Table of Contents 22 страница

His expression seemed tense.

“Everything okay?” I asked, a little nervously.

“I remember … we came here for Mikey’s eighteenth birthday.”

Oh crap.

“I didn’t know, Jordan. I’m so sorry! We can go back. We don’t have to…”

He turned and smiled, although his eyes were sad.

“No, sweetheart. I’m done hidin’ from the past. Time to start makin’ some new memories.”

I reached out to take his hand. I was so proud of him. He’d grown so strong, changed so much since the damaged man I’d met all those months ago.

“I love you,” I said. “What we have, you and me, it’s what I thought love should be, but I’d stopped believing it existed.”

He smiled warmly. “Love you, too, Torrey Delaney.”

The restaurant that Bev and Pete had chosen was right on the harbor, with views of yachts moored in the bay. Jordan tugged nervously at the neck of his t-shirt while I parked the Princess in a cloud of exhaust fumes.

“Stop that!” I said, making a grab for his hand. “You look gorgeous!”

His eyes shifted nervously toward the upscale restaurant.

“I don’t know, Torrey…”

I cut off his protest with a kiss.

“You’re a free man, Jordan. You can go wherever you want. Do you trust me?”

He nodded and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I do.”

We walked slowly toward the restaurant and before we even got there, I spotted two women in their thirties checking him out. They even stopped and pretended to be interested in an ugly dress displayed in a shop window, just so they could get a look at him from the rear as we passed by. Tramps. Having a hot boyfriend definitely had some disadvantages. The benefits, however… Yeah, I’d be looking forward to those later.

He put his arm around me protectively when a group of students walked past, smelling like they’d been swimming in a brewery. One of them made the mistake of whistling at me.

Jordan all but growled at the guy, and I swear each one of them became a little paler at the sight of him. The ice cold expression that he’d perfected in prison was masking his face. I knew what lay behind it, but they took him at face value.

One of the kids held up his hands.

“Just enjoyin’ the scenery, man. No harm, no foul.”

Ooh, he really shouldn’t have tried talking his way out of it.

“Back off, jerk off!” snarled Jordan, “Or you’ll be wearin’ your teeth as a decoration.”

I had to make a grab for his arm before he tried to follow them.

“Reel it in a bit, honey,” I said, as calmly as possible.

To my surprise, when he turned to face me he was grinning widely.

“What are you playing at?” I asked, exasperation heating my voice.

He shook his head, still smiling.

“What?” I insisted.

He winked at me. “Felt good!”

I slapped his arm.

“You scared the shit out of me! I thought you were about to go postal and take that guy’s head off.”

He chuckled lightly. “Not sayin’ I wouldn’t,” and he wrapped his arm more tightly around me as we entered the restaurant.

The hostess perked up considerably, beaming at Jordan. He looked puzzled, glancing at me for an explanation. I rolled my eyes—the first of many times that evening, I suspected.

“May I show you to a table for two, sir? Somewhere a lil’ private, perhaps?” and she giggled.

So unprofessional! I didn’t go giggling all over customers when I was making them their damn coffee! Then an annoying little memory reminded me I’d made a play for Jordan the very first day he’d walked into the Busy Bee diner. But he’d been by himself, so fair game. I seemed to have become suddenly invisible to the hostess.

“No, that’s all right,” I said, a little briskly. “We’re meeting friends. In fact, I see them now.”

I steered Jordan into safer waters, but when I glanced over my shoulder, that slut of a hostess was still checking him out. Yeah, she’d just cost her colleagues a tip.

“Wow, look at you!” said Bev, staring at him with obvious appreciation.

Jordan looked a little pink when she jumped up and hugged him tightly. He was definitely more comfortable with Pete’s handshake. Guess he was what they called a ‘man’s man’. Mmm-hmm, I liked the way that sounded. A lot.

They’d already started on the wine but Jordan shook his head when Pete offered it to him.

“No thanks, man.”

Pete looked surprised but Bev grinned.

“You haven’t told him, have you?”

Jordan turned to look at me, a question in his eyes.

“Nope. It’s your gift,” I said to Bev, “yours and Pete’s. Why don’t you tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Jordan asked, impatiently. “What’s on that tricky lil’ Boston brain?”

“Well,” Bev answered for me excitedly, “Torrey said how you’d been wishin’ and a-hopin’ to go upscale, and we know that y’all will be moving on soon, so this is kind of a farewell present. We’re all staying in a hotel in town tonight—our treat. So, we’ll all be drinking and dancing and lovin’ till dawn!”

