eight.
We purchased our tickets for the boat (it was only five dollars each), and sat in the van, waiting for the man at the gates of the boat to wave us on. We all had of our belongings on our laps. Connor began to cry; he loves this van, and the family in it. Theres one empty spot in the back now, and nobody had been brave enough to sit there. There had been ups, downs, surprises and shocks, but I thoroughly believe that we made history in that van. I owed it to our amazing group, lead by my amazing Connor. I really hope he understood that this was all possible because of him. Through sheer willpower to survive, he toted fourteen people across a continent. If that isn't something incredible, I don't know what is.
We were eventually allowed on the boat, and we quickly settled onto one of the benches on the side, sprawling out on the deck. The trip was supposed to take 18 hours. I figured I could use that time to reminisce, but instantly shook the thought from my head- lingering on the past is like re-applying the band-aid. It has to came off eventually.
For most of the trip, I slept in Connor's embrace. He felt somehow softer, like all of his tension was gone and now he was just made of mure happy. That was a great comfort to me.
Church shook me awake when we docked. I felt weightless as we stepped into New York. I was shaking. Zelder and Schrader clung to each other as we got on the shuttle. Everyone was going back, we were staying together as a family in safety and I knew that, without a doubt, this was the way forward.
Mafala put his arm around Arnold and told him that he was happy that Nabu was with him, and that he was like a second son. This made Arnold burst into tears (happy, of course). Zelder and Schrader wanted to move to Seattle so that they could get married ("Too each other?" "Oh yeah, about that. We're kind of… together. Sorry for not telling you." "WHAT THE HECK?!"), and promised to stay in touch. This meant that we would be leaving without them, but they swore on their lives to stay in contact.
While we drove, we did anything we could to keep our minds off of our impending separation from Zelder and Schrader. We sang, talked, ate the food that we had saved. We slept and joked. We did what any family would do; we loved.
We arrived in Salt Lake the next day, around noon. They had built a great wall around most of it, which was incredibly impressive. We got let out, and after a long, painful goodbye from Schrader and Zelder, we went into the city. With some minor exceptions, everything was more or less the same. We went our separate ways, and decided to meet at the Copper Onion in a few hours. The first stop Connor and I made was his parents house. They welcomed him with open arms, and me as well. They had taken his coming-out letter extremely well, and completely approved. He had two little sisters who absolutely adored him, and whom he adored in returned. I was ecstatic to be welcomed into this new family.
We stopped at my house next. My dad didn't take the news as well, but my mom and siblings acted as if nothing had changed, and assured me that dad still loved me and would support me no matter what. That was a comfort to hear. I got to see my sisters and Jack and taste mother's cooking and give dad a handshake. Connor was like a second son to my mom; she was absolutely enamoured with him.
We met Arnold, Nabu, Mafala, Gotswana, Church and Poptarts at the Copper Onion, as promised, and decided to all buy an apartment together. So much of the population was gone, and the apartments and houses were going for cheap. Until we could get one, Arnold said that we could stay at his parent's place. We all readily agreed.
That night, after a hearty dinner from the Cunningham's, Connor and I settled into one of the small guest rooms. We were under the blankets, holding each other tightly, fully relieved. We were too tired to cry, all we could do was move to a rhythm only audible to the two of us.
That was a night of firsts, of not-firsts and of all-around elation. It was the first night in… well, forever, that he didn't have a hell dream. I think that approval from his family took some of the fear away. But I know that, no matter what, there will always be a part of him that doesn't love himself. But that's why he has me; I will gladly fill that part with more than what is necessary. Forever.
He sang to me as we fell asleep, a loud, upbeat tune sang in a hushed whisper. I only caught the last part as I drifted off.
The opposite of war isn't peace, it's creation! La Vie Boheme, Viva la Vie Boheme!