say that! Not now. Not like this.
Flynn was shaking his head back and forth. He was pulling at his hair so hard I thought he’d pull out chunks. “No, I’m not Freaky Flynn!” he yelled again.
He hadn’t even registered the huge admission I had just made.
I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed.
Murphy started to whine, picking up on his owner’s state of mind.
“You’re not Freaky Flynn!” I yelled, feeling myself getting worked up as well.
“You always called me names! You always made me feel bad, Ellie! I wanted you to be my friend. I wanted you to like me!” His voice rose and he had started to cry.
I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say. I was afraid anything I said or did would only set him off further. I had seen him like this before of course, when we were both much younger.
But then I hadn’t cared about calming him down. I had laughed and teased and tormented. I had milked his freak out for everything it was worth.
Not now. Now I just felt helpless.
I was the worst person to talk him off whatever ledge he was hanging over. I knew these outbursts were just a part of who he was. But they scared me.
“I’m not Freaky Flynn!” he screamed over and over again. He was rubbing his hands together. Up and down his arms. He rubbed harshly and systematically over and over again.
I took a deep breath. I needed to get myself under control.
I closed my eyes while he yelled. Murphy was pacing in circles now, clearly distressed.
I slowly, so as to not upset him further, walked toward Murphy. I made a point to keep a healthy distance from Flynn, who was still rubbing his hands together. Murphy was whining and pacing by the apple tree. I leaned down and started rubbing Murphy’s head in long, even strokes. “It’s okay, boy,” I said calmly. The act of rubbing his thick, silky fur relaxed me. Even as Flynn raged behind me.
I kept rubbing the dog, keeping up a steady stream of soothing words. Murphy stopped pacing and settled on the ground, his tail wagging.
“That’s it, calm down,” I said softly. The words were just as much for me as for the dog. I realized Flynn had quieted down. I looked back and saw that he was still rubbing his hands but he wasn’t yelling anymore. He was watching me pet his dog.
“You’re a good boy,” I crooned to the dog as he nuzzled my hand.
I stayed like that for almost twenty minutes. Petting Murphy and waiting to see what Flynn would do. He continued to rub his hands the whole time.
Finally he came over and knelt down beside me, putting his hand on Murphy’s head.
I watched as Flynn visibly relaxed while he rubbed Murphy. I let out a breath that I hadn’t realized I was holding.
We were quiet for a long time; the only noise was that of Murphy’s panting and thumping tail
“Do you want to sit down?” I asked as I lowered myself onto the ground.
Flynn still didn’t answer me but he sat down beside me. We were silent again. My back was getting stiff but I wouldn’t move away from him. I wouldn’t retreat. I would be here for Flynn. Even if it was just sitting beside him while he rubbed Murphy.
A few moments later, he put his hand down on my leg. The simple touch almost reduced me to tears.
He had forgiven me. Even if he couldn’t say the words.
I loved this man. So much. But how many times would our destructive history derail the future we were attempting to build? Was it possible for two people who had hurt each other so badly be happy together?
I hoped so. Because I couldn’t imagine my life without Flynn Hendrick.
Somehow, someway, we were going to have to find a way to not only forgive each other, but to forgive our past.
If that was even possible.
After Flynn had settled, he had gone into the house, leaving me outside. I hadn’t followed him, figuring he needed his space and the last thing I wanted to do was crowd him.
So I had stayed outside with Murphy for almost an hour. When I went inside the house, I found Flynn asleep in his room. I hadn’t disturbed him. But I hadn’t left either.
I slept on the couch that night, just wanting to be close to him even if I didn’t know how.
The next few days were a bit strained but we eventually fell back into our version of normal. I had rescheduled my meeting with the Continuing Education Coordinator for later in the week. Flynn had gone with me to campus, going off to the art studio while I went over options for the next few years.
I had decided on applying to two schools. One in West Virginia a little over an hour away. The other was my dream school. It had an amazing English department but it was in Maryland. I had never left the state. The thought was terrifying. But I decided to go for it anyway. I had no hopes of getting in but I could at least say I tried.
