20. Special K Wonders What He’s Doing

Chapter twenty

Special K Wonders What He's Doing

S toring my stuff in a unit was the easy part. Buying out my lease on the apartment was a little more difficult, but I did it anyway. Then, I rented a car and drove across Florida to see my parents.

I pulled into their drive and turned the car off. What was I expecting? Comfort? Understanding? Advice? Maybe all that was too much to ask for. The last time I saw them, they said goodbye and good luck and that was it.

The front door opened, and Momma stood on the front porch, waiting. I got out of the car and went up the three concrete block steps to stand in front of her. "Hi, Momma."

"Kyler." She opened her arms, and I fell into her hug. It was everything I needed and didn't even realize it until that moment. "What are you doing here, my boy? Hm? Come in and have some iced tea." Her sweet tea had always been absolutely the best, and it was no different now.

We sat on the living room sofa, possibly older than me but still comfortable, and sipped our tea. It was cold, refreshing, and sweet enough to make my teeth hurt. It reminded me of when I was a kid and would play outside until I was so hot I came begging for something cold to drink, and Momma always gave me iced tea. Until Wren died. I was older then, and everything had changed.

"So?" she asked.

"I had trouble at work with my partner."

"Work partner? I didn't know you'd been assigned. Are you in the field already?"

I nodded. "We found a great case, and they let us go in the field, yeah."

She shook me a little. "I thought that's what you wanted." It hadn't been what she wanted. But she didn't make a fuss. Maybe I would have rather had the fuss. At least I would have known she cared, but she seemed to care now.

"I did. I do. But Doolittle, my partner…"

"Not a good partner?" she asked, and I could hear concern in her voice. Maybe I'd been judging her too harshly.

"No, he's good. Too good. We, uh, we kind of…I don't know how to say it."

"Became romantically involved?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

She sighed. "I see it in your eyes. And it made sense. Everything is great except your partner, who is good, but…what else would it be?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. But you're right. But now I think I've lost him too."

"Too? Did you lose your job?"

"Not yet. I've been suspended. Basically, for PDA in the field."

"Kyler…" she tsked.

"I know, I know." I stood and put my glass on the coffee table. "We didn't tell the boss. We didn't want them to separate us, and that's what happens when you're in the field. They don't want you to be too involved with your partner. It's dangerous."

"I can understand that."

"I can too, but it doesn't make this easier." I paced across the small living room to the front door and back to the far wall. "And then I blamed Doolittle."

"That's the partner, right?"

"Yes. I said mean things."

"Why?"

"I was angry and wanted to blame someone."

"I know all about that." She patted the couch. "Let me tell you something." I sat and she took a long sip of her tea. Then she sighed and stared at me. Her eyes were so much like mine, a deep, dark green and way too knowing. "After your brother died. I wanted to blame everyone. Your dad. You. SPAM. The government. God. The Devil. I went through the entire list. But the whole time, I was really blaming myself. And you know what?"

"No."

"None of that was true. None of it helped. There was nothing and no one to blame. I was angry. That was justifiable. But the blame?" She shook her head, breaking eye contact. "All that got me was a lot of extra years of heartache. Delayed my grieving process. Nearly lost my other son."

"Momma…"

"No, it's true. I know. And I didn't even realize it until you joined SPAM. And maybe that was because they were already on my list to blame. I don't know." She shrugged. "But you're a smart boy. Always were. And when you went away to college, I was proud of you. I still am. You should be proud of you too. And don't go blaming yourself or your Doolittle. When there is no one to blame. Accept it."

"I don't know if I want to accept it."

"Hmm…so stubborn. But it sounds like you're making trouble where there isn't any. Suspended and fired are two different things, Kyler."

My phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket to look, in case it was Leader One, but knowing it wouldn't be. It was Doolittle. Again. I sighed and put it away without answering it. Momma gave me the mother-knows-look that always made me talk. "Yeah, that was Doolittle. He keeps calling."

"And you keep not answering, I suppose?"

I nodded. "I'm not ready to talk to him."

"He's trying. You don't think you owe him at least a conversation?"

"I probably owe him more than that. But I'm not ready. And he keeps pushing."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet. But can I stay here a few days? Until I figure it out?"

"You know you can. This door is always open."

I thanked her with a huge hug, then went to my old childhood room. It hadn't changed much since I was a teenager. The giant K was still on the wall over the double bed. Dad had cut it out of plywood and painted it blue, my favorite color, when I was twelve. Wren had a red W over his bed in his room, and I wondered if they had kept all of that the same as well but was too afraid to go look.

