The Last Exit to Normal Read online

  I smiled back, but it wasn’t sincere. Anger bubbled up in me, and it was directed at her. Here she was, living in a huge house with her fancy shit in it and wearing her expensive clothes while her son pissed in a jar in a closet. “Cool. Congratulations.”

  “He’s abusing him, isn’t he?”

  I decided that she deserved the truth—partly to let her know what her son was going through and partly to hurt her. To make her feel like a sorry excuse for a person. I explained the closet and the nonstop work and the strapping, laying down everything I knew, including the cemetery.

  By the time I finished, she was staring at her lap, silently weeping, and I wasn’t too upset about seeing her this way. A long moment passed, neither of us talking. How could she sleep at night? Then she cleared her throat, wiped her eyes with a finger, and looked around her fine house. “You must think I’m a horrible person for leaving him.”

  I shrugged. Maybe they didn’t have an extra bedroom. “I just came to tell you about your son, ma’am. It’s not my business.”

  She swallowed, keeping her eyes on her lap. Then she straightened her shoulders, nodded to herself, and stood. “Stay here.”

  Kim and I looked at each other, not saying a word, and a minute later Mrs. Lindy returned. She held a bulging manila envelope. She sat down, putting the envelope on her lap and taking a deep breath. “The last time Norman beat me, he cracked three of my ribs with an iron fireplace poker.” She sniffed, her words awkward and stilted. “That night I realized I would end up dead someday. I knew he’d end up killing me. He’d beaten me so many times I couldn’t keep count, and I couldn’t do it anymore.” She cleared her throat. “Billy’s bags were packed with mine when his father caught me leaving. He beat me again, told me he’d kill both Billy and me if I ever tried to take him, then beat me some more. Three hours later, at four in the morning, I walked out the front door with nothing, and I never went back.”

  Tears filled Kim’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lindy, I . . .”

  She shook her head. “There’s no excuse, Kimberly. Never. I left him with that man. I was twenty-three years old, scared out of my mind, and I didn’t know what to do.” She paused. “I spent years living on the streets. I hated myself, hated what I did to survive, and I stuck a needle in my arm as often as I could to hide from what I’d done to my son. I thought about him all the time, wondering. I did. But I couldn’t go back. I believed with all my heart that Norman would kill him if I did. Kill me.”

  I looked at her, not understanding. “What happened?”

  She smiled through her tears, keeping her eyes down. “I met a woman from an outreach center, and she helped me get clean. It took two years, and in that process I met my husband, Travis, and we cleaned up together.” She paused, and a deep kind of pain filled her eyes for a moment. She patted the envelope on her lap. “There’s a long story behind what led up to these documents, and it’s certainly not your burden.” She cleared her throat. “My husband and I have hired an attorney. We’ve been preparing to get custody of Billy for several months now, and we’ll be serving papers on his father soon.”

  I wanted to melt for her. I wanted to hear the long story behind why it had taken so long to prepare to get custody of Billy, because the pain in those eyes was real. And maybe, I thought bleakly, my own mom felt that way when she talked about me. But another part of me saw only one thing. Excuses.

  I remembered one of the things Miss Mae told me when we first met, and I was surprised how true it was. And how much it hurt. “A boy needs a mother,” she’d said in the kitchen, and I knew what it felt like to not have one. It was that simple. Cut-and-dried, no bullshit. I looked at her. “I don’t think any reason you have matters very much to Billy, Mrs. Lindy. I think he’s grown up thinking nobody really cares about him. Especially you.”

  She swallowed, and tears rushed to her eyes again. She looked away. “I can’t change the past. I can only move forward.”

  I nodded, knowing it was the mumbo-jumbo crap that counselors vomited when you didn’t want to pay your own consequences. My own shrink had told me that. I wanted to lay into her. Flay her alive. She was my dad and my mom all rolled up into one. The victim. The person with a finger pointed somewhere else. “Can I tell you something, Mrs. Lindy?”

  She looked at me.