I was feeling pretty buoyant by the time I was finished. Cathy, the CE Coordinator had been really nice and given me a bunch of brochures to look at.
I found Flynn exactly where I expected him to be. He was bent over a mound of clay in the empty art studio. It was perfectly silent except for the punctuated sounds of his tools as he dropped them on the table before picking up another one.
I wasn’t exactly quiet when I entered the room but Flynn didn’t look up. I wasn’t surprised. He would disappear into whatever he was working on.
I came up behind him and looked over his shoulder and frowned at what I was seeing.
He was molding a miniature Mount Rushmore. I recognized the faces of the presidents as he scrapped and carved into the clay.
“What’s that for?” I asked, sitting down beside him on the bench, careful to give him enough space to work.
Flynn still didn’t work up. He wiped away some of the excess clay and picked up another glob and mashed it to the creation in his hand. Smoothing and rubbing it into shape.
“I sell these,” he said, squinting at the piece of art he was making.
“Really. Just the Mount Rushmores?” I asked him.
He shook his head as he put down the tool in his hand and picked up a small, sharp bladed knife. “I like to make pyramids and Big Bens and The Great Wall of China and Machu Picchu. I find them in books then make them. Then I sell them. My mom helped me set it up. I make a lot of money,” he said succinctly.
I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it.
Flynn frowned. “Stop laughing at me!” he commanded.
I stifled my giggles, knowing how he was interpreting it.
“I’m not laughing at you, Flynn,” I explained.
“You’re laughing. I don’t like it. Stop it,” he said flatly.
“No, I promise. It’s just that I buy these,” I said, pointing at the Mount Rushmore in his hands.
He finally looked up at me.
“You buy my statues?” he asked, looking back at his tiny creation.
“Yeah. I’ve been buying them for over a year now. I have a lot of them. They’re amazing!” I enthused; a little shocked by yet another strange twist of fate.
The universe had been working overtime in throwing us together.
“And you like them?” he asked shyly, resuming his work.
I watched him as he molded the clay until he was happy with the product.
“I love them, Flynn. They’re beautiful. They’re all the places I want to go some day. Maybe we could see them together,” I suggested softly. This was the first time I had been direct in my wishes for our future together.
Flynn was quiet. Not saying a word. He got up and walked over to the kiln, opening the door and putting the sculpture inside.
He closed the door and walked back to the table.
“I want to go to the beach,” he said without preamble.
What?
“You want to go to the beach?” I asked, not sure where this was coming from.
“After my house burned down, my mom and I moved to North Carolina. She took me to see the ocean. I hated it. I hated the sand. I didn’t like the way it felt between my toes. She tried to get me into the water but it was too loud,” he said.
It was my turn to be confused.
“And you want to go again? It doesn’t sound like a very good experience,” I commented.
“Have you ever seen the ocean?” he asked me.
“No. I’ve never left West Virginia,” I confessed.
“I want to see the ocean with you, Ellie.” He spoke without leaving room for argument.
“But it’s loud and the sand gets between your toes,” I reasoned. I didn’t want him to go somewhere he’d be miserable. I knew Flynn well enough by now to know that if he hated it, it would be horrible for him. I didn’t want that…for either of us.
“I want to see the ocean. We’re going,” he stated, cleaning up his workstation.
“Okay then. When are we going?” I asked him, more than a little amused by the way he was taking control. I wasn’t used to this side of him and I kind of liked it.
“It’s two days until Saturday. We can stay for two nights,” he declared and I nodded.
“In two days then. I suppose we’d better figure out where we’re going,” I said, helping him put away his sculpting tools.
“In two days we can go to the beach and see the ocean. We’ll walk on the sand and I won’t cry this time when it gets between my toes,” Flynn smiled.
I laughed.
“You’re not laughing at me this time,” he said, seeming proud of himself for knowing the difference.
“No, I’m not laughing at you. I’m happy. Sometimes you laugh because you feel good,” I explained.
“Going to the beach makes you feel good?” he asked.
“Going anywhere with you makes me feel amazing,” I said.