She squealed and clapped her hands together, then high-fived me.

Jordan looked stunned.

“What do you think, baby?” I asked, gently.

“Wow. Just wow, you guys,” he said.

He stared at his hands, obviously overwhelmed.

Pete tapped him lightly on the arm and poured an extra glass of wine for him.

“Here’s to getting laid tonight, buddy!”

Bev scowled but Pete’s comment made Jordan smile. “I’ll drink to that,” he said. “Thanks, guys.” Then he turned to me. “Thank you for makin’ tonight so special, sweetheart.”

He kissed me softly, and I was starting to respond when the freakin’ server came up to take our orders.

Jordan’s eyes got a little wide when he saw the size of the menu—and the prices—but other than raising his eyebrows at me, he didn’t question it further.

We had a fabulous meal, gazing out at the sun setting over the harbor. The ocean turned from blue to a blaze of orange, then to silver as the evening slipped quietly into night.

I felt a frisson of sadness knowing that we’d be leaving real friends behind when we headed out. It had surprised me to find that there were lots of things that I was going to miss about small town Texas. Sure, we could come back and visit, but I also knew we were never going to live here again. It was for the best.

“So, what have you two planned for the rest of the evening?” I asked as we left the restaurant, well fed and super relaxed.

“There’s a great live music place that Pete’s taken me to before,” Bev said, excitedly. “They have a lot of blues and Texas country, but quite a few indie bands play there, too.”

We were nearly outside Dr. Rockit’s when Jordan suddenly came to a halt, his body stiff and unresponsive.

I saw immediately what had caught his attention.

Ryan Dupont.

I couldn’t believe that this would be the one person we’d run into, 30 miles from home.

“Jordan, no!” I gasped.

I couldn’t tell if he’d heard me or not; he didn’t respond.

Ryan’s eyes flicked to me, back to Jordan, then across to Pete and Bev, who weren’t sure what was going on, but knew it was nothing good.

Jordan spoke first.

“You gonna take at swing at me again, Ry? Because I’m tellin’ you, I’m done payin’ my debt and I’ll be swingin’ back this time.”

I don’t think Pete had ever gotten into a fist fight in his life because he looked as helpless as me and Bev. Even so, he took a step forward, ready and willing to take a stand.

Ryan didn’t even look in our direction; his eyes were fixed on Jordan. He shook his head slowly, his expression questioning.

“You didn’t press charges?” he said, quietly.

Jordan looked at him coldly. “Why would I?”

“Because…”

Ryan couldn’t finish the sentence, but Jordan just watched him, unblinking, unnerving.

“We were friends,” Jordan answered, at last.

Ryan swallowed several times. “I still hate you for what you did.”

Jordan didn’t move a muscle.

“I know.”

Ryan nodded, then spoke again.

“But I’ll always hate myself, too … for not stoppin’ you and Mikey gettin’ in the car that night.”

The two men continued to stare at each other, and I held my breath. Eventually, Ryan dropped his gaze and stepped around us, walking away, his shoulders hunched and his head down.

My heart was still racing from fear as I looked up at Jordan. His expression was distant but not angry or upset.

“Are you okay?” I asked, rubbing his arm to remind him I was there.

He gave a small smile and brushed a soft kiss over my lips.

“I’m havin’ a night out with my woman, so yeah, I’m good.”

“Jesus! That was intense!” Bev burst out. “I near about peed myself!” Pete rolled his eyes, and she pinched his cheeks. “Aw, you love me because I make you look classy, hon!”

I couldn’t help laughing and was relieved to see that Jordan was amused, too.

The bouncer at Dr. Rockit’s frowned when he saw Jordan, clearly assessing how much back up would be required if he needed to get drastic on his ass, but it wasn’t necessary.

We laughed and danced, and Jordan learned that I really did have two left feet, and he told me he loved me anyway. Then we danced some more, made a whole load of good memories, and drank until the place closed.

At the end of a wonderful evening, we walked to our hotel with its views over the harbor, and Jordan loved me until dawn.

Just like he wanted.

 

 

 

Jordan

 

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” Torrey asked me for the ninth or tenth time.

I smiled and raised an eyebrow.

“Waal, let me see … I’ve got my toothbrush, a change of underwear, my cell phone but I’m sure there’s somethin’ … uh, wait, there’s my ornery girlfriend who’s incredibly hot. Yup, I’ve got it all.”

She slapped my arm and pulled a face.

“Really, Jordan? You don’t wear underwear. There’s nothing else you want to bring?”

