CHAPTER 21 - Amon

R osie is quiet as we walk . Even after we get to the bowling alley and sort out the shoes, and the balls, and the lane, she is still quiet.

But she's not frowning. She's actually smiling pretty big because that whole time Cross was jabbering about his day she took great pleasure in listening to him. I think she likes the idea of him and I hanging out.

Now Cross is preoccupied with my sisters. Halo in particular, since at sixteen she is closest in age. But they are all friendly girls. And anyway, everyone in Disciple loves Cross Harlow because he's perpetually in a good mood, doesn't get in much trouble, and his mother is Rosie, who is kind of a legend in this town for more than one reason. So there is no awkwardness between the five of them.

Even though I understand why Rosie has been quiet, I feel the need to ask about it because I did break the news that her son's father is dead just a couple days after she came to terms with the idea that he might still be alive and all of this feels very much like my fault. "Everything OK?"

Rosie is sitting on the bench behind the score table, watching all the bowling action. But she looks up at me now. "More than OK. Why do you ask?"

"You're just quiet."

"It's a happy quiet."

I sit down next to her, leaning back so I can stretch my arm out just behind her shoulder. "I figured it might be, but thought I'd inquire just to make sure."

She gives me a sideways look, her eyes grinning. "That was smooth."

We both laugh because it really was a teenage-boy move. "I do my best."

She leans back now so that the side of her head leans on my shoulder, and lets out a long sigh. "Like I said this morning when you told me, it feels a little like shame, Amon. It's just this sick feeling inside me that I… behaved badly." She straightens up so she can look at me. "That's what it is. Not looking for him after Cross was born—just giving up like that and accepting things—has always felt like a low moment in my life. Like I failed to live up to my own expectations. It might even be part of my condition."

My eyebrow goes up. "Your… condition?"

"That's just what I call the loneliness in my head. That's why I work so many jobs, ya know? It's why I write fictional desperately-seeking-somebodies, and fuss over those dresses, and keep the cottage and printshop. It's a way to block out the fact that I lost the game of love."

"You didn't lose."

She smiles. "Well, I know that now. But this is a brand-new thing, Amon. Two weeks, that's all. The other twelve years are still up here." She taps her head with a pale pink fingernail. "And the funny thing is, I don't think I understood that I was sad all this time." She squints her eyes at me, shaking her head a little. "It's a weird feeling to realize you've been something for such a long time, you didn't know how to be any other way."

I stare off in the distance, focusing on the people all down the alleys as they throw their balls, and laugh, and have a good time. But I have a realization myself. That if I had gone to Rosie that day in the cafeteria, I'd have fallen in love with her. I would've driven her to the hospital instead of Mr. What's-his-name from tenth-grade English and I would've been there when Cross was born. I would not have left. And even though I have regrets about a lot of things that I did instead, it was all necessary to get right here to this actual moment. Because there was a craving inside me when I was eighteen. A craving to see more, and do everything, and live a less perfect life than the one staged here in Disciple. And if I had stayed, that craving would've never gone away.

That craving would've ruined everything.

"Well." I sigh and look down at Rosie. "It's a brand-new start then, isn't it?"

She nods, snuggling her face up into my neck. "It sure is. A very nice one at that."

Suddenly Cross comes bounding over and sits on the other side of me. "We're staying the night at your house tonight, right?"

Rosie and I haven't discussed the details, but there's really nothing to discuss. Not until we figure out this stalker situation. So I answer him before she does. "Yep. You're staying."

"Good," Cross says. "I love it out there. I like your men, too. They're cool. I wanna be just like them."

I would like to point out that all my men, as he puts it, are permanently scarred from all the terrible shit they did in the military, and Edge Security is their last and final chance. But that's something the boy doesn't yet need to know.

Sensing my hesitation, Cross says, "I should train with them. Every day for the rest of the summer. What do you think? Can I do that?"

"Cross," Rosie starts, "you are a boy. Your job is to play all summer so you're good and rested for the next school year."

