Tyler Johnson Was Here(32)

“I’ll be okay,” I say, feeling a different, warmer wetness come from my eyes. “Fuck him!” I’m broken like a promise, and all I really want to do is scream and cry on repeat.

And the world blurs and darkens. There’s no sound other than my heavy sobbing into a set of arms.





Faith drives me to my place, taking the long way there. And I just stare at the moon, like it’s cradling me and knowing me through and through, like I’m finding some sort of hope in its luminescence. “Bounce Back” by Big Sean plays on the radio. Faith has the volume on low, but it’s still loud enough for the bass to bounce off my pulse. And strange enough, the tears dry on my face. If you a real one, then you know how to bounce back, Big Sean sings.

She does her best to keep me calm. “You’re not like rest of them—you’re not like Johntae. You’re so much more,” she says. “You’re a fighter, so keep on fighting. I’m just… so sorry.” It’s her saying these things that keeps me from falling apart. And now I’m imagining myself keeping up the fight, finding my brother—imagining a future where all of this just looks like the world’s worst joke to my twin and me.

This sky is full of the same old writing, and tonight’s story is a warm reminder, something I remember Dad writing to me in one of his letters: You’ll find light in your darkest times, always.





Faith stops the car in front of my house, and we just sit there, staring straight ahead for a moment, listening to music play on the radio and counting each other’s breaths, our bodies totally motionless. The song’s an oldie that my dad used to play.

“Thank you, again,” I say. She’s done so much for me, and I can’t help but feel less alone, less filled with anxiety, less of everything awful. Because of her presence.

“It’s the least I could do.”

“You’re not just saying that, right?”

She puts the car in park. “No.” She smiles.

“Good.” I nod. “Thanks.”

“When you’re in a state of despair, not having someone there to have your back is ugly and awful,” she says, lifting my head up with her index finger. “Seriously. It’s the least I could do.”

I stop picking at a hole in the seat. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, rolling down her window a little. “And when you feel lost and alone, lying on your bed, staring at your phone or scrolling through Tumblr and Twitter and trending hashtags as if it’s meant to bring you peace from all the demons tugging at your head, I know that feeling. We’re in this together now. I guess, in some messed-up way, we always have been, even when I didn’t know you.”

This girl has a heart like a forest, so vast and beautiful, and the twinkle in her eyes captures it. But there’s so much more to her than just flesh and bone and beauty.

I stay quiet, letting her words spill over me like water—washing me clean, her words actually doing something, like supplying hope.

“The human heart is like a sponge. There’s a way to squeeze out all the hurt you don’t want. And somewhere in that hurting heart of yours,” she says, “you’ll find some strength to go on.”

“It doesn’t seem like that.”

And her mouth straightens. “It never does.” She puts her head down on the steering wheel for a moment.

I take a deep breath. “Do you really think he’s out there and safe?”

Her head hits the back of the seat, and she stares at a stray cat walking across the street. “If your brother is anything like you, he’s a fighter, too. I believe he’s out there somewhere. Maybe what happened at the party was the last straw for him, and he wanted to get his shit together, leaving this city behind for good.”

“I needed to hear that.” I sigh. “Thank you.”

She unbuckles her seat belt and leans over slowly, closing her eyes, and kisses me softly on the cheek, which still stings from the punch.

She flickers her long eyelashes until her eyes are wide open—so wide. I watch her settle and relax back in her seat, with a smug and amiable expression. “I like you a lot, Marvin,” she says.

“You do?” I sit up. I’ve never felt so tingly before. It’s so dope to hear those words out loud.

“Yeah. You’re smart, a little nerdy, and so, so caring. And I adore how you’re keeping yourself together. It’s so damn hard, losing someone. Besides, my mama told me that boys come with cracks in them and that I’ll be able to see them for what they really are once I crack them open. But you’re different, and I feel it when I’m around you. These other niggas out here aren’t as genuine.”

I smile, even though my jaw hurts. “Can I tell you something else?”

“Just spill it already,” she mutters through the gap between her front teeth, staring at me.

“I’m not sure if anyone’s ever told you this before, but you deserve the world and so much more. You deserve more than the world has—more than what this universe even holds.”

“You really think so?” Her eyes start to water up, dimples waving hello.

“Yeah. You are hella bomb, hella beautiful, and anyone in this divided world would be lucky to have you.”