Peace Love Resistance

  This night would go down in my history as one of the best nights of my life, and I wasn’t about to let it be anything less over a fight with my mom that I wouldn’t win anyway. Instead of being pissed at my mom, I was happy on a blanket in front of a warm fire, my girl in my arms, and my baby on my chest with a sky full of magic. I had absolutely nothing to be upset about. We talked, laughed, made traveling plans, and made out until Baby-T wanted fed just after eleven.

  After we’d all retired to the van for the night, and Baby-T was asleep in his bed, Tristan and I did it again. No, not did it. I can’t even call what we did, it. It was more than that. So much more than that. This time was blended; normal human sex with the tantra stuff we’d learned in the teepee. With a star ruby locked between one hand for connection and passion, and rose quart stone locked between the other one for love and something I couldn’t remember, Tristan wrapped her naked body around mine.

  “Are you sure this is okay, T?” I questioned once it was too late to back out.

  “Probably not, but now it’s too late. We’ll never be able to go back now.”

  I agreed with a happy smile and a kiss to her collarbone. I’m not sure if it was the way our eyes stayed entranced, the crystals between our locked hands, or the unreal lines we seemed to cross, but something mystic passed between us, swirling back and forth until the end.

  “I’m never going to get tired of this. Ever,” I said, once again, kissing her lips.

  “God. Me either. We gotta get condoms though.”

  “I’ve got condoms.”

  Tristan gave me mean glance, her eyes hooded angrily. “Of course you do. Where the hell are they, Einstein?”

  “I’ll grab them when I face my mother in the morning. I didn’t know this was going to happen.”

  “That’s how Baby-T got here.”

  “I already know that story,” I possessively replied. “Tell me about your shoes.”

  “My shoes?”

  “Yeah, from third grade.”

  Tristan scooped up Baby-T up from his bed, kissing his little head while I got our comfy bed turned down. “It was nothing. Just a pair of brown, suede ankle boots I bought at Macy’s when I was home from school that Christmas. My mom hated them, too.”

  I crawled in, holding the covers up for Tristan, coaxing to hear more. “Why?”

  Tristan placed the baby between us, and I kissed his soft head. “They were ugly.”

  “But you didn’t think so.”

  Kissing my lips, Tristan dropped to her back with a sigh. “How about we talk about your mom. I gotta get out of here, T. I know you’re not guilty of anything, and it’s not your fault she doesn’t like me, but I’m not trying to be in the middle of shit, you know?”

  “What was so special about your boots?” I questioned, my hand going to her stomach as I rolled to my side.

  Tristan sighed again and rolled to her side, too. One hand went under her cheek and the other held mine, just below Baby-T’s butt. “Nothing, T. They were just a pair of stupid boots. I’d just gotten into, The Little House on The Prairie books and then I found out there was a show. Have you ever watched it?”

  “Not really. Wasn’t that a black and white show?”

  “Yes, I watched every one of them. Nine seasons during one holiday break.”

  “Where were you’re parents?”

  “My dad was only there in spirit. Mom was busy with all kinds of stuff, mostly their annual Christmas party.”

  “You didn’t go?”

  “Of course I did. I went with my frilly, red and white dress and brown ankle boots. She laughed at them with her friends and shoved me away to play the piano. Of course it was a trick; she really wanted to get me alone long enough to demand I march right back upstairs and put on the black shiny shoes that went with my dress.”

  “You can play the piano?”

  “Not really. I had to take lessons, but I was never really that good had it.”

  “Did you change your shoes?”

  “Yes, and I only wore them to school one time. Miss Lana made fun of them, too. Right in front of the entire class. Lovely role model, she was.”

  That surprised me. “Wait. You’re telling me that Tristan Swan let someone else influence her decision to wear a pair of shoes?”

  “Yes, but I wasn’t even nine yet. I didn’t find my dad’s tape until I was ten. My dad was my influence after that. Nobody else. He was the only one who had my best interest at heart.”