"I'm not a boy." Cross's words come out angry. "Stop saying that. And what good are summer breaks if you can't do something important? I want to do something important. I want to be someone important. And if this is not the perfect time, then when is?" He looks at me now. "You know what I'm talking about, Amon."

And there it is. He's me, all over again, craving something bigger than what he has because he needs to know what he's missing. He's gonna leave, I can see it coming. But not yet. He's only twelve. We've got time. So I make him a pacifying promise. "We'll shoot some more, Cross. Don't worry. And we'll go huntin' in the fall."

Cross stands up, his fists clenched like he's frustrated to no end. "Not just that. I want to do all of it. I want to be like them. I want my own tactical gear, and I wanna learn how to work the dogs, and I wanna do all of it. This is the perfect time." He looks at his mother with pleading eyes. "Why are you always treating me like a baby? I'm gonna leave, you know. As soon as I turn eighteen, I'm joining the marines too."

Then he stomps off towards the arcade near the bar.

Rosie stands up to go after him, but I grab her hand. "Let him go, Rosie. You'll just make him angrier if you corner him in public. He'll get embarrassed and then he'll say things he doesn't mean."

She sighs. "What was that about? That threat to join the marines? Because it didn't look like embarrassment to me, Amon."

"No. He's dead set on being a badass, I guess. And if that's how he sees his future, then nothing you say about it will make a difference."

"So I should what? Fit him with tactical gear? Hand him a high-powered rifle and send him to survival camp or something?"

"Let him stay on the compound. I'll be there. I'll watch out for him and when I can't, Collin will. It's the safest place, really."

"I don't mind that part. It's the threats. That's what I don't like. He acts like I'm his enemy."

"Well, you're his mother. A boy needs space from his mother if he is to grow into a man."

"Why?" She collapses down next to me. "Why does it have to be that way? Because I don't think it's fair. He's twelve, Amon. I should have him to myself for a few more years, if you ask me."

I put my arm around her and give her a squeeze. "Well, then. It is now my mission to make sure you get those years. Don't worry, I'll talk to him."

She lets out a long breath. "Thank you. I know you don't have to do this, that he isn't your responsibility?—"

"Just stop."

She looks up at me and smiles. "Are you my one, Amon Parrish? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Rosie, you're like an ironic spring morning when the flowers are popping from the black dirt while the snow falls all around them. It's a special kind of morning that only happens every now and then. The kind you can't replicate because it shouldn't be happening at all. There is no one else on this earth quite like you. And if you'll have me, I'm here for the duration."

Her eyes go dreamy, like she's swoonin'. Then she settles back into my shoulder with a sigh. "Has anyone ever told you that you say all the right things at just the right time?"

"Once or twice, maybe. But they were lawyers and I was sitting in front of a panel of angry congressmen in DC."

She snickers. "That is probably a story I need to know more about."

"Eventually," I say. "But it's over, Rosie. All that's over and now that I'm home, and with you, I'm never leaving again."

Cross is still angry and Rosie is still upset on the ride back to the compound and I feel like I need to say something here. Like I should explain Rosie's point of view to Cross because I actually agree with her.

Twelve is too young. I mean, if he were some martial arts phenom and had been into it his whole life with some kind of big goal, like the world championships or something, then maybe. If he had put in all that effort it would be criminal not to support him, but a trajectory like that when you're young carries a whole lot of risks. So even then, the answer would not be an automatic ‘yes.'

But that's not how this is playing out at all. Cross has big dreams, but all he's done about it so far is whine and complain about how his mother treats him like a kid.

Which is fair because she does treat him like a kid, but that's because he is a kid.

I guess, if I was his father, I'd sit him down and give him the hard truth. The whole you-haven't-earned-this speech. I got that speech from my father right about his age too. I wanted the same thing. That's why I joined the military practically the moment I turned eighteen.

But my father was gentle with his speech and I think that was the right approach. He was trying to blend encouragement with independence. And when I left Disciple, they were proud of me. They supported me one hundred percent.

