117 Epilogue 1.2 - Going Home

"Jesus, I wasn't nervous until now." Amari squeezed Yangyang's hand as tight as he could, unable to let go. "Not even when Zig was driving us up here."

"Very funny, mon chéri. My driving is not so bad, tsé?" His friend chuckled and gave his back a comforting pat as Amari glared in his direction. "Just go up there, knock on the door, and si c'est terrible, we'll be here waiting."

Amari felt a smaller hand grab hold and smiled, knowing Ziggy was right. It was a relationship that had already ended. The worst that could happen was it would stay that way. Actually, the worst that could happen was his grandmother saying the same awful things to his husband and son she had said to him. He wouldn't let her do that.

"You got this, Li ba. It'll be okay."

With a chuckle, he gave Taitai's hand a little shake, then released his grasp, extending his white cane out ahead of him. Yangyang grabbed at his wrist, pulling him back for a quick kiss on the cheek, and he swallowed his nerves as he left family to visit a stranger.

It had been almost ten years, but he remembered the old farmhouse well. The long dirt road that led up to a rickety picket fence, grey and worn. A wide, grassy driveway to the right, and an overgrown stone walkway up to the dingy, white wraparound porch. Feeling the path under his feet, he was careful not to let the unevenness trip him. When his cane hit the bottom step, he took a deep breath.

The tall, wooden door was open before he had a chance to knock and he could hear breathing behind the thin screen. Familiar smells wafted out, making Amari choke on the knot in his throat. He never thought he would come back to this place, so full of bad memories, but the scent of his grandmother's lotion and perfume, of the slightly stale and dusty air, of the food cooking in the kitchen – he realized he didn't actually have many bad memories of her.

There was no sound other than the soft breathing, so he swallowed again and cleared his throat.

"Iyaiya?" he asked, even though he knew it was her. It was just something to clear the tension. "Uh, I can't see you, so you've gotta say something. Whatever it is you wanna say."

He heard the woman release a small sigh, a breath she must have been holding in, then felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Amari? It's been so long... I didn't think I would ever see you again."

Her voice was raspy, much older than he remembered, but it had been almost a decade since they'd spoken. This woman in front of him was at least seventy now, and if his father didn't come back after prison, she had been living alone that whole time.

"Yeah..." He didn't know what to say. He knew what he wanted to tell her, but he didn't know how to start, wishing she would break the awkward quiet by asking.

"So many piercings," she commented lightly, her tone curious and amused instead of judgmental. "And a mohawk." She paused, and he imagined her examining him. "You look good. Like your life is good."

Amari nodded and flashed her a small but genuine smile, then looked off into the distance. "Yeah, it really is." He heard her let out a breath, almost a laugh, and he scratched at his head.

"I can't remember the last time I saw you smile." Her hand was still on his shoulder, a little heavier now. "Do you want to come in and talk? Isn't that why you came?"

"Uh... I don't think I'm ready for that yet." Amari timidly hung his head, taking a step back. Her hand dropped away. The idea of leaving his family out here and going into the house by himself made him anxious, and he felt his body tense. "Can we maybe talk out here first?"

There was a pause and the screen door creaked forward, the woman stepping out then releasing, letting it bang shut behind her. "There are some chairs on the porch, to your left. Do you need help?"

Amari shook his head and turned, tapping his way to a large object a few feet away. Reaching out, his fingers touched an old rocking chair, and he sat. His grandmother passed him, sitting beside him, and her chair squeaked as she slowly rocked back and forth.

"So, what made you decide to visit your iyaiya after so many years?"

She didn't sound angry, or even upset. Amari wasn't sure what to take from her tone and he frowned a little, thinking maybe he was the only one who had been worried. Like him, perhaps she had given up on this relationship years ago and no longer cared. The smallest part of him wanted to just leave and return home, to his real home with his real family, but he wasn't that runaway anymore.

"I was thinking, despite the way I left, that maybe you'd wanna know I'm doing well." He picked at the wrist strap on his cane, staring blankly down to where his hands would be. "I didn't think it was right, to leave that as your final memory of me."

