Tommy doesn't remember calling Sal, but perhaps the fact that he’d been drinking all night and hadn't answered his phone is what made Sal come over. And so Sal—who knows where the spare key is hidden—found Tommy sitting on his kitchen floor amidst boxes, looking not so good, just a day before he was set to move to another state.
"That’s no way to say goodbye, Kinard. You could’ve at least called me."
"You hate my beer," Tommy muttered.
"That never stopped you or me." Sal sat down next to Tommy, pushing a few bottles aside with his hand. "And that’s not the point."
"There is no point." Tommy tilted his head back and let out a deep sigh.
"Oh, aren't you just a ray of sunshine?" But the teasing tone didn't last, replaced by concern. "You don't have to move, Tommy."
But Tommy has to. It was part of the 'disciplinary deal', what he got because his coworkers, friends, Sal included, are there for him. Tommy was surprised to realize just how many people actually had his back—and now he was going to lose them, sort of.
The last helicopter he stole hadn't earned him a medal or a boyfriend. On the bright side, he was already heartbroken, and he’d been let off without the infractions going on his permanent record. He kept his license, and his former captain was kind enough to secure a new place for him—just not in L.A.
So all Tommy replied was a
"And lose my wings?" with a scoff.
"You aren't going to fly if you can't walk in a straight line, you know that, right?"
Tommy knows it, and he also knows he’s being grumpy. His plan was just to drink until he forgot everything for the night and then start clean tomorrow. Great in theory, but he wasn't twenty anymore and knew he wouldn't be in good shape the next day, so it was a good thing Sal was there.
Tommy looks at him, rubs his eyes, and tries to smile.
"I'm going to need your help."
"I got you." Sal smirks. "I already spoke to Gina; I'm off tomorrow and the day after. I'll go with you."
Tommy can't help but smile more genuinely this time.
"See, I knew I shouldn't get you drunk."
"Uh-huh, all part of your master plan," Sal says wryly.
"I do think of everything."
"Is that why you didn't answer my calls or reply to any messages?" Sal raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah." Tommy points upward. "I left my phone locked in the bedroom. Out of sight, less chance of a final drunken mistake."
There’s a pause before Sal replies, calmly.
"Maybe you should do that."
The fact that he doesn't seem to be joking catches Tommy off guard.
"You're not being a good friend right now," Tommy chides him.
"Come on, Tommy." Sal gets closer and squeezes his shoulder. "It’s been months, and it doesn't seem like anything got resolved."
"It did."
"So why haven't you moved on?" Sal doesn't miss a beat.
"I am moving," Tommy replies, a bit more exasperated, gesturing toward the packed boxes in the kitchen.
"You’re moving out," Sal points out. "And not entirely by choice."
Tommy just blinks and doesn't answer this time. Sal continues.
"You know, Gina and I used to wonder what the deal was." Sal shakes his head. "And even after you came out—which explains things, I guess—Gina thinks you're too good to be single. And then, after the kid…"
"He's not a kid."
"It was a whole picture of it, Tommy." Sal ignores him.
"What?" Tommy feels a flash of anger slip into his voice.
"If it’s something you want, that’s okay. But, and this was kinda something she said, it seems like 'you keep giving up on a place you’d like to be'."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Doesn't it? I don't know, it's none of my business," Sal says, stepping back a little this time. "We just…"
"Mm-hmm." And that’s where they leave it for a few minutes.
Tommy feels like he needs to get something off his chest, off his mind, and maybe the way to do that is by clearing his throat and speaking up. He can still go through with his original plan. Forget about today and start over tomorrow.
"I didn't give up," Tommy says defensively. "I gave him a way out, and he took it."
"Why did he need a way out?"
"If he’d just called me back…" Tommy laughs bitterly. "But he just wanted to make sure things were over."
"You walked out the door, Tommy."
"And I beat myself up for making the wrong choice that time, Sal," Tommy says dryly. "You were there; you saw it. I just needed a sign…"
"I thought you weren't the superstitious type."
"I know it wasn't fair," Tommy says sadly. "I just wanted time… for him to be sure before I took the leap."
"And now?"
And now Tommy couldn't try again, he thought. But Sal wouldn't understand since Tommy hadn't talked about him and Evan sleeping together months after the breakup, and about what came the next morning. The way Tommy had thought there might be a chance, how he let that hope surface only to confirm what he already suspected: he was good for filling time, a fun time for a few nights, but it couldn't last. At the first slip of insecurity he made, it was all lost, so next time either he would hurt Evan, or Evan would leave, going to find what he was really looking for in someone, a kind of security that Tommy wouldn't be able to offer even if he tried. He wasn't part of his family.