  I brushed my thumb back and forth over the back of her hand, laying there looking into her eyes through the dim lit van. “You have no idea how special you are.”

  Even with just the solar, nightlight, I could see her eyes blink slowly with a deep breath. “But I’m really not, T. I’m just me. If everyone would just do that, we’d all be better off. I wish I could write a magic book with everything my dad taught me in it. If people would follow it, I know the world would be better off. I just know it. It’s because they don’t know, Ty. It’s because they follow all the other sheep and they’re only given a little bit of what the truth really is. Why aren’t we teaching our kids to be individual? I don’t get it. I don’t get it at all, T. I can’t understand why parents want to teach them how to follow a system and get things. I mean, what are you really going to do with things? Wouldn’t you rather buy a school bus and raise a family all over the place? Wouldn’t you rather spend your days exploring instead of working all the time. My mom and Clay never stop working. Ever.”

  “My parents don’t work crazy hours. They both sort of set their own schedules.”

  “Well, they’re one of the lucky ones, but they’re still stuck in a system. I’m going to pull as many people as I can out of that mess. That’s why I’m here.”

  I smiled at her sad tone, wishing she was right, wishing the world could be like Tristan saw it being. “That’s not realistic, T. You know that without me telling you.”

  Tristan sighed again, her tone sad and defeated. “Fuck realistic, Tobias. That’s why it is like it is. Most people are asleep, some are awake, but think they don’t have a choice, and very few live it. Not many people are willing to be different, and that’s what it boils down to. It’s normal to comment on a Facebook post and go at it with a total stranger for days, sometimes hurting people. Do people care? No, because that’s the reality you live in. People don’t want their kids to be different, and they care more about their popularity, sports, and grades than their happiness. It’s just so frustrating. Billions of dollars are spent, dumbing down America with propaganda instead of all the things that should be done with it. Kids go to bed hungry, veterans live on the streets, and seniors decide between medicine and food, but it’s okay. Go shopping, play a video game, go watch some football. It’s not right and I don’t for the life of me, see how anyone could think is.”

  “Do it. Publish the tape. Put it into a book and publish it. You’ll reach more people like that than you will doing what you’re doing.”

  “Yeah, that would really piss off my mom.”

  I didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to figure out how to put it without sounding offensive. It didn’t work. “You’re a hypocrite.”

  Her hand tensed below mine, and I could tell her body did as well. “I am not. I just have very political people in my life that I don’t want to piss off any more than I already have. There’s a big difference.”

  I rolled to my back with a yawn. “Whatever.”

  “It’s true. You know who my mom is.”

  “I do, but I still think it’s a copout. How can you stand up to humanity if you can’t even stand up to your own mom?”

  “I’ve stood up to her a million times. Believe me, I have.”

  “Behind closed doors,” I accused in a nonchalant tone.

  “That’s not fair and you’re being mean.”

  “I am not. I’m just saying you’re mantra is, be the change, resist the heard, and stand up for humanity. But here you have access to any re
porter you want to use to wake people up, and you don’t do it.”

  “I have Tobias now, T. I’m not about to take any chances on them finding out about him. You can call me what you want and I’m still going to put him first. I’ll always protect you, baby. I promise,” she whispered, her lips touching Tobias’s sleeping head.

  “So you’ve thought about it?”

  “Of course. I know exactly what reporter I’d call, but I’m not going to do that and that doesn’t make me a hypocrite. It would cause a bunch of shit that I don’t want to deal with. I’m okay the way I am. If I can get a few people to take off the mask and wake up, I’m fine. Have you told your mom your plans to run away with me yet, to take off and fly until we decide to land? No, you haven’t because you don’t want to deal with any of the shit either. Does that make you a hypocrite?”

  Up until that point, I knew with everything in me that I was right and she was wrong. “Okay, okay, I get it, but what about after the election? After everything settles down again.”

