Infinity + One
Page 92
“Bonnie and Clyde died a long time ago,” Finn said, and pulled the door of his father’s rental car open, managing to create just enough space to wedge himself through the opening. His dad did the same, started the car, and they inched their way out of the parking lot, until they were finally clear of the media circus.
“IS THAT ALL you have?” his dad asked after they’d been driving aimlessly for a while. His dad was sure they were being followed, and he was probably right. So they just drove.
“What?”
“Your clothes. You’re wearing a tux. Is that all you have?” Jason Clyde pointed to his suit.
Finn pulled at the hanging curl of his bowtie, still wrapped around his neck and held in place by the collar. It came free easily, and he wadded it up and stuck it in his pocket with his wallet. He had his wallet. That was something, he supposed.
“Yeah. This is it.” Everything else he owned was either in the Blazer or scattered across several states. Everything except the stuff in room 704 at the Bordeaux Hotel—his leather jacket along with the boots Shayna had given him, his jeans and the T-shirt Bonnie had purchased for him in Oklahoma. His shaving kit and toothbrush were there too. And Bonnie’s things—her red boots and her puffy pink coat. He was sure all of it had been gathered up by housekeeping. Maybe the maid had kept it, and maybe it was all being auctioned on eBay at that very moment.
“So you married that girl?” His dad kept looking at the ring on Finn’s finger. He should take it off. It was over. An imaginary love affair. But he didn’t want to. Not yet.
“Yeah. I did.”
“Where is she?”
“Gone—I don’t know, Dad.”
His dad looked at him, his brow creased, one hand on the wheel, one hand rubbing his chin, the way he did when he was trying to unravel something incredibly elusive. It was a look Finn knew well, a look he understood, a look he hadn’t seen in years. He and his father had talked since his release, but that was all. He was still tall and thin, and he had always rounded his shoulders, stooping slightly, as if the weight of his brain had bowed his back. He had bright blue eyes and thinning brown hair. Finn had the same bright blue eyes—Fish had had them too—but they’d inherited their Norse blondness from their mother’s side of the family—and probably their brawn as well, considering his mom’s father and her brother both looked like Vikings.
“Why are you here, Dad?” Finn asked.
His father’s hand fell from his chin and joined the other hand on the wheel.
“Bonnie called me. She thought you might need me. I thought you might need me.”
Finn nodded once, ignoring the way his heart leaped at the sound of her name. She had cared enough to call his father. “I’ve needed you before now.”
“Yes. I know. But I didn’t have any answers. Not then. This time . . . I thought I might.”
“Oh yeah?” Finn laughed, but it sounded more like a sob, and he turned and stared blindly out the window at the palm trees and green bushes and businesses that hugged the streets they wandered.
“I have the Blazer back in St. Louis. I thought about driving it here, thinking you might want it right away. But it would have taken me too long to get here—and I wanted to be here when you were released. I flew in this morning and came straight here. I’ve just been waiting for you to be processed.”
“So you came to take me back to St. Louis?” Finn reached for the button to roll the window down. He couldn’t breathe.
“Yes. If that’s what you want.”
Finn’s eyebrows shot up. “If that’s what I want?” He laughed again, the same rattling sob that he didn’t recognize. It hurt coming out of his chest, and he placed a hand on his heart to make it stop. “When have I ever gotten what I wanted, Dad? I can’t think of a single, damn time.”
He had wanted Bonnie. He had wanted her more than anything else. And he’d gotten her for a few precious days. For one perfect night. But she wasn’t his anymore. She really never had been, if he was being honest with himself. But he’d wanted her. He’d wanted her so badly.
“Why?” His dad looked from the road to Finn’s face and back again.
“Why? Why what, Dad?” He threw up his hands and brought them down heavily on the dashboard. His wedding ring caught the light and he swore.
“Why don’t you ever get anything you want?” Jason Clyde’s brow was wrinkled in confusion, and Finn was reminded just how irritating his dad could be. So simple, yet so intelligent. So focused, yet so unaware. So smart and yet so damn dumb.
“Because I keep chasing after things . . . after people . . . I keep chasing the wrong things,” Finn finished ineptly, throwing his hands up in frustration.
“So you want the wrong things?”
“This isn’t a goddamn paradox, Dad! This isn’t math. This is my life. I’m talking about people I love. And there is no magic formula or unknown number that can make the equation work. ”
“You’re right, Finn. But to people like you and me, everything is a paradox. We overthink everything. It’s what we’re good at. But sometimes the answer is very simple. Both in math, and in life.”
“Really? And what is the answer, Dad? I am in love with a woman who is as gone to me as Fish is. That doesn’t seem simple at all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Her grandmother paid me a visit. Told me Bonnie didn’t want to see me, that the whole thing was a huge mistake. Marriage over. Call it temporary insanity. She said Bonnie’s sick. She said the last two weeks were evidence of a nervous breakdown. She even offered me money to go away and stay away.”