"Did you two talk after the funeral?"
"By text." And then Tommy tries to shrug and look for a closed bottle. He's out of luck. "It must be for the best."
Tommy whispers that, but Sal hears him anyway.
"I'm sorry." And Sal had never seemed so sincere.
"Howie was saved," Tommy says. "Diaz is back. They all have each other. It's not easy, but Evan isn't alone."
"And are you sure you don't want to say goodbye to them? To him." Sal offers. "Tomorrow before we go?"
Tommy shakes his head no. He's not going to explain to Sal that the last message he sent Evan was a "sorry. If you need to talk," to which he received a "thank you." At the same time, he feared that Evan would invite him to his house, not to talk, but to avoid being alone and to distract him. It should be a relief, but the worst part was that no invitation ever came. Why would it? Evan wasn't alone. And then Tommy withdrew from the scene. He took care of his own business and repercussions at Harbor Station, and months later politely declined when Chimney called him to the ceremony honoring Bobby. The truth is, the whole situation reminded Tommy that grief can destroy you if you're alone, if you feel like you've lost your anchor, and Tommy once again felt the urgency to stop this process before it got worse.
"My father's an asshole," Tommy said, lost in thought.
"You mentioned that."
"He never went easy on me. I think he knew. He thought I was too soft for a five-year-old." Tommy swallowed hard. "But I think he could have tolerated me."
"What?"
"He wasn't good with me. But he was with her," Tommy said, his voice breaking. "I think she was the only person he truly loved, that I witnessed at least. I have this memory of him smiling, and he was less rude when she was around. It was magical. A guy like him, a product of the army, you'd think he'd never back down, but he adored her. Sometimes I can't reconcile the kind of person he was… But, uh, he traveled, spent a lot of time away, so there's that… While my mom raised me. She and I watched a lot of movies, mostly animated films or rom-coms, and she seemed to really believe in that stuff… 'romance'." Tommy makes air quotes with his fingers. "So, I think she lived some of that. But when I was eleven, she died, and whatever good was in him died along with her."
Tommy doesn't know if Sal says anything back, because he’s closed his eyes and is letting sleep take over. He’s still awake, though so exhausted it feels like he’s hovering somewhere between consciousness and dreaming. Lately, Tommy has been thinking about his mom more often. He even tried calling his father, but the calls went straight to voicemail and were never returned. According to his uncle, his father is doing fine, so there’s nothing more Tommy can do.
The truth is, as he grew up, trying to distance himself from his father left him in a state of conflict—a contradiction as hard to reconcile as the images he carries of the old man himself.
To get away, he ended up enlisting as soon as he could, then following Gerrard and hiding in his shadows, as if his father were constantly present even in his absence. He felt fear and he felt alone. Tommy went so long without feeling like his own person that he forgot he could want things for himself; even scarier, he forgot he might one day actually get what he wanted. Now he thinks that a part of him was buried along with his mother too, and as time went on, he kept feeling like that eleven-year-old kid who desperately wanted to go home, hug his mom, and have someone look at him with love for the person he might become. Until that happened, it felt like he couldn't face anyone else. And that would never happen.
So, it all was like baby steps until he stopped lying to himself and the people in his life; until he requested a transfer and went back to flying, because that is what he loves. Tommy loves being able to give something back, to help save lives. He can't bury it.
Last year, Tommy realized he still wasn't truly free of that weight from his past, and that it wasn't fair to drag anyone down with him— specially when Evan seemed to navigate life so easily, overcoming the very obstacles Tommy still stumbled over now and then. Evan called him "brave." And even though Tommy was brave in his own way, Evan still deserved more.
Tommy feels Sal helping him up, an arm slipping behind his shoulder. Tommy doesn't resist, even though his footing isn't very steady.
"I'm going to call Lucy. It’s not good to leave you alone these first few weeks."
"I'll be fine,"
"Oh, you will be," Sal agrees, taking a step toward the living room with Tommy. "But that’s what friends are for, to be a pain in the ass and help with moving."
"Don't call Evan."
"I heard you the first time."
Tommy stops halfway and grips Sal’s shirt tighter.
"I have to give up the place before I burn it down."
"Tommy, we’re all firefighters," Sal sighs, then says more to himself. "You guys would figure it out."
"I just need to sleep."
Sal settles Tommy onto the sofa and goes to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. Tommy’s eyelids are growing heavy, and he dreads the dreams that await him. Tomorrow, he’ll try to start over again. But it’s a haunted fresh start. He’s unsure which parts of himself remain buried and which he’s still trying to save, keeping them as hidden as if they were underground, far removed from the sky he loves so much.