I shook my head. “There’s nothin’ for me here, sweetheart.”

That was true in so many ways.

I had a picture of Mikey in my wallet, but I didn’t need it to remember everything about him. He’d always be with me, in my heart.

“I’d like to stop by Mikey’s grave, just to say goodbye,” I said, seriously. “I haven’t been since…”

She knew what I meant without me having to finish the sentence.

“Of course,” Torrey said, with a smile. “I always thought we would.”

I turned to look at the house, the place I’d grown up, and the place where I’d learned to live again. I knew that it wasn’t the house that had done that, it was this amazing woman at my side. But still, the house had been my home once—it had been happy.

I wondered if I’d ever see it again.

I wondered if I’d ever see my parents again, as well. I’d stay in touch from time to time, for sure, but I didn’t feel particularly close to them. We’d tried to rebuild bridges, talked some about prison and about Mikey, but I was itchin’ to leave. My future was with Torrey and I wanted to look ahead, not back. It was time to move on.

They’d left early for church, knowing that by the time they got back, I’d be long gone. The goodbyes had been awkward and brief. I’d given vague promises about keeping in contact. I suspected Torrey would make me keep them.

I ran my eyes over the tall cottonwoods that Mikey and I had challenged each other to climb, the paint peeling on the house’s weatherboards, the gutters full of leaves, taking it all in.

I was leaving Mikey’s truck behind, too. I’d meant it when I said there was nothing here for me. My parents could do what they wanted with it—it wasn’t mine. Dad had implied I could have it, but I’d got over wanting anything from them. I turned him down.

I laid a hand on the fresh paintwork, the image of the bleeding heart with Mikey’s name across it, then slid into the passenger seat of Torrey’s Firebird.

“Ready?” she asked.

“I’m ready.”

I glanced in the side mirrors as she drove down the dirt road, seeing the house sinking back into the shadow of the trees. I was saying goodbye.

Torrey reached over to take my hand, squeezing it lightly, then she rested it on her knee.

It was fall, but the sun was still warm as we arrived at the cemetery. I could smell salt on the breeze drifting in from the ocean.

We made our way along the familiar paths to Mikey’s grave.

But as we approached, all the breath in my lungs left in a painful rush when I took in his tombstone.

 

Michael Gabriel Kane

 

November 25 1988—July 10 2006

 

Beloved Son

 

& Brother

 

“Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.”

 

 

“Oh my God,” Torrey whispered. “‘And brother’ … they … your parents … they’ve had the inscription changed!”

I nodded, unable to find the words.

I was there, memorialized with Mikey forever. With my parents. Our love for him recorded together.

After so many years of being erased, I was finally visible. It was nearly impossible to take in.

For the first time, I felt it inside, I felt forgiven.

“They’ll be at church now,” Torrey said, softly. “Do you want to go find them? Say goodbye properly? We can still do that if you like…”

“Yes,” I managed to say. “I’d like that.”

I rested my hand on the sun-warmed stone.

“Bye, Mikey. Got to get gone now. Torrey and me are leavin’ town and I don’t know if we’ll be back. I’ll never forget you.” My eyes drifted once more over the fresh inscription. “I love you, brother.”

Torrey took my hand as we walked back to the car.

“Are you okay?” she asked, anxiously.

I turned to smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”

The cemetery wasn’t far from the church. I could hear the sound of singing as soon as I opened the car door.

I knew Dad and Momma usually sat at the back, so I hoped we’d be able to see them without disturbing the service too much.

But that wasn’t what happened.

The singing finished the second I pushed open the heavy wooden door. It creaked loudly and everyone—the whole freakin’ congregation—turned to look.

Murmuring broke out everywhere. I saw the faces of my parents. They looked stunned. Then Dad waved at us, asking us to join them. I hesitated for a moment, but felt Torrey’s warm hand in mine and she smiled.

We walked up the aisle, and I couldn’t help feeling the weight of that symbolism with Torrey at my side.

As we sat down next to my parents, the murmuring grew louder. I thought we were seconds away from a walkout when Reverend Williams cleared her throat.

“The theme of my sermon today is forgiveness.” She looked right at me as she said it. “I want you to think about the words spoken by Our Lord in Matthew: Then Peter came up and said to him, ‘Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?’ Jesus said to him, ‘I do not say to you seven times, but seventy times seven’. ”

I was still sort of waiting for people to get up and walk out despite the Rev’s pretty speech, but they didn’t.