I think this is the right way forward with Cross as well and I think I should maybe have a talk with him before bed. It's no good going to sleep angry because you just wake up the same way.

So after we pull into the Edge compound and I park the truck in front of my house, I tell Rosie, "Go inside. We'll be there in a minute."

She wants to ask what this is about, but she must read my face and decide to hold her tongue because she just nods and then does as I ask.

Cross hangs back as the lights inside flick on, perhaps sensing that he and I are gonna have a talk, or maybe he's just sulking. But either way, we're gonna get this all out in the open now.

"Have a seat, Cross." I point to the porch steps.

He lets out a long sigh, but sits.

I sit next to him, propping my elbows on my knees as we both stare out at the compound. There are still plenty of people around even though it's near midnight. The guys always get the weekends off, so this night will stay alive a little longer than most.

"Well," Cross says, "are you gonna have a talk with me or what?"

"I am," I say, leaning back, resting my elbows on the step behind me.

"Because you think I'm acting like a jerk, don't you?"

"A jerk?" I turn my head to the right to look at him. "No. You're not acting like a jerk. You're acting like…" I sigh because it's the wrong thing to say to a boy this age. But it's also the truth, and the truth wins out. "You're acting like a kid, Cross. That's why your mama's treating you like one."

"How do you mean?" His voice cracks and goes shrill. "I'm not! I'm just trying to tell her how I feel about things and she's not listening! She still thinks I'm a baby."

"Cross, I hate to break it to you, but she's always gonna see you as her baby. She's your mother. And the point I'm making here is that this isn't about her, this is about you, son. If you want to be a grown-up, you gotta act like one. Stop blaming your mother for holding you back when you're not doing nothin' to take a step forward."

"What do you mean?" His eyes are making this shocked expression.

"If you had been taking martial arts classes all your life and then your mama was trying to forbid you from fighting in some big championship, then I'd be having this talk with her instead of you. But what are you good at, Cross? What are you doing to better yourself and carve your own destiny? Because kids with goals have commitment. What are you committed to?"

He blinks at me. "What?"

"Are you in the shootin' club?"

"Well… no."

"Why not?"

He huffs, giving himself time to think up an answer. "They're all about hunting. And hunting is fine, but that's not what I want."

"You want to be dangerous."

"Like you!" He stands up, his hands out in a pleading gesture. "I just wanna be like you, Amon."

"OK. It's a start. But wanting something and getting something are two different things."

"Well, how am I supposed to get what I want if you guys won't let me do what I want?"

"You gotta change our minds, I guess."

He's mad again now, because his words come out growly. "And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Show me you're committed. Get up early and go into the kennel and help the men take care of the dogs. Get up early and come out here, and when those men run by, fall in behind them. And then keep up." I wink here. "That's how you carve your way, Cross. You make it happen."

He sighs and turns his back to me, staring out at the camp. After a few minutes of silence, he turns back. "Fine. Then that's what I'll do."

He doesn't wait for my reaction or my approval, he just walks up the steps and goes inside.

I let out a breath and smile.

It was a good talk.

So I go inside as well, but Cross closed his door and the room that Rosie slept in last night is dark and empty. When I look upstairs, there's a light on. And when I go up, she's in my bed.

She waves her fingers at me in a flirty way. "Hi."

I wave back, checking her out. "Hi."

"Did you have a nice talk?"

I nod. "I think we did." And then I take my shirt off, kick my boots off and take my pants off as I cross the room and get in bed next to her. She's wearing one of my t-shirts.

She points to it. "I found it in your closet. I hope you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all." But as I'm saying that, I'm reaching for the light on the nightstand. And then I'm settled in next to Rosie, her face buried in my neck.

She sighs. Tired, I think. And the next thing I know she's sleeping.

But I don't sleep. Not right away. I play with her hair a little and enjoy this. Because it's the start of something. Maybe she goes back to Lowyn's house in town, or maybe she stays here forever.

It doesn't matter.

One way or the other, we're really together now.