Page 71 of Teach Me To Sin
I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I don’t care, because it’s you.
Alek
If the weekendat Birch Bay was a miracle, coming home to Seattle is the quick crash back to earth. My life’s work is still a pile of blackened bricks, and I can’t stop looking for threats around every corner, like Gareth Atwood might just put a bomb in my car and be done with me. Gray had to fly home, but he and Colson spent a long time talking with Benji and looking at all the texts he saved. He told me they’re worth pursuing, but the thought of going back through another trial like my father’s drains what little energy I have, especially now that I’m ready to move on and forget him.
Worst of all is the silence when I go and walk along the caution tape surrounding the swim center. It took less than an hour to wipe out not just the building, but all the life and purpose, as if nothing was ever here. As happy as I am to have Colson and Benji, part of my soul still feels broken. The longer the inspections take and the more expensive the repairs become, the more I wonder whether we’re even doing the right thing. Even if we rebuild, I don’t know if anyone’s going to come back after Gareth’s constant rumors and articles questioning my motives and even suggesting I set the fire myself.
All that’s keeping me sane this week is helping Colson house hunt. He drives us out to these derelict properties covered in three-foot-high weeds and confidently announces all the ways that he can fix them. I’ve pointed out multiple times that he’s used to a certain standard of living, but Colson ignores us and insists that he’s a rustic person now. Pouring himself into such an expensive and impractical project has given him new energy. All the gardening books he used to hide in his drawer are scattered all over the table at my condo where he, Benji, and the dogs are staying with me until we sort out other arrangements.
A week and a half after we return, a text message ruins my nap on the couch.Don’t forget Willow’s birthday,Victor demands.
Huffing in frustration, I sit up and fire off an answer.How could I when you’ve reminded me fifty times a day for the last week?
Victor: Bring Benji and Alek too.
“Apparently you’re invited to Willow’s birthday party,” I grumble at the two men sitting around my kitchen table. Colson is sketching some kind of landscaping concept while Benji looks up questions for him in his reference books. It’s completely unfair of them to look so cute when I’m trying to be in a bad mood.
“Willow is way cooler than either of you.” Benji muses, chewing on the end of one of Colson’s drafting pencils. “She has an entire desk drawer full of Snickers.”
“What?” I bury my head in my hands “That’s where all the kids are getting them. I’ve been pulling candy wrappers out of the damn pool filters for months.”
A moment later we both realize we were talking in the present tense about something that’s in the past, and Benji’s eyes turn sad. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, let’s just get out of here before Victor starts calling me.”
I drive us across town in my Prius, which I know Colson hates because the engine doesn’t govroom vroomenough for his tastes. The party is located at a barbecue place south of Seattle. “I’m surprised they got a table,” I muse as I circle the parking lot for the third time looking for a spot, before giving up and parking at the grocery store across the street. Benji catches my hand as we walk up to the restaurant, and I feel Colson’s arm slip around my shoulders. Walking between them is always the safest and most empowering feeling in the world.
Colson bumps into me when I stop abruptly in the doorway of the restaurant. There isn’t any proper furniture, just a huge open space with chairs along the wall and what looks like some folding tables weighed down with foil trays of pulled pork and chicken breasts. I knew Willow had a lot of friends, but there are well over a hundred people milling around, including a ton of kids, and the ambient noise of their chatter is overwhelming. When someone notices me, they start clapping. It rolls through the room, from one person to another, until the space fills with the sound of applause while I just gawk in confusion.
I’m completely unable to process what’s going on until a five-year-old boy fights his way out of the crowd and runs over to throw his tiny arms around my thigh. “Hey, Mr. Alek!”
“Um.” I look around the room again, starting to realize that I recognize almost everyone here. “Hi, Harrison. What’s going on?”
He hugs me tighter. “We’re having a s’pise party.” As if he just remembered something very important, he steps back, throws up his arms, and yells “S’pise!”
“Thank you so much.” My gaze wanders from students, to parents, to old students I haven’t seen in years. Victor, Tate, and Willow are off to one side, with Maya standing next to them. “I’m very surprised.”
Everyone quiets down as Luis, a man whose kids have been in our program since the very first year, steps forward. With over a hundred pairs of eyes on him, he flushes a little. “Um…apparently, I got chosen to say a few words. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I guess it depends what they are?” I joke awkwardly, stuck between bewilderment and emotional overload. My heart calms down a little when I feel Colson’s hand on my back and Benji’s shoulder against mine. “I mean, yes, thank you.”
“Well,” he takes a deep breath. “First of all, thank you to Maya for bringing this together at the last minute. When we heard what happened, we all called in to ask if there was a way we could show up for you. My kids have asked me every single day since the fire when they can go back to swim practice, and I think everyone in here will agree that we didn’t realize what a special thing we had until it was gone. Not only have you helped a lot of families who can’t afford lessons, but you and Victor made a safe place for people who felt rejected and unwanted.” When he clears his throat and blinks away a hint of emotion, I can feel myself collapsing inside. Colson steps closer, sliding his arm around my waist, while Benji hooks his pointer finger through my pinkie and squeezes.
“We know there have been a lot of rumors going around,” Jose continues, “about you coaching like your dad. A lot of us parents have been talking.” I tense, but he doesn’t sound angry. “We’ve spent six years enjoying the fruits of you giving all of yourself tirelessly every hour of every day. It’s only right that we stand by you now. If you want to coach, we think you’ll be the toughest, smartest, kindest damn coach this city has ever seen, and we’ll all be cheering you on.” At that, a few people whistle and clap. I glance over at Victor, who offers me a soft, crooked smile.
“I– um.” I cough and try again. “Thank you so much, everyone. I can’t express how much… yeah. I will just, uh, I left something in my car. I’ll be right back.” Nudging myself between Benji and Colson, I step back out into the humid afternoon, put my forehead against the rough, warm brick wall, and break. But for the first time, it’s from joy instead of pain. Everything we did, the endless late nights and early mornings and stressing over the budget, it all mattered. And the good I’ve done doesn’t have to counterbalance to the sins of my father–it can just belong to me, as part of the legacy I want to leave.
Colson wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind and rests his cheek against my ear, rocking us very slowly back and forth. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs. The fucker just makes me cry harder, so he turns me around and lets me make the front of his dress shirt all wet. A second body presses against my back and Benji’s long arms loop around my waist. Being absolutely and completely surrounded by your partners is something I guess two-person couples don’t get to enjoy. They’re really missing out.
“Are you gonna be okay to go back in?” Benji asks when I finally run out of tears and start wiping my face with tissues from Colson’s pocket.
“I knew you were eyeing that barbecue chicken.” The lawyer ruffles Benji’s hair. “I’m sure they left a little bit for you. Maybe. It’s a hard sacrifice, hugging your boyfriend instead of eating.”
Benji squawks in indignation and they start chasing each other in circles around me, play fighting and sneaking in dirty hits until I’m officially laughing instead of sniffling. Everyone in the restaurant shoots me sympathetic smiles when I come back in with my pale, blotchy face.
Now that I’ve pulled myself together, I get to spend two hours talking to everyone, thanking Maya, and studying the decorations. Tate, Victor, and Maya must have worked together to find and reprint most of the photos that couldn’t be saved from the swim center, along with displaying drawings from the kids and notes from the parents. I’m going to have to take most of it home to read where I can cry again in peace.
Everyone wants to know what’s happening next with the swim center, but I don’t have an answer. Less than an hour ago, I had convinced myself to give up on the whole thing. Now everything I thought was dead is standing in front of me, talking and laughing and eating mediocre barbecue.