  “My mother left me when she found out my dad was gay. I haven’t seen her since. Not even a birthday card. She pretends I don’t exist.”

  “I’m sorry. I . . .,” she began.

  I cut her off. “I hate her, Mrs. Lindy. I hate her because of what she did. And if you sit there and say you can’t change the past, that means I can never love my mother again. And I want to.” I paused. “Billy needs to love you. That’s all I came to say.”

  I got up then, without waiting for a response. There was no response. “If you need any kind of testimony or whatever they do, I’ll do it,” I said.

  She sniffed again. “Thank you.” She looked at me. “I don’t expect anybody to understand why I would leave my son, but I want you to know that I never stopped loving him. I never stopped thinking about him.”

  I looked back into her eyes, and I saw my mom. “He thinks so.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Mrs. Lindy sent us off with a hundred dollars of guilt money for gas and food. I finally gave in and took it when I realized I was being an ass to her. I was pissed, though, because every time I looked around her nice house and thought about her nice life, a skinny little kid sleeping in a closet barged into my mind.

  I knew the trip was sort of a waste. She’d already started things with the custody hearings, and I knew what I’d done hadn’t made a difference and wouldn’t make a difference on the legal side of things. I hadn’t swayed her one way or another. She’d done it herself.

  But it wasn’t a waste to me. It was worth the shit I’d get from Dad and Edward, and even if Miss Mae strung me from the nearest tree, I’d smile through it. I’d gone because it was the right thing for me to do, and that made all the difference in the world.

  Dirk hauled ass home, and as the afternoon slid into evening, Kim fell asleep in the back. Dirk and I talked about Wyoming. He’d left school and gone to work at the ranch, and he loved it. He was saving to buy his own spread, and when he told me how much he made a year managing the place, all expenses paid on top of things, I could see how he would like it. Another two years, he said, and he’d have enough to buy a thousand acres somewhere and start his own business.

  After pulling off at a rest stop to catch some sleep before blasting our way back to Rough Butte, we drove up in front of my house in the middle of the afternoon. Dad was sitting on the front porch with Edward. I said goodbye to Kim and Dirk, then headed up the walk. Neither said a word. I topped the steps. “Hi.”

  Dad looked at me. “Pack your things.”

  I stopped, stunned. “What?”

  “I said, pack your things.”

  “Am I going somewhere?”

  He swallowed. “Yes. I called your mother, and she’s agreed to take you.”

  I winced. “I’m not living with her.”

  “Then you’ll be on the street, Ben, because you’re not living here anymore.”

  “Why? Because I went to Las Vegas to find Billy’s mom?”

  He blinked, but let my comment pass. “No. Because you don’t have a shred of respect for anybody here, and you don’t seem to understand that being an adult doesn’t mean walking all over the people who love you. You might think you’re a man and that you can do whatever you want, but you’re not. You’re a seventeen-year-old boy who enjoys hurting people, and I’m done with it.”

  I clenched my teeth. “You told me to deal with it, so I am. Maybe you should do the same.”

  He nodded. “I am. Pack your things.”

  “No.”

  Edward interrupted: “Ben . . .”

  “No. What is this? Another lesson for Ben? Gonna give it to me straight, Dad?”

  He leveled his
eyes at me. “You are not living here anymore.”

  I shrugged. “Call the sheriff, then. Have him take me.” I pointed to the phone sitting on the table between them. “Pick it up. Call.”

  “Why are you doing this, Ben?”

  “What am I doing, Dad? Huh? You blew me off when we got in that fight, then didn’t say a word to me for days, then called me a liar about the cats. And I don’t care if you got into a fight with that bastard over it, because it’s not like I haven’t had my ass kicked because of you.”

  “Tell me one reason why I should have thought you didn’t do it.”

  “Because I didn’t! And I told you I didn’t!”

  He shook his head. “I don’t see that as a reason for you to worry Edward and me out of our minds for the last two days. If you want to be spiteful, you can go somewhere else.”

