“What are you going to do now?” she asks when the conversation has run its course.
“I’m not sure,” Ryan says. But she can see it, clearly. His mind is still stamped with the word revenge.
Neil knows what Peter is doing, leaning his shoulder in like that. He knows what Peter is saying. He doesn’t move away. But he still doesn’t tell Peter what happened, and still doesn’t understand why.
Cooper leaves McDonald’s. Walks back into the world. Waits for night to fall.
Craig looks around the crowd for his family and doesn’t see them.
Harry tries to focus on the texts and emails coming in, all the posts. He barely has the strength to hold his phone, but he types as many answers as he can, trying to lose himself in words, trying to pass the time in words.
Harry’s father watches his son and feels something enormous inside of him. His own father would have never understood what he was seeing, what he was feeling. His own father would have had more than a few things to say about this. But his own father was not, in many ways, worthy of his grandson, just as Harry’s father is feeling, in many ways, unworthy of his son. What he feels is more than pride. Here, he thinks, is the meaning of everything. Right here in front of him. His child.
Tom, standing right next to Mr. Ramirez, wishes we were there to see it.
We are right here, we tell him.
We are right
here.
“Is there anything you want to do?” Ryan asks when they get to Avery’s car.
I want a do-over, Avery thinks. I want the last two hours back.
Craig sees the look on Tariq’s face before he sees his own phone in Tariq’s hand. For the past few hours, Craig’s let Harry be the texter, let Harry be the person saying thank you to the inexplicable thousands who’ve been tuning in. But Tariq’s expression lets him know this isn’t about that. This is something else.
Tariq hands over the phone. It’s a message from his brother Kevin.
Went for a drive. Good luck.
That’s all. That’s it.
His family isn’t coming.
His family. Isn’t. Coming.
At some point in the night his father must have decided. It had to have been his father.
They’ve left. They won’t be back until it’s over.
Craig feels like his skin has been ripped off from the inside. He feels that all of these people watching, all of these people can see what’s happened, can see everything that’s never going to happen. No reunion. No cheering section. Nothing.
The tears fall even before he thinks about them. Of all the things his body is doing, this is the one that makes the most sense. When you are sad, it makes sense for the body to want your eyes to clear quickly.
Harry still doesn’t know what’s happening, although he has a feeling he knows. Craig gestures to Tariq to share the message with Harry, and Harry’s fears are confirmed. Now Smita and Mrs. Ramirez are also coming over, seeing something’s wrong.
The crowd cheers louder, calls out the boys’ names. Hundreds of voices calling out the name that Craig’s parents gave him. It all sounds meaningless to him.
Something comes over Tariq. He can’t stop himself from doing it. He tells Rachel to watch the computers, watch the feed, and he bolts through the crowd. This is the first time he’s been away from Craig and Harry, this is the first time he’s taken a break, and he doesn’t know where the energy is coming from, but once he’s through the press of people, he’s sprinting like a gold medalist through his town. His breathing is heavy and all his old wounds feel like they’re on the verge of opening, but he powers through that, pushes himself until he’s on Craig’s street, in Craig’s driveway, running up Craig’s front walk. Then he’s pounding at the door—really pounding—yelling at them to come out, shouting that he knows they’re in there, pleading with them to be there, to come with him, to not be this stupid, to not make this mistake. “He needs you,” he tells them. “He needs you,” he says over and over again, until his hand grows too tired of pounding and his lungs grow too tired of yelling.
The house creaks and settles, as if to tell Tariq of its own abandonment. The sun blinks under a cloud. There’s not a word of response, because there’s no one around to craft one.
Tariq does not cry. He does not bother the house any further. He wanted to be the one to make the wrong thing right, as so many of us do. That he’s failed is almost beside the point. In the rush of everything when it’s over, he will probably forget to tell Craig that he tried this, that he did this.
We tell him it was a nice try. As he walks back to the school, we try to walk beside him. We want him to feel he has company.
Craig realizes how much he was waiting for them, now that he’s not waiting for them anymore.
He is also surprised to find their absence is not going to make him drown.
Harry is trying to be there for Craig. Trying so hard. Just when it feels like there can’t be anything new to say in the kiss, he tries to say this. And Craig hears it. Craig starts tracing something on his back. At first Harry thinks it’s a P, or a lowercase e. But it doubles on itself—a heart.
Harry responds with an exclamation point.
“You are not alone,” he says, his mouth still on Craig’s.
“What?” Craig asks.
“You are not alone,” Harry says again.
And this time Craig hears it.
Neil leaves Peter’s side, walks over to Peter’s computer. The two boys are still on there, kissing. Neil leans in, tries to get a sense of their thoughts. He makes it full screen, but that only makes them blurrier.
“We should go there,” he finds himself saying. “Do you think your mom will give us a ride?”
“I just want to drive past,” Ryan says. “To see if they’re still there.”
Avery wants to refuse. But instead he silently complies as Ryan tells him to turn left, to turn right.
There it is again. The abandoned mini golf.
The truck is gone.
Avery can’t tell if Ryan is disappointed or relieved. Maybe both.
“I think I know where they might be,” he says. He tells Avery to pull out and make a left.
Avery makes it through two green lights. When a red light stops them at the third intersection and Ryan says to take another left, Avery decides he’s neither going to give in or give up. Instead he’s going to give Ryan one last chance.
Ryan’s confused when Avery shifts to the right lane and makes a right turn. Even more so when Avery pulls over into the parking lot of a law office.
“What are you doing?” he asks Avery.
And Avery says, “You’re ruining it. You have to stop now before you ruin it completely.”
Cooper pulls his car onto the highway. He is leaving his town for good. He doesn’t give it a second thought. He doesn’t feel anyone there deserves a goodbye.
Only two hours to go.
More camera crews, more protestors. More heat, more noise.
For all the booster shots of caffeine, Craig wants sleep as badly as he wants to sit down. He tries to keep his mind from slipping into the bad questions, but at this point, he’s somewhat defenseless against them. All of his unspoken, even unacknowledged, reasons for doing this are falling away. Didn’t he think it would bring his family together around him? Didn’t he think they’d be proud? And wasn’t Smita right—didn’t he think this would get Harry back, make them a couple again? And what about what happened to Tariq—did he really think this would somehow correct that, would prevent such things from ever happening again? If anything, isn’t he making it worse, giving a reason for the camera crews to sell the other side’s hate into the airwaves?
Why are you doing this? he asks himself, and with all the other answers falling away, he’s not sure what’s left. We could tell him, but he has to figure it out for himself. We know that. It’s impossible for us to arm him against despair. He must arm himself.