Chapter 11:
The next morning the three followed the same plan as the day prior. At the garden wall Wirt hugged Greg tightly, as if at the release of his grasp the seven-year-old would disappear. It constantly felt like he was holding onto a dream.
"Be safe."
"Sure thing oh-brother-oh-mine!"
On the way to school Sara turned to Wirt with a comforting smile. "Are you going to talk to Mr. Johnson today?"
"Yeah, yeah. I think so," Wirt said, looking down at the handlebar of his bike.
Though as the school day came and went it became apparent to Sara that Mr. Johnson experienced another failed attempt to get Wirt to talk. The same flustered face approached Sara at her locker at the end of the day.
"Let's just get Greg ok?"
"Ok."
The rest of the afternoon went, surprisingly, as planned. Wirt and Sara rode their bikes to the creek behind the garden wall, where they found little Greg laying in the grass. No burrs or leaves covering him, though this time it seemed that he found his way into the water, as he was covered in mud.
"I'm the mud monster! Rawrarwr!" Greg laughed upon their arrival. Sara reciprocated the laughter. Wirt stayed silent.
It was strange, on only the second day of Greg's visit their routine became, well, routine. With Greg huddled under Wirt's coat, the three rode their bikes to Wirt's house, where Greg was given a bath and then became entertained by the TV, which was playing a show about frogs.
"Gee, Jason Funderburker would love this!" Greg exclaimed.
"Jason hates frogs," Wirt retaliated with a blank expression, his hollow eyes fixated on the television. Sara rolled her eyes at the snarky remark.
"Silly Wirt, I mean Jason Funderburker the frog!" Greg giggled, reminiscing about his beloved pet.
Sara stood up and checked her watch. 5:47. She turned to Wirt. "Hey, wanna go outside? Greg can stay here." Wirt nodded and stood.
Their backyard was similar to that of most of the homes on his block. A small square plot of grass with a garage and driveway to the left. Though when Greg was alive the yard was, too. Toys would be scattered across the lawn, all of which received lots of loving attention from Greg. The small swingset treehouse in the back corner became his fortress, the flowers his guards and the lawn a moat. An endless imagination and an empty yard - the perfect equation for a child's happiness. Now, the yard sat cold and empty, as it had been since Greg was admitted to the hospital. As he and Sara stepped out the back door, Wirt realized he hadn't been back here since he played with Greg. It gave Wirt an empty feeling.
Luckily for the two, the swingset remained intact enough for them to sit, swinging ever so slightly with the subtle push of their feet. They were quiet, watching the last bit of sun fade away, revealing a cold and dark night. Wirt thought it was kind of symbolic, and made a mental note to incorporate this memory into one of his poems.
Surprisingly, he was the first to speak. "I love this time of night," he said quietly, staring at the perpetual night sky.
"I know you do," she replied.
Silence followed. It was nice, though. A mental break from the pure insanity that was their current lives. They breathed in the cold, pungent air, unknowing matching their rate of breath.
"Can you tell me what happened earlier," Sara said, finally turning her head and forcing him to look back. In Wirt's glance he could tell she was tired. She slumped; her upbeat aura had seemed to fade. Wirt couldn't help but feel as though it was his fault.
"Yeah," he sighed, reluctantly not putting up a fight. "Mr. Johnson asked me what was wrong again and I just, I don't know, I kinda just flipped. Again."
Sara smacked her face in exhaustion. "But why, Wirt? All he was doing was trying to help you!"
"I know, I know," He replied in embarrassment.
"And," she continued, "I know this is a lot for you, like a lot. I can't put myself in your shoes entirely but I feel for you and this sucks and I'm sorry. But, like, this sucks for me too!" She huffed. "I don't know, I'm just tired and confused. I'm sure you are feeling that much more."
Wirt shook his head, looking at her softly. "No, Sara, I totally get it. This is crazy and I'm sorry you had to be thrust into this. It's unfair." He looked up to the sky. "You think I should open up to Mr. Johnson?" He asked.
"I mean, I think you should apologize at the very least. And also, yes, yes I do. I get that it's hard to open up, but he's someone you can trust, here's here for you, Wirt." He nodded. "And honestly, what's the worst that could happen? I'm pretty sure you bottling up all of your emotions isn't doing you any better. Also, why the hell aren't you in therapy? We need to get on that."
