Page 18 of The Bronze Garza
Iwas goinghome.
At first, I was stupefied. Frozen in disbelief. Waiting for the joke. The punchline. I’d stopped breathing. On the verge of hyperventilating.
Then, it’s like the sluice gates opened. Wild waves of emotions engulfed me, submerging me. And suddenly I was drowning. In relief and disbelief. In joy and grief.
Out of breath and overflowing with tears, I’d ran to the lavatory and locked myself inside. And that’s where I’ve been for the past however long. Bawling my eyes out.
I’m going home.
Dad.
Mom.
Oh, God. Oh, God. I can’t wait to see them.Oh, God, I can’t want to see them!
I’d buried the images and memories of them in a safe place in a tight corner of my mind. Where they couldn’t be marred or erased. Protected them so my bitter hurt couldn’t touch them. My parents have been my lifeline. My talisman. The thing that’s kept me from damning myself to the same fate as Kristie. Even if I’d given up all hope of ever seeing them again.
“Lyra...”
Another sob rockets up my throat and I press my hands over my mouth to stifle it.
This is real. This is not a dream. No, not this time.
I reallyamon a jet, 35,000ft in the air, on route to Los Angeles.
Home.
Thinly, so quietly that William can’t possibly hear me on the other side, I answer, “I-I’m fine.”
“You should come eat something.”
Face crumpling, I sink to the floor and press my face between my knees. Take in long, deep breaths to calm myself.Ten….nine…eight…seven—
I burst into tears.
~
Once I’m wrungdry of every ounce of liquid in my body, I peel up from the floor, wash the salt from my face, then exit the lavatory.
William is back in his seat, his brows creasing with concern as he watches me amble down the aisle. On the other side, The Bronze Man is fast asleep.
Instead of going back to my seat, I take the one facing William’s. I have questions.
The stewardess straightens from her seat above and inquires if there’s anything she can get me.
“Tea, please,” I answer absently. “And some nuts, if you have it.”
As she goes off, William murmurs, “Here I thought you’d be ecstatic to be going home.”
Crossing my legs, I frown. “Why do you think I’m not?”
“You spending over an hour locked in the bathroom crying?”
I breathe out a sigh. “Forgive me if I’m not bouncing off the walls and doing tequila shots with you. But I gave up hope alongtime ago. Numbed myself because it was the only way to endure, to survive. What happened in that bathroom was an unlocking of all the emotions I’d bottled up. Can you even begin to imagine what that’s like? It—it was like a deluge, a torrential downpour. It was like…like I was trapped on the bank of a wild and rowdy river, and I-I had to try and find my way to the other side.”
He grunts. “And did you?”
“Did I what?”