“IS THAT ALL you have?” his dad asked after they’d been driving aimlessly for a while. His dad was sure they were being followed, and he was probably right. So they just drove.
“What?”
“Your clothes. You’re wearing a tux. Is that all you have?” Jason Clyde pointed to his suit.
Finn pulled at the hanging curl of his bowtie, still wrapped around his neck and held in place by the collar. It came free easily, and he wadded it up and stuck it in his pocket with his wallet. He had his wallet. That was something, he supposed.
“Yeah. This is it.” Everything else he owned was either in the Blazer or scattered across several states. Everything except the stuff in room 704 at the Bordeaux Hotel—his leather jacket along with the boots Shayna had given him, his jeans and the T-shirt Bonnie had purchased for him in Oklahoma. His shaving kit and toothbrush were there too. And Bonnie’s things—her red boots and her puffy pink coat. He was sure all of it had been gathered up by housekeeping. Maybe the maid had kept it, and maybe it was all being auctioned on eBay at that very moment.
“So you married that girl?” His dad kept looking at the ring on Finn’s finger. He should take it off. It was over. An imaginary love affair. But he didn’t want to. Not yet.
“Yeah. I did.”
“Where is she?”
“Gone—I don’t know, Dad.”
His dad looked at him, his brow creased, one hand on the wheel, one hand rubbing his chin, the way he did when he was trying to unravel something incredibly elusive. It was a look Finn knew well, a look he understood, a look he hadn’t seen in years. He and his father had talked since his release, but that was all. He was still tall and thin, and he had always rounded his shoulders, stooping slightly, as if the weight of his brain had bowed his back. He had bright blue eyes and thinning brown hair. Finn had the same bright blue eyes—Fish had had them too—but they’d inherited their Norse blondness from their mother’s side of the family—and probably their brawn as well, considering his mom’s father and her brother both looked like Vikings.
“Why are you here, Dad?” Finn asked.
His father’s hand fell from his chin and joined the other hand on the wheel.
“Bonnie called me. She thought you might need me. I thought you might need me.”
Finn nodded once, ignoring the way his heart leaped at the sound of her name. She had cared enough to call his father. “I’ve needed you before now.”
“Yes. I know. But I didn’t have any answers. Not then. This time . . . I thought I might.”
“Oh yeah?” Finn laughed, but it sounded more like a sob, and he turned and stared blindly out the window at the palm trees and green bushes and businesses that hugged the streets they wandered.
“I have the Blazer back in St. Louis. I thought about driving it here, thinking you might want it right away. But it would have taken me too long to get here—and I wanted to be here when you were released. I flew in this morning and came straight here. I’ve just been waiting for you to be processed.”
“So you came to take me back to St. Louis?” Finn reached for the button to roll the window down. He couldn’t breathe.
“Yes. If that’s what you want.”
Finn’s eyebrows shot up. “If that’s what I want?” He laughed again, the same rattling sob that he didn’t recognize. It hurt coming out of his chest, and he placed a hand on his heart to make it stop. “When have I ever gotten what I wanted, Dad? I can’t think of a single, damn time.”
He had wanted Bonnie. He had wanted her more than anything else. And he’d gotten her for a few precious days. For one perfect night. But she wasn’t his anymore. She really never had been, if he was being honest with himself. But he’d wanted her. He’d wanted her so badly.
“Why?” His dad looked from the road to Finn’s face and back again.
“Why? Why what, Dad?” He threw up his hands and brought them down heavily on the dashboard. His wedding ring caught the light and he swore.
“Why don’t you ever get anything you want?” Jason Clyde’s brow was wrinkled in confusion, and Finn was reminded just how irritating his dad could be. So simple, yet so intelligent. So focused, yet so unaware. So smart and yet so damn dumb.
“Because I keep chasing after things . . . after people . . . I keep chasing the wrong things,” Finn finished ineptly, throwing his hands up in frustration.
“So you want the wrong things?”
“This isn’t a goddamn paradox, Dad! This isn’t math. This is my life. I’m talking about people I love. And there is no magic formula or unknown number that can make the equation work. ”
“You’re right, Finn. But to people like you and me, everything is a paradox. We overthink everything. It’s what we’re good at. But sometimes the answer is very simple. Both in math, and in life.”
“Really? And what is the answer, Dad? I am in love with a woman who is as gone to me as Fish is. That doesn’t seem simple at all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Her grandmother paid me a visit. Told me Bonnie didn’t want to see me, that the whole thing was a huge mistake. Marriage over. Call it temporary insanity. She said Bonnie’s sick. She said the last two weeks were evidence of a nervous breakdown. She even offered me money to go away and stay away.”
