“We glazed over the subject, we did not talkabout it.”
“I don’t want you to go,” he saysforcefully.
“I can’t stay here forever Ryan, I need to gohome eventually.”
“Alana, they don’t mean anything to me,” hesays tensely. “It’s just a job.”
“So you’ve told me,” I bite.
“Alana-”
“Don’t, Ryan.”
“Alana, I don’t have anything else. I needthis job.”
“And what about me?”
“I need you too. Just give me a little time.”He scrambles, “I’m trying to save some money so I can start my ownbusiness. You know, being a convicted felon my future’s fucked. Nocompany worth shit will ever hire me. And I don’t want to end up onmy ass somewhere with nothing to show for my life.”
Shit. How do you argue with that?
“What kind of business?” I ask uneasily.
He goes over to his dresser, opens a drawer,pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to me. My breath catcheswhen I look at it. “Is…Is this supposed to be us?”
Ryan nods. Now, I can’t pretend to knowanything about graphic design, but the picture I’m staring at istwo people who look like avatars from a video game. They’re sittingon the beach, a handsome boy with light eyes holding a girl withlong blonde hair. They’re watching the sunset on a blue and whitehemp blanket, just like we used to do.
It’s almost surreal.
“You made this?” I look up at him.
“It was my final project. I got my associatedegree in prison. Graphic design.”
I immediately recall an echo of aconversation from our past. Even though Ryan was three years olderthan me, he didn’t have a college degree or really know whichdirection his life was headed. He was so artistically talentedthough, always doodling on napkins or sketching something in thesand. So I suggested he do something with graphic design. And rightnow, I’m unexpectedly holding my advice in my hand.
I can’t believe the detail; the color of thesand is almost perfect. The sunset looks like watercolor over theocean; he even captured the fluidity of the waves.
“It’s amazing.”
“I want to start my own company. There’s ahuge market out there for freelance artists. Book covers, webdesign, all kinds of shit. I think it could be lucrative.”
I run my hands through my hair and sighresigned. This is so fucking difficult.
“I also want something else,” Ryan pulls meinto his arms, but I’m reluctant to go. “I want the wife and kids,the white picket fence, and all that American dream bullshit. And Iwant it with you.”
I wilt in his arms, “Me?”
“Mmm hmm. I’ve always wanted it with you. Iwant to be the father I never had and the husband my mother wascheated out of. So if I have to take off my fucking clothes to makethe money I need, I’ll do it. And I pray you want me enough tosuffer through it. Because I promise I’ll make it up to you for therest of my life.”
“Ryan,” I heave a sigh.
“Please, Alana, just try,” he presses.
I’m wracked with indecision. “Do you have anyidea what my life is going to be like the next three years? I’mgoing to law school, Ryan.It’s a full time commitment,” Itell him, because I want him to understand that he’s not going tohave much of me once school starts.
“What does that have to do withanything?”
“I just want you to realize, having any kindof relationship with me is going to be a challenge.”