Page 81 of The Last to Let Go
I try to work on my calculus, but I can’t concentrate.
Dr. Greenberg has planted this weed of a thought in my mind that I cannot kill. What would it mean to let go? Maybe letting go is like the ice finally breaking. Maybe I’m thawing slowly, like the rest of the world; maybe I’ll just crack open and release it all, start over again too.
I lean my head against the tree trunk and close my eyes.
Somewhere a little girl is crying. It takes me back to this day when Aaron and I were little. It was one of the many times we came here, holding hands as we crossed the street, while Mom and Dad were busy fighting.
I remember we found these fallen branches and made them into swords for one of our pirate duels. We were pretending to have a sword fight, and he was letting me win, as usual, when these big kids came up to us. They called us babies and snatched our swords out of our hands and broke them in half, stomped on them so they snapped like they were nothing more than twigs.
Aaron always seemed so much older than me, but he really wasn’t—that’s something it’s taken me a long time to realize. We were both little, I was almost six and he was maybe eight or nine. Being little didn’t stop him from being pissed, though. He marched right up to the ringleader of the bullies—who couldn’t have been much older than us, maybe nine or ten—and demanded that he go find us new swords. But of course they weren’t about to do that. They all got a good laugh, though. Then the four boys circled Aaron and started pushing him back and forth, taunting and shouting as he bounced against them like a pinball, unable to break free or even gain his footing.
I’ve always remembered the part about the bullies breaking our sticks and Aaron being pushed around, but I forgot there was another part to it. I never remembered exactly how we got out of there.
I had just started crying right before Dad showed up.
He entered the scene like some kind of superhero, I remember now, still in his uniform. He swooped in and pulled Aaron right out of there, so stealthily no one had even seen him coming, not even me. We stood behind him and watched as he closed in on the kids.
“What’s going on over here?” he said, not yelling but speaking loudly, firmly. He had his hands on his hips and towered over them, casting a long shadow. “Huh? You think it’s fun to beat up on little kids half your size? Four against one? Let me tell you something, that doesn’t make you tough, that makes you a coward—you know what that means?” he demanded, moving even closer to them.
They were terrified. They nodded frantically. “Yes. Yes, sir. Yes, Officer,” they replied, their voices cracking and shaking.
He lowered his voice then and bent over so that he was face-to-face with them and said, “I’m always watching—you won’t know I’m here, but I’ll be watching you.” He glanced over his shoulder at the two of us and winked. I don’t think I’ve ever felt safer, more proud, more vindicated, than I did right in that moment. When I looked up at Aaron, he was just watching in awe, his mouth hanging open in a smile.
“If I ever, and I meanever, see you beating up on these kids, or any other kids, ever again...” He paused at exactly the right time to let the fear sink in. “I will take you to jail. That’s right. What do you think your parents would think of that? Huh, you hear me?”
Emphatic nodding and another round of “Yes, sirs.”
He stood upright again, so tall and straight. “All right. You remember that. Now get out of here before I change my mind and arrest you all right now. Got it? Yeah? Go, then.”
They ran.
When he turned around to face us, I ran up to him and hugged his legs. He was laughing as he picked me up—I could feel it vibrating in his chest; I can almost feel it now. “You okay?” he asked me, touching my cheek where my tears had been.
“Yep,” I told him, and I leaned my head against his shoulder.
“What about you? You okay, bud?” he asked Aaron, taking his chin in his hand to get a better look at his face.
Aaron nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
“All right, then. Come on. It’s time for dinner.”
He patted Aaron’s head and carried me the whole way home.
I open my eyes.
Back in the present. The river seems to be rushing even louder now. Faster. I look around. Everyone seems so far away, and the sky is now populated with a team of deep-gray clouds. I start packing up my things, uncertain anymore if I made up the ending or if it was real. If I ever talk to Aaron again, I’ll have to ask him about it.
OUT OF HIBERNATION
“SO THIS IS WHEREyou live?” Tyler says as he steps into my living room. I spent the morning cleaning and straightening and organizing. I couldn’t believe how disgusting I’d let it become. “Dani said it was normal. I didn’t believe her, though.”
“What do you mean, why wouldn’t it be normal?”
“You’re such a control freak, I figured you probably lived in a sterilized bubble, or something. Guess you’re really human after all,” he says, this sly grin on his face.
“Thanks, I guess. Come on in.”
We get set up around the coffee table. We tag-team it. Tyler’s the point person for calculus. I’m in charge of English and chem. Both of us suck in history, so we decide to tackle it together. We’re at it for hours. It feels good to work hard again, to be good at something again.