On the opposite wall, a bookshelf stuffed with books reminded me of the countless hours I spent reading under the blankets with a flashlight. On the only other empty wall, a corkboard was stuck with pins that held up maps. Some faded to yellow, some dried gray. They were all the places I wanted to go. There was adventure blood in me. Wren used to tell me that all the time. It started when we were little, playing pirates in the tree house. I looked out my window and could make out the platform, still clinging to the tree branches after all these years. Though, I doubted it would hold me now.

I sat on the bed. I didn't know what to do. Go back to Doolittle? Go back to SPAM? Did I have to choose? Or maybe neither. I could go forward. Maybe to one of the places on those maps.

Doolittle had called and texted, but I ignored it all. I looked at my phone. I could talk to him. I could look at his messages, listen to the voicemail. Or not.

Until I knew what I really wanted, I didn't think I would do anything.

I kicked off my loafers, lay back on the bed, and stared at the ceiling, wishing the answers were written in the popcorn texture.

Leader One finally reached out to me, and I agreed to come in and talk with him a few days later. I still hadn't made any decisions, but perhaps a conversation with him would help. At least then, maybe I'd have some options laid out.

I finally peeked at one of Doolittle's texts.

I'm sorry. I don't know what to do. Please talk to me.

That did not help. At all. I turned my phone off and made my way to Leader One's office, glad it would be a private conversation. I didn't want Doolittle involved. This wasn't about him. It was about me. That much I understood. Where he fit in would have to be determined after I sorted myself out first.

"Please sit." Leader One indicated the two chairs in front of his desk. I picked one and sat.

"Thank you, sir."

"First, let me start by saying I have no intention of losing you. SPAM needs you."

"Thank you, but honestly, I don't know why. I mean, I'm smart. I get it, but maybe I should have been satisfied as an analyst behind the desk or something and not going out in the field." I'd insisted on going in the field because I wanted excitement, and it would be the best way to make a difference.

"Before we go any further in this discussion, I have to disclose some information to you."

"Sir?"

He handed me a tablet. "These are findings that came up when we tested you for the triplet hypnosis."

I glanced at it. There was a laundry list of cognitive abilities that I had. Super abilities. I was a little stunned, but I'd always been ahead of the class. Being smart was a part of me, natural or super didn't matter. At least not to me. "Is this why you want to keep me here?"

"Partially. But I'm not discounting the work you and Doolittle did. For first-year rookies, you both showed remarkable skill, determination, commitment, and ability. The only thing you didn't do was make good decisions regarding your emotional situation. Something you can learn from."

I shrugged. "I don't…I'm going to be honest with you, sir. I don't know any other way to be."

"Go on."

"I don't know what I want anymore."

"Don't let this thing with Doolittle impact you negatively. You have a promising career ahead of you. I know you enjoyed partnering with him. And you were a good team. But I can't have you in the field together. That doesn't mean you can't make a difference."

"I get it. But, like I said, maybe I shouldn't be in the field. I don't have to be that active to make a difference, do I?" Everything I had thought about myself and my future was being challenged.

"No, there are many positions you could take that would be impactful. We only need to know where your passion is."

I thought about it. Hard. Thought about Wren. Thought about Broxston. "I'm thinking about going into recruiting."

"What?"

"I know. It seems far from what I had thought I wanted, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. I spent a few days with my parents, you know. I thought about my brother a lot. I want to help kids who are getting their powers and don't know what's happening. Like Wren. Like Broxston."

"That was good casework, by the way. Unfortunately, I can't tell you how that worked out or where Broxston is."

"I'm not asking, sir. I only want to make a difference. The kind that's real and personal."

"Okay. I'll look into our programs and see what we can find for a new agent." He tapped his desk and pursed his lips. He'd said agent. I wanted to question that but took it at face value. I did have a superpower, according to SPAM scientists, so now I have a promotion to go with it. Agent Special K. "What about Doolittle?" he asked. "Are you and him going to continue the relationship?"

I blew out a long, slow breath. "I don't know. I still have a lot to think about."

"I see. Well, he's turning out to be a good agent. Needs work, especially on his self-esteem."

I laughed at that assessment. "Nope. He thinks highly enough of himself. He simply doesn't know what he's supposed to do. He needs to work on his purpose. And I don't think I helped him at all with that."

"I think you helped him more than you know."

"Maybe, but if his purpose is me, then he's not really living."