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>To quote Uncle Jesse "if every word I said could make >you laugh I'd talk forever." Or in this case, for one >more chapter. > >--- > >It was the call I didn’t know how to handle and yet >had every reason to expect. > >Celery left – what else was there for Carrots to do >but go get him? Kyle’s first words were “It wasn’t my >idea” and I believe it’s true, but I fully blame – if >not Kyle specifically – then his whole tribe, and the >insanity and stubborn-headedness inherent in their >genes. > >After Kyle’s summons, I hung up the phone sort of in a >daze, and made it out the door still on disconnect. > >As I sat on the floor of Kyle’s apartment, watching >him pack and mutter travel plans – reality struck back >with a vengeance. This was MADNESS. It was totally >expected and entirely reasonable when you consider >Carrots – but madness. This is near June we’re >talking about here people – graduation. It’s not like >I exactly give a fuck, but I think the school might. >Exams aren’t for another three and a half weeks, but >who knows how long this is going to take. I’m >guessing… not Carrots. And sure, school stuff’s just >the stuff I think about first so I can put off having >a panic attack thinking about my parent’s reaction – >but my concerns are still valid. > >As for my parents, well, I guess this is the moment. >The Universe’s given me plenty of time to get off the >fence, and now, I suppose, not satisfied with my >hesitant descent into the Vasskez lawn, its decided to >give me a push. I just hope I don’t break my neck on >the way down. > >--- > >So this is it. This is the Le Baron, this is at best >an ill-planned road trip, a barely conceived rescue >mission, this is the highway; the end of the road. >Leaving home, and I’m not letting myself think about >the very real possibility that I won’t have a home to >go home to. But in the background of my thoughts, >there’s Kyle and Carrots, bickering to work off >tension and comfort each other, and I know there’s no >other decision I could have made. > >--- > >I call my parents at the first place we stop at, while >Kyle’s getting gas and Carrots is in the bathroom, but >there’s no answer. I entertain briefly the idea that >they’re already on the road looking for us, and decide >not to call again. > >--- > >I freak out, occasionally verbally, rather frequently >in the first few minutes and hours. Mostly just >blowing off stream, trying desperately to get my head >to rejoin my body somewhere on this particular plane >of existence. Because I mean – there is no plan, and >if there was, it would probably be a bad plan. Hence, >my freaking. > >--- > >I pause, somewhere around Saskatoon, to wonder whether >or not I’m going to have to stop Kyle from trying to >kick Celery’s ass. For a moment, thinking about Kyle >and forgetting about the part where it’s Celery, it >almost seems likely, but then of course, an image of >Celery’s sure to be shell shocked expression upon >seeing us comes to mind, and I’m sure Kyle will be as >susceptible to it as the rest of us. Kyle’s got a >reflex that’s extra strong for Carrots, but he’s got >over blown-blessed-protector syndrome for all of us. >Celery, with his swimming blue eyes and residual >abandonment issues, has always inspired a special kind >of ferocity in Kyle. In all of us really. > >Which I suppose might by why we all handled it so >badly when we found out he had started letting other >people do our jobs for us. > >--- > >I realize I have no real idea how to make Kyle feel >better. In this, or in anything else, really. > >Kyle’s used to making himself feel better, and thus, >despite being very good at helping others, he’s no >better at letting me help him than I am. He’s on this >trip, he’s taken the wheel (literally) and is finally >functioning again, but it’s not because of me, or of >what I’ve tried to do, how I’ve tried to help him. >He’s doing something, finally, taking action, and >that’s his way, finally working for him again. Our >self-sufficiency comes from vastly different >circumstances, temperaments, and manifests itself in >very different ways, but really, we’re the same. > >That’s the thing, I suppose, that initially attracted >us to each other, first in friendship, then as >something more. Before it was about saving and >wanting to be saved, we united against Carrots and >Celery, against strangeness, even, if you’ll recall, >against the gay. Aside from the rather monumental >irony of that, the important bit is that it was about >the sameness at the start for us, all the ways we fit >together as people. And despite the way our >differences plague my psyche, in many ways, it still >is. > >For the most part, we care about the same people. >We’re both quick to anger, although Kyle usually >prefers to confront his, while I typically run from >mine. We have the same tastes in most things, >although Kyle seems to think his tastes in music, >movies and TV are more mainstream than they are. We >laugh at the same things. The same things (family, >friendship, loyalty) are important to us, although >sometimes our definitions are different. > >These are thoughts for the road, I realize, and as I >think them, the vastness of the prairie stretches out >towards the horizon. > >--- > >I am going insane, but quietly, and deep inside my >head, so no one sees or hears. I hadn’t thought – >until now – with far too many hours ahead and nothing >but flat, flat prairie everywhere, about why Celery >left. My thoughts were permanently stuck on the how >and bafflement lasting there. We talked once, on the >phone, when I’d just found myself living there, and he >hadn’t known what to say – but that hadn’t worried me >then, it triggered nothing more than the slightest >niggle in my mind, because I hadn’t either. And I’d >assumed it was for the same reasons as me, and I >hadn’t even considered pushing – having a vague >suspicion that I was already a dick and would be one >even more so if I pushed him for sympathy or advice >about a situation that had landed me safely in the >welcoming arms of the family he’d been forced to >leave. But Celery’s more complicated than that and I >should have remembered the fact. I might not have >been together enough to help him myself, but maybe I >could have at least alerted someone who was. But >instead I noticed and did nothing – and it’s not like >I think I could have stopped this, really, I just feel >like there had to be something, some way to have >prevented me from being in this car, slowly but surely >losing my mind, driving further and further away from >the only home I’ve ever known, rapidly approaching >disaster. > >--- > >A conversation between Carrots and Kyle, while they >thought I was asleep. > >“So… Rempel?” > >“Yep.” > >“Not Wheaten.” > >“Nope.” > >“Ben… Jonas… Rempel…?” > >“Right.” > >“So what, did I like make that Wheaten thing up?” > >“Yeah I think so.” > >There’s a long, thoughtful pause. > >“That sounds like me.” > >--- > >“Are you alright?” Kyle ventures around Lloyd >Minster, as Carrots zones half asleep under his >headphones. > >The intensity of his gaze is being wasted on the >highway for the most part, and still I shift >uncomfortably in my seat. I fiddle with the fraying >edges of the seams of my jeans for awhile before >answering. > >“I can’t…” I take a breath, trying to think of a >better way to start, and I come to the conclusion that >starting is the last thing I want to do. “Look, I’m >here aren’t I? I came – isn’t that, doesn’t that tell >you everything you need to know? Do we really have to >have the talk?” The impatience in my tone is doing a >poor job of covering up the panic. I can hardly think >about what I’m doing, what I’ve done, just getting in >this car. I can’t realistically be expected to TALK >about it too, can I? > >Kyle is reaching over, hand briefly squeezing my knee >before returning to the steering wheel before the >panic can even get into full swing. I shudder against >the force of relief as it exits through a sigh. I >look at him gratefully, something he may or may not >have caught through his peripheral. Either way, he >doesn’t say anything else, eyes still focused on the >road, the prairie town disappearing behind us. > >--- > >When Carrots gives us the talk, half inspirational >speech half fucked up love poem, my heart twists and >swells in a few contradictory ways, but when he turns >to me I shake it all out, and a moment shows us how it >can be simple again. Brothers. Friends. People who >care about each other reaffirming a vow to always put >that first and to never leave anyone behind. > >Like the marines. > >We will be all that we can be, and we will be it for >each other. > >--- > >I cannot express to you how entirely unimpressed I am >with this whole Saul situation. I refuse to even >attempt to get to know him, because I’m afraid he >might be likeable. That’s the last thing I want to >deal with. > >When Carrots came back to the Le Baron and told us >Celery wasn’t living with Them anymore – I was more >confused than anything else. Where else could he >possibly be? Nothing had ever made less sense than >Celery somewhere other than Carrots if the choice was >there, and yet Carrots was saying something about some >kid named Saul. He sent us away to deal with the >carnage himself, and Kyle and I sat in the Le Baron >for a good 20 minutes, rendered incapable of speech or >movement. Eventually Kyle’s take action mechanism >kicked in and he started he car, driving us back to >the hotel, but I remained much as I had been, >clutching painfully onto my knees, staring straight >ahead, thinking about all the ways I couldn’t believe >this was my life. > >--- > >The minute we walk through the door, I know Celery has >me entirely figured out and he knows the same about >me. I’m distracted for a minute, worrying about Kyle, >who I knew, up until the very moment, even through the >whole journey to Calgary, wasn’t sure how he was going >to react to seeing Celery. In the end, it’s okay, >because his big brother love wins out, like it should, >and he hugs Celery hard, giving a short, but >appropriate speech and backing away, knowing Celery >and I will need the room. > >We stare at each other, trying to clarify and >enunciate the things we inherently knew, and he beats >me by a second, his open eyes clouding with >compassion. He says some things that don’t give >anything away but let me know he gets is, and then we >hug, and it’s good, like finally, all the insanity of >these past few weeks, months, make some kind of sense, >just because I know there’s someone else who doesn’t >understand anymore than I do, in exactly the same way. > >We go into his room, Celery following me in. I look >around the room, eyes resting on all the little >things, all the small touches that tell me this is >Celery’s room, one of many in Celery’s home, that >somehow between when he arrived and now that became >possible, and he looks at me, just being there at all >– and we both start to cry. Big selfish tears all >about what we’ve lost and shame at how clearly the >other sees it. We don’t talk. We just look at each >other and take breaks in between to cry more. >Somewhere along the line the tears turn to laughter – >no less desperate or sad. But then eventually even >that stops and the things in our eyes start being >about love and brotherhood again. We don’t actually >hug, but it’s like we do, and when we leave the room >his arm comes up to rest on my shoulders. > >And then for awhile, life is safe again. It’s all >about Carrots and Celery and its chaos and its pain, >but it makes sense. I understand how I care about >them, and want to fix them, how to bleed for them. My >hands and heart are full watching Celery and trying to >ease Kyle’s baffled rage as it breaks over him. I’m >ready for him when he’s done pacing and I keep the >conversations going the way they should, in the >brothers way, reminding all of us who we are. > >When they’re around, everything is fine. I’m too >busy, too involved to remember what I’ve left, or to >wonder about whether or not I regret it. I focus on >my brothers, I do everything I can to be what they >need me to be, and minute by minute I breathe a little >easier, getting closer and closer to believing that’s >the person I can really be.

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