  “It doesn’t work like that and it wouldn’t come out the way you’re thinking it would. I’d be made out to be crazy and put away somewhere where I couldn’t wake anyone up. So, yeah. That’s that. What do you want to do, Ty?”

  I propped my head up on my hand after she did, our legs twirling together like a pretzel. “What do you mean? I want to do whatever you do. I want to marry you.”

  “Just so we’re on the same page, I don’t need a piece of paper to say we’re married. None of that defines who we are. I know you’re mine, but I meant something a little less superficial than that. If nothing could stop you. What would you do if there was nothing to hold you back?”

  I shrugged one shoulder, running the tips of my fingers up and down her arm. “I want to marry you on paper. How will we all have the same name?”

  “I never introduce myself as Tristan Swan. Just Tristan. People don’t give a shit, Ty and besides. We’re already married. We’ve been married for lifetimes. Forget that. What would you do?”

  “I don’t know. It’s different now.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, before you came here, I wanted to be famous. Not like Robert Pattinson famous, just You Tube famous. I was well on my way,” I assured her, my ego boasting for a second.

  Until she flattened it of course. “That’s a legacy to leave behind. Why don’t you film something worth filming if you like doing that stuff? You’re really good at putting it all together.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. There’s lots of thing you could do to spread humanity. That’s a channel to be proud of.”

  “You’re so confusing. Just yesterday you told me being proud wasn’t something to be proud of, now you tell me I can be proud?”

  Tristan punched me in the arm with a quiet laugh. “Okay, how about fulfilled? Do something that fulfills you.”

  “I’m doing whatever you do.”

  “Are you going to tell your mom?”

  “No, not until I have to. She’ll be a bitch.”

  “She just wants the best for you.”

  “No, she wants what’s best for her. This is all an act for my dad or something. She’s never cared where I was or what I was doing.”

  “Well, she cares now and she hates me.”

  “Only because she doesn’t know you.”

  Tristan leaned over Baby-T and kissed me. “Maybe. Night, T. I love you.”

  “Night, T. I love you more.”

  The encounter with my mom wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. Of course I wasn’t there long. Tristan dropped me off with our dirty laundry when she went into town to get a few things for our next trip.

  “You’re joking. You’re doing her laundry?”

  “Mom, yes. Stop, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. I’m happy. I like her a lot, and I’m having fun. It’s summer. Without judging her, tell me one thing I’m hurting?”

  “Without judging her? Seriously, Tobias. That doesn’t even make sense. When is she leaving?”

  “We’re leaving this afternoon for Maine.”

  “You’re not.”

  I rolled my eyes, continuing to scrub the stain in Baby-T’s sleeper, another blowout. “Mom, we’re just going to the beach there. I’ve never been to the beaches on the east coast. You can’t tell me you don’t like being alone with dad. What would I do here anyway? Do you think that’ll come out?”

  My mom ignored my poop stain problem, continuing to tell me what I was doing. “We’re having a barbeque here for the fourth. I want you here.”

  “Tough. I don’t want to be here. You’re going to have a drunk party and I’d just be in the barn. No, I’ve got plans already. Why can’t you just be happy for me? Give her a chance, will you?”

  “No, not for one second. Where the hell did she come from anyway? What the hell is she doing out running around with a newborn?”

  I continued with our laundry, quickly tossing in the pink panties I’d taken off Tristan that very morning. That reminded me of the condoms, and I dashed around my mom. “She takes care of him. He’s better off than most kids.”

  “What’s wrong with you, Ty? What on God’s green earth do you want a girl with a baby for? I mean, please tell me you’re just playing with her and this will be over soon?”

  I actually laughed out loud at that one, refraining from telling her that I loved her, and I planned on spending the rest of my life with her. It would have made it worse, and I knew I’d only be adding fuel to the fire if I didn’t let it slide. “Yes, mom. That’s what I’m doing.”

  “You’re an idiot. Girls are extremely fertile for the first couple months after having a baby. You do know that, right?”

  I took the steps two at a time, stopping to look back at the top. “I told you, we’re not having sex.”

