The day before Teddy's funeral, Gordie and Chris walked past Gordie's old house. A new family had moved in, and the two story looked so full of life and vibrant. It was a black family and they were out in the front yard, playing outside. The dad chased the two kids, a boy and a girl, in a game of tag while the mother sat down with a magazine and laughed at her family. The giggles, the laughs, the happiness. The house looked more alive in those few moments than Gordie ever remembered when he lived there. Now, his mom was happy and so was he, since Clark died. He wondered if he died before Denny, would Denny have had a good life too?
Chris tapped his shoulder as Gordie dreamily walked. "Misery never lasts long." Gordie laughed and said "Ask Paul Sheldon!" The two walked and laughed, reminiscing about the good old days until they instinctively came to a familiar tree. Their old treehouse. That tree house was an escape from all their abuse. All from the men in their lives. Gordie and Clark, Chris and Wilbur, Teddy and his dad, and Vern and Billy.
Two boys came clambering out of the treehouse laughing about some boy named Wyatt, as that boy was coming out after them, calling them assholes. They all laughed at each other, and Chris and Gordie smiled. Chris stopped and looked at Gordie and asked a valid question. "Is this treehouse their escape from their homes like us?"
–
The breeze blew as Chris and Gordie took the truck out for a spin around Castle Rock. Chris pulled the truck in front of his mom's house. Joanne was outside, still looking tired and ragged as she put the laundry up to dry.
Even if two of the kids were living with their uncle Pat, his mom had Herbie, JoJo, and Mel to worry about. Chris realized Mel, his littlest brother must have been 10 now. He wondered if one of those kids at the treehouse was Mel? Would Mel have remembered Chris?
Joanne finished hanging up the laundry to dry and held the basket on her hip, and as she turned to go in the house, she squinted her eyes. She saw the yellow truck, which used to be Wilbur's. The yellow Chevy 3100, and in the driver's side, she saw a familiar face. Any mother would know who their own child was, wouldn't she? He was now 21, and he was just 17 when she last saw her second oldest. His eyes met hers, and his gaze was a combination of sadness and regret.
Joanne dropped the basket and hobbled to the street. Chris peeled ass out of the street and drove off. Forgiveness isn't something he came to do. As Chris drove off, he heard Joanne very faintly cry, "My baby…" and he put his hand on Gordie's knee. A block away, he stopped the truck.
Chris cried so hard, it was a piercing one, one of a child needing his parent. Gordie put his arms around Chris in that yellow truck, and said so earnestly, "I can't say I get it, but I can say I will always be here for you when you need me. I love you Chris." The hulking youth embraced the short one and asked in the saddest of voices, "why did not one person truly love me in that house?" Gordie let go of his embrace and asked back, "I wondered why Clark didn't either, but he is dead and that is a question I will never have answered." Gordie nudged Chris gently and said sweetly, "Let me drive…you relax."
—
Teddy's funeral was dismal, besides Gordie, Vern, Chris, and Vern's family, no one else showed except his mother, who looked like she couldn't be bothered with his death.
Wanda showed up, and she was unrecognizable at half her weight, in a shimmery black dress. Heather Reardon showed but only because her dad was the minister over the funeral.
After the services ended, Chris and Gordie consoled Vern who was by this point uncontrollably crying. "We are here for you, no matter what." Chris said as he patted Vern's shoulder. Gordie agreed as Vern spoke. "It feels like I lost a part of me." Gordie looked at him and sat on the other side of him and said, "Teddy will always be a part of your heart, your memories." Chris agreed, gripping Vern's shoulder. "Yeah, he may not be here with us, but he's here," he said, pointing to his head.
Earlene saw this moment and knew it was a deep bond between friends that no one who wasn't a part of it would truly understand. One was now gone, and it was a hole that was hard to see.
Nearby on a tree her son once sat near so long ago, next to a dead lady named Wilma Huff, stood Joanne, in black, watching her son with the family chosen by him in the bonds of youth, and in the case of one, she recognized, was that of love.
And she cried, not because of Gordie, but because she missed her son so terribly.