Page 125 of The Fed Sex Man

39

Jo

After alternating backand forth between homes for months, Tyson got sick. So sick that he had to take a week off work. His home was later found to have radon gas leaking into it, which was determined to be the cause of his sickness.

He still couldn’t bring himself to sell the home. I feared his attachment to his father’s memories would cause us to live in limbo for a lifetime.

My father speared a new potato half and pointed it at Tyson. “I drove by that SOB yesterday. They had it so wrapped up in plastic that you couldn’t see what the hell they were doin’. A big white air-up bubble surrounded it, like one of them bouncy houses they have at the fair. Damned thing was as big as a hay barn. Bet them fellas workin’ in there are wearing the same suits Neil Armstrong wore when he went to the moon.”

I reserved hope that as soon as they declared the home worthy of being occupied that Tyson would clear out his things, bid farewell, and sell it.

“That’s what scares me,” I said. “I bet they are wearing those suits. Radon is radioactive gas. That house could have been built over an old nuclear waste site or something. It makes me sick to think about it.”

Tyson raised his fork in protest. “They said radon is emitted from the natural breakdown of uranium in soil, rocks, and ground water. I’m sure it’s just coincidental. They’ll get it fixed.”

“The thought of you sleeping there makes me cringe,” I said.

“Me?” His eyes narrowed. “After they get it resolved, we’ll both be staying there until we figure out what we’re doing on a permanent basis.”

My heart sank into my bowels. I doubted I couldn’t bring myself to ever sleep there again. Making that declaration would crush Tyson, but at some point, I’d have to tell him.

“Bad idea,” Jarod argued. “I Googled it. Radon’s a killer. I wouldn’t stay there no matter what they say. I’d sell it as soon as they wave the green flag.”

My mother cleared her throat. “I’m thankful you’re doing well, Tyson. I’m sure you’ll make the right decision when the time presents itself.”

“There’s only one decision that’s right,” I argued, nearly bringing myself to tears.

We had made huge strides toward taking the next step in our relationship. At the time Tyson got sick, I was strongly considering selling my home and moving in with him. My house was now our only refuge from the cancer-causing gas that had hospitalized the man I loved.

Tyson nonchalantly poked at his roast, and then lifted a chunk to his mouth. “We’ll just have to take a look at it when they’re done.” He glanced around the table. “We’ll make a decision at that time.”

There was no value in arguing about it. I didn’t want to fight with Tyson, nor did I want to belittle his attachment to his father’s home. Recovering from the loss of both parents wasn’t something I could imagine. Clinging to the home, and to his father’s memories, had been the only resemblance of a family he’d had since his junior year in high school.

Frustrated that I couldn’t fix matters, I poked at my food while everyone else ate. For some reason, the Andy Griffith episode Jenny had spoken of many weeks prior came to mind.

Opie had killed the mother of three small birds with his slingshot. Despite the loss of their only caregiver, they survived. Their survival required the love and affection of an outsider, the little boy.

I looked up from my meal. My family was before me, eating their meals, talking, and telling stories as if nothing mattered. Knowing that Tyson was loved by everyone at the table brought a smile to my face.

Through his newfound family, he could survive the loss of his father’s home, no differently than the little birds survived the loss of theirs.

The recovery from that loss would simply take time.

Time that I was more than willing to give.