Wirt chuckled at that last part. She was right about everything, though. He needed to just talk to someone, someone else who would willingly listen (unlike his parents). He gave a small smile. "Sara, thank you. I-I don't really know what else to say."
She smiled back. "You're welcome, Wirt."
Wirt looked down at his feet, seemingly contemplating every stitch and lace of his black converse, which had grown dirty and worn-down with their excessive use. Sara noticed he was thinking deeply, he always furrowed his eyebrows. She waited for him to talk, she knew he would say something.
"I've been thinking about my dad a lot lately."
"Like, your dad dad?"
"Yeah. My dad dad." He kicked at the dirt spot where his feet laid before continuing. "I don't know, I just, I haven't heard from him in so long. He hasn't even bothered to send a note on my birthday since I was 12 or something."
Sara looked at him and sighed. "I'm sorry Wirt. That sucks so much."
"Yeah it's alright," he replied. "Like, you'd think that after my fucking brother died he would send me a note, at the very least. But no. Nothing. And I, I don't know, but I feel like that's why I'm having such a hard time talking to Mr. Johnson. I know he means no harm and all but like, my dad should be the one asking me to talk. My dad should be here by my side. We were, like, best friends, Sara. I told him everything. How can someone just leave like that? Cause now I'm stuck with a mom and step-dad who don't want to hear shit from me and some random-ass teacher taking on the role of a father that could so easily be in my life, but isn't." Wirt was flustered with anger, kicking at the spot of dirt on the ground. Sara reached over and started rubbing his back.
Sara looked at him with her big, brown eyes. "Wirt, Wirt, it's ok. You're ok," she said in a whisper as he calmed a bit. "I'm so sorry. This is so not fair at all." Wirt sniffled.
"I'm sorry, I hate getting worked up like that," he said, obviously embarrassed.
Sara looked at him, confused. "Literally why are you sorry? You're dad is such a dick, Wirt. And honestly, if he doesn't give a damn to be in your incredible life, then he's not worth talking to whatsoever. If he didn't give a damn about Greg, then fuck him!" She exclaimed, stomping on the same patch of dirt Wirt had kicked. He looked up amazed and smiled.
"Yeah," he said, standing with her. "Yeah! Yeah, fuck him!" Wirt said, stomping his foot right next to Sara's. She beamed at him, and soon the two were kicking up a sandstorm, stomping and kicking the ground, shouting in fury and glee, pumping their fists. It was the most alive Wirt had felt in a very long time.
After their impromptu rampage had calmed a bit, the two, breathing heavily and giggling, plopped back down on the swings.
They sat staring at the black sky, forgetting entirely about how cold it was. Being in each other's presence was enough to warm them. Plus, they both worked up a sweat from the kicking around. However, their temporary solace came to an end as Sara's watch beeped, alarming them of the time. 7:00.
"We should go inside," Sara said, standing up.
"Sara, uh, I-," He exhaled. "Thank you. Again."
She offered a hand and smiled. "Come on, let's get Greg ready for bed."
The two went inside and did exactly that. After 30 minutes of brushing teeth, getting into PJ's and reading a picture book (about frogs), they tucked Greg in his makeshift bed and turned off the lights, both placing a small kiss on his forehead before exiting the bedroom.
Downstairs, Wirt helped Sara collect her stuff before heading out. As she was putting on her helmet, Wirt announced some exciting news. To which Sara replied:
"Woah, wait your parents-I, uh, I mean your mom and step-dad-are going for the entire weekend? You're joking."
"I'm most certainly not," Wirt replied with a smile. "They're going up to my step-dad's parent's house, I guess they need to be out of our house for a bit. They already knew I wouldn't come. Also," Wirt said, looking at his feet, "You could, uh, you could stay here for the weekend if you wa-"
He was interrupted with her grabbing his face and kissing him. Wirt quickly reciprocated the action, his legs turning to jello and nearly giving out. He had to keep himself from whimpering when she pulled away.
"Wirt, this is such a big deal, omigosh the stars just aligned for us, didn't they?" Sara beamed. She grabbed his shoulders tightly, almost shaking him. He blushed hard. "Wirt, this just saved our asses. Including Greg's. Also, I don't know if me kissing you answered your question but yes I am definitely staying with you this weekend."
Wirt grinned, reaching out to hug her. She felt so warm, like a towel that had just come out of the dryer. Wirt walked her to the door and waved goodbye as she hopped on her bike.
"Ride safe! I love you!"
"I will, and I love you more," she smiled.