  I stared at him. “Oh, it’s called ‘spite’? I thought doing whatever you want without regard for your family was called ‘coming out.’ I guess it’s different for me?”

  He set his chin. “Go.”

  “You’re really doing this, aren’t you?”

  “No, Ben, you’re doing this.”

  “Fine. Then I am.” I slammed the door shut on my way in, then stomped up the stairs to my room, thrashing around for my bags. He could go to hell. He could threaten me all he wanted and it wouldn’t work. If he wanted to throw down, we’d throw down.

  “Are you done being embarrassed yet?”

  I turned, and Edward was standing there. I stuffed a shirt in my bag. “Why would I be embarrassed, huh?”

  “Because you’re acting like a foolish spoiled brat, and you should be embarrassed.”

  “Great. Anything else to add?”

  He ticked off the items with his fingers, looking up at the ceiling: “Let’s see. Selfish, immature, irresponsible, rebellious, mean, and angry. I probably missed some, but those jump out at me.”

  “Yeah, sure. And he’s the angel.”

  “No, he’s not. Neither of you are. I would call it being human.”

  “What do you want me to do, then? He kicked me out.”

  “Maybe you should apologize.”

  I smirked. “You’re not allowed to apologize in this house, remember? You get hit with a spoon.”

  He shook his head. “Maybe you didn’t understand her, Ben. She wasn’t saying that you should never apologize, she was saying that you should never act in a way that would demand it. There’s a big difference there, and honestly, if you walk out that door, it’ll be because you let it happen, not because your father made it happen.”

  I slumped on the floor, deflated. “I tried, man. I took care of Mr. Hinks, I put the antlers back up, I went to Las Vegas to get Billy’s mom back, and nothing is good enough. Don’t you see it? I can’t do anything right, Edward. It’s like my life is cursed.”

  “Like a voodoo curse?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  He smiled. “Bingo. In fact, it may be as stupid as you two going in circles about it.”

  “Dead-end road, man. That’s all I see.”

  “You love him, and he loves you.”

  “Cut it with the Barney routine, Edward.”

  “Nothing wrong with purple dinosaurs.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not going to grovel.”

  He turned. “Then don’t.”

  Miss Mae made herself scarce, and Edward sat reading a GQ magazine on the sofa when I finally came down. Without my bags. “Where’s Dad?”

  I thought I saw an almost imperceptible smile cross Edward’s face. He kept reading. “He needed to get out. Try the restaurant.”

  “Am I still kicked out?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him.”

  Tired of the whole “maybe you should ask him” gig, I hopped in my truck and drove, resisting the urge to light a cigarette. I figured if I could spend thirty hours riding in a truck with no smoking, I could quit. Dad’s minivan was parked in one of the slots in front of the building. “BENJAMIN’S,” in fancy script, lit the front of the place. It didn’t make me feel good.

  Edward and Dad had taped butcher paper over the windows to hide the renovations they were doing, but light came through the cracks and I knew Dad was in there. I got out of the truck and stood on the sidewalk, looking at the place.

  Nobody stirred in the streets, and with all the stores closed and the park across the street dark, an aloneness came over me. I wasn’t even mad anymore. I was just done. Finished. I knew Dad was right about respect and all that, but it seemed hollow coming from his lips.

  This wasn’t about the gay thing. This was about him doling out destruction and expecting everybody around him to deal with it the way he wanted. I realized that me standing in front of these doors had been a long time coming, and now, as I stood there, I had no idea what to do.

  He’d ruined my life, and as I stood on the sidewalk, looking at the sign with my name on it, I realized that my mother wasn’t the one who had left. The second he’d said “I’m gay,” he’d been the one to leave. Let the chips fall where they may. I am who I am. I hadn’t set this up, he had. He’d screwed our lives up, and once Mom was gone, he’d spent three years fobbing me off on other people and expecting them to fix our problems. Now I was out the door.

  I remembered telling Billy why people ran. I thought about his mom and the judgment I’d put on her. My dad had spent forever running from who he was, and by the time he stopped running and blew my life up in my face, I realized I didn’t know what else my mom could have done.