This time the woman let out a breathy but clear laugh and stopped rocking. "You really have changed. I guess leaving was a good decision, then."

"It wasn't at first. It was... horrifically awful, actually. For over a year. And then it was just dark and lonely." He smiled, still staring down into his lap. "But not anymore. Those men out there saved me, and now my life's wonderful. It's perfect."

There was quiet, only the sound of his grandmother's rocking chair and her slightly rough breathing. He continued to pick at the plastic, wanting to just spill everything in one breath, but he didn't know how she would react.

The creaking of the chair halted again. "Why didn't you bring them with you? They're your friends?"

"No." Amari had been nervous, but the word leapt from his mouth in an instant. "They're my family. That's what I came to tell you. That I've got a family now. A big, beautiful family."

He took a small breath and nodded his head out toward the car where the three were waiting. "The skinny, blond one's Ziggy, my surrogate father, uncle, older brother... and best friend. I've got a sweet aunt and uncle who took me in off the street for a year, but he took me in as an equal. He and his sister're my closest family."

"The man next to him's Yangyang, my husband." He paused, hearing the woman gasp, and he almost grinned in satisfaction at the sound. "And the boy is his son. Our son." She said nothing in return, but he didn't care. "That man, my husband, saved my life. I love him and my son more than anything in the world. That's what I came to tell you. To show you. I didn't bring them up here, because I'll do anything to keep them from being hurt."

There was more silence from her and Amari left it. He listened to the breeze blowing through the nearby branches, the occasional bird chirping, and the distant sounds of his family chatting by the car. It was November and the air was brisk, but the sun was bright and warm on his face. He tilted his head back to take it all in. It had been so long since he had heard these sounds and smelled this air, without the murmer of traffic and people in the background, or the hint of exhaust and trash and hot concrete in his nose.

After a few more minutes of quiet, his grandmother let out a sad and defeated sigh. "Amari. You know I only worry about you, right? I've only ever worried about you."

"I know, iyaiya. You're scared for my soul." He lowered his head and turned toward his grandmother. "I don't know what'll happen after I die, but you really should've been more worried about what was happening to me while I lived."

He scratched at his head, feeling the honest and straightforward Amari breaking through, but he was no longer an angry, frightened teenager. He wasn't a child who deep down just wanted someone to love and accept him as he was. He had found that, and he didn't need to feel that fear anymore.

"For twenty years, I was mad and scared and lonely, but mostly I just felt unwanted. Like I had no worth. I've done terrible things, and I've had even more terrible things done to me, and none of it mattered. I know the feeling of being in hell."

Amari scratched at his head again, letting out a small giggle, smiling brightly even at those old wounds. "But I'm so happy now, and I've got so much love, I feel like I could burst. People say I'm a different person, but that old person wasn't me. This was always me, just covered by so many scars I couldn't find my way out. I understand why you're worried, but I love myself now, and I've got people who truly love me. This's who I am, this's who I'm s'posed to be, and I'm not gonna punish myself for that."

His grandmother let out another sigh, a bit less sad this time. "I still love you, my sweet ọmọ-ọmọ. And I am happy to see you filled with so much light. But I am old and I am uncertain. This is a difficult thing for me to accept."

"I know," Amari said, reaching out to touch his grandmother's arm, then moving his hand down to grab her's. "I didn't come for your acceptance. I don't need it. I just came to tell you I was okay. You can keep praying for my soul, if you want, but you don't need to worry about my life."

He stood, still smiling, and gave her a small bow. "We'll come back later, if that's okay. I'm not ready to go in the house yet, but if you can handle it, I'd like you to meet my family."

Without waiting for a response, Amari turned and tapped his way back down the porch steps and along the stone path. As he approached the picket fence, he heard the jingle of bells coming toward him.

"Li ba!" Taitai shouted, his lanky body slamming into him, arms wrapping around his waist. "You're smiling."

His tone was sweet and slightly worried, and Amari giggled. "Of course I'm smiling." He pulled Taitai into his chest, holding him tight around the shoulders, then let go to pet his long hair. "Let's take a walk, okay? I'll show you around."