  “Yeah, that was obvious last night. I couldn’t hear a thing coming out of that shower and those weren’t nail marks going down your chest.”

  My face turned a lot red, not expecting the reminder. I ignored it with my eyes in the opposite direction. Nope. Wasn’t touching that one. “She’s fun. I like her and she knows a lot of cool boon-docking spots. Am I really hurting anything, Mom?”

  My mom crossed her arms and sighed a defeated breath. “Promise me once summer is over you’ll focus on school. You’ve only got one more year to buckle down. You’re not ending up like us, Ty. You’re not.”

  There was no yelling whatsoever, and not once did I get mad. I think I was too happy to be mad; too psyched about spending time with her on a beach. “I know, Mom. Chill out. I’m just having fun.”

  After I packed a few things in duffle bag, I shoved the box of condoms in a side pocket wearing a huge smile. How lucky was I? I was headed to the beach with the most amazing girl in the world, the best baby, and a rad van with plenty of room for three. Walking on a cloud felt awesome. I was skating on a shift and it felt amazing.

  I had every right in the world to be pissed at my mom, but I wasn’t. Never entertained it a bit. She was stirring powdered creamer into a coffee cup when I dropped my duffle bag to the floor. “You know there’s no food whatsoever in that, right? Got any leftovers?” I questioned, my eyes searching for something to eat in the overcrowded fridge. Beer took up most of the top shelf and half the second one.

  “What the hell are you talking about? Your dad barbequed chicken yesterday. Eat that.”

  “The creamer you’re using. There’s no food in it. You’re drinking a manmade chemical, and no, I don’t really want meat. Got any fruit?”

  I had to turn to look at my mom when she didn’t answer. Her face was blank, her hand stopped stirring the spoon, and her jaw dropped a little. “You’re on drugs. I knew it.”

  Standing from my stooped position, I frowned. “I’m on drugs because I want an apple?”

  “Yes. You hate fruit.”

  “I never really had it until the last few weeks with Tristan. I like fruit.”

  “Don’t pin
your lack of fruit on me. You hate it. You’ve never liked fruit or vegetables.”

  “Well, I do now. See, I told you she was good.”

  “You need help. Maybe you should talk to someone. Maybe this move wasn’t the best decision.”

  Still wearing a smile, feeling light and humble, I stepped around her and reached for a banana. “Eight I hate, nine is fine. You might as well feed yourself a teaspoon of pesticides. Don’t ever buy fruit with the first number being an eight. Gross. See this sticker right here? Make sure the number is anything but eight. Nine is the best, but anything’s better than eight.”

  My mom jerked the banana from my hand, her eyebrows scrunched into a frown. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “What? Tristan taught it to me. Don’t you care about your food being genetically modified? I’m going to see if the washer is done.”

  Leaving her shocked, wondering about my sanity, I walked off without the poisonous banana wearing a smile I couldn’t seem to get rid of.

  And my mom followed, banana in hand. “This girl’s a freak. You’re being brain washed or something. I don’t like it, Ty. I don’t like it one bit. Next thing you know you’ll be doing yoga or some shit.”

  “Nah, we’re just gonna put on a couple robes and go to the airport and hand out pamphlets.”

  “That’s it. You’re not going. I knew she was involved in some sort of cult or something. I knew it.”

  That made me laugh. “Relax. I’m kidding, but I did do yoga and tantra. It’s a type of yoga. I did that on Saturday. It’s amazing,” I explained, purposely leaving out the part that it was the most erotic, sensual, situation I’d ever been in. “You have nothing to worry about with Tristan, Mom. She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met and she’s taught me things everyone should know; things everyone turns their back on to keep from feeling or thinking about it. Pretend like it’s not there and it goes away. That’s what everyone likes to think, but guess what. It’s still there. Kids in this world go to bed hungry every night, and it’s okay. Just turn on The Walking Dead or go to Facebook. That’ll distract you.”