  I stared at the sign and wondered if, before he’d come out of the closet, he figured Mom would take me. If he figured he’d be free to live the life he’d known he was meant for. I thought so. See the kid every other weekend, take him out to dinner, buy him a new skateboard. Put away the boyfriend for a couple of days while good boy Ben was around. I shook my head. Who had abandoned who?

  I studied the sign for a minute longer, then got back in my truck and drove home. Miss Mae was asleep, and I didn’t talk to Edward, just grabbed my stuff, snagged a blanket from the hall closet, and walked out.

  CHAPTER 25

  As I hunkered down in the bench seat of my pickup, parked who knows where on the side of some dirt road in the middle of Eastern Montana, I tried to imagine Dad and Edward at home. He’s really gone? He left?

  I didn’t know, though. Half of me thought this was some kind of lesson for him to teach me and it pissed me off, but the other half said this was for keeps. No turning back. I was on my own. That feeling sunk into my chest, and I fell asleep with it nagging me.

  I woke up to that happy-go-lucky sun damning my eyeballs and a not-so-happy sheriff tapping his nightstick on my window. I squinted, groaning. There were like eighty thousand miles of dirt roads around here, and it was just my luck. I rolled down the window. “Hi.”

  Sheriff Wilkins eyed me, then studied the cab. “You okay, son?”

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  He nodded. “Got a call from George Tyler about an hour ago saying there was a broke-down truck on his road.”

  I shook my head. “Not broken-down.”

  “Something going on?”

  “My dad kicked me out of the house.”

  “Gotcha.” He paused, scratching his ear. “Plannin’ on going back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He tilted his hat back on his head. “Things happen, I suppose.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Tell you what, huh? You come on by the jail at around eight tonight and I’ll set you up with a cot. You can sleep there until things are ironed out with your dad.”

  “In a cell?”

  He smiled, then laughed. “Other than Keith Donner getting drunk every once in a while and causing a ruckus with his brothers, I don’t think I’ve had anybody in there for three years.”

  “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

  He nodded. “I
lock up at around eight.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  He tipped his hat. “Keep your chin up, huh?” Then he walked back to his truck and drove away.

  After taking a leak and stretching, I drove into town, parking in front of the Cascade Café for some breakfast. Milton Treadway owned the place, and I’d met him once when he was sweeping the walk in front of his door. I’d been skating by, and he told me to mind not knocking him down and breaking his hip.

  The Cascade was where all the old-timers met every morning over coffee, and it was in full swing. I took a seat at the bar and Milton took my order, his craggy and wrinkled face almost hiding a set of bright eyes. He looked at me, taking in the John Deere cap on my head and the work boots on my feet, and smiled. “Look a mite different than the last time I seen you.”

  I smiled. “Smells good in here.”

  He gave a gravelly laugh. “Might be the only place in town for breakfast, but it’s the best.” Then he was back at the griddle, cooking up orders.

  A few minutes later, he plopped down a huge plate of biscuits, sausage gravy, and two eggs done over easy. All the orders had been cooked for the time being, and Milton leaned his elbow on the counter, eyeing me. “I hear yer daddy’s opening a rest-o-ront down the street.”

  I nodded, sopping up gravy with a chunk of biscuit. “Yeah.”

  “Hear it’s going to be a fancy steakhouse-type thing. Like you might find in the city.”

  “Yep.”

  He wiped the counter. “Can’t say I wouldn’t like to have myself a good steak every once in a while that I don’t cook. All the trimmings and such. The wife just might like that, too. Womenfolk like gettin’ taken out, you know. All fancied up and such.”

  I finished up. “Yeah. I heard Edward say it won’t be too expensive, either. Big steaks.”

  Milton took my plate. “Might just be a good thing around here.”

  I left then, leaving six bucks on the counter, and drove home. I parked at the curb, hopped out, went to the shed, and got my tool belt. Ten minutes later, Miss Mae came outside. She nodded. “Good boy.”