“I’ve been guilty myself,” the Rev continued. “Guilty of not doing as I preach. That changes today. I’d like to thank my daughter Torrey Delaney for joining us, and I’d like you all to welcome the son of Gloria and Paul. It’s good to see you, Jordan.”

There was a muttering of discontent but it was muted.

“Holy shit!” giggled Torrey, behind her raised hand.

It was all I could do to keep from laughing.

The Reverend talked some more, but I hardly heard her words.

I glanced across at Torrey—her eyes were glowing with love and pride. She squeezed my hand tightly and I saw her blink back tears.

Somehow my life had come full circle and I was again surrounded by my family, and felt love in my heart. The future was the road ahead.

“And I’d like to finish,” said the Reverend, “by reminding you of the words in Ezekiel: ‘ For I have no pleasure in the death of anyone, declares the Lord God; so turn, and live’. ”

I’d never been much for the Bible. Even so, I’d read it a ton of times in prison when the state pen library had nothing else to offer. But I liked those words, the ones about turning and living, because that was what Torrey had been trying to teach me. I’d finally learned the lesson, and it was what I intended to do.

At the end of the service, the congregation stood up to leave. Several people came to speak to Dad and Momma—a couple even thanked me for coming and shook my hand. I was so surprised, I didn’t know what to say. Torrey nudged my elbow and grinned at me.

Then I saw the Reverend walking toward us.

“Looks like your momma has somethin’ to say,” I whispered, nodding in the Rev’s direction.

Torrey pursed her lips and folded her arms.

“Don’t be too hard on her, sweetheart. What she said today was real nice.”

Torrey scowled. “Took her long enough to say it in public!”

“Yeah, well I seem to remember someone telling me that late was better than never,” I reminded her.

“Hello, Torrey, Jordan.”

“Reverend,” I said, holding out my hand.

She took it with a smile. “I hear you’re leaving us?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, fresh start. It seemed best.”

“Are you sure?” she questioned. “You have friends here in the community. It’s taken us a while, I know, but it’s true.”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure it’s true, but we appreciate you sayin’ it. Don’t we, sweetheart?”

I threw a look at Torrey who’d remained uncharacteristically silent.

“I’m glad I got to see you before you left,” the Reverend said to her daughter. “And in my church, too. That was a wonderful surprise.”

Torrey cracked a smile at her mother’s tone.

“Yeah, I’m glad, too. Good sermon, by the way, Mom. I liked the theme.”

The Rev smiled sadly. “But you’re leaving anyway.”

“Yes. Like Jordan said—a fresh start for both of us.”

“Where will you go?”

“We’ve got a few ideas but nothing definite. Maybe swing by and see Dad … and Ginger. ”

The Reverend smiled and raised an eyebrow.

“I have a new motto: ‘Judge not lest ye be judged’. What do you think?”

Torrey laughed. “I think it’s going to catch on.”

“Well…” the Reverend paused for a moment. “Say hello to your father for me—and Ginger. Travel safe. And Torrey, I know these past few months have been … difficult, but please know that if you ever need it, you’ll always have a home with me. Both of you.”

Torrey’s eyes filled with tears and she flung her arms around her mother.

“Thanks, Mom,” she choked out.

“I love you, honey. So much.”

Then to my amazement, the Rev pulled me into a tight hug.

“Good luck to you, Jordan. You deserve it, you really do. I believe you deserve my daughter’s love, too. And being her mother, I don’t say that lightly.” She smiled. “And one more thing: ‘For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope’. Look after my little girl, Jordan. She’s very special to me.”

“And to me, ma’am. I promise I’ll take care of her. You have my word.”

The Rev swiped at a couple of her own tears and managed a small smile.

“Thank you, Jordan. God bless.”

Outside the church we said our final goodbyes to my dad and Momma.

It was still stilted and awkward, but I thanked them for the new inscription on Mikey’s tombstone.

“I’m sorry it took so long, son,” said Dad. “It was your momma’s idea.”

I looked at both of them, seriously surprised. “Really? Well, um, thanks.”

I shoved my hands into my pockets and we stood there uncomfortably before Torrey kissed each of them, and grabbed my arm.

“We’ll be in touch, Paul, Gloria,” she said.

We climbed into the Firebird, and Torrey waved as she accelerated away. I didn’t look back.

 

 

 

Torrey

 

I waved out of the window as I drove away. Jordan neither waved nor turned around. He looked straight ahead, his face set, but his eyes calm.

I reached over and took his hand. He looked down at our entwined fingers, then raised my hand to his lips, placing a small kiss on each knuckle. My heart skipped, and I was grinning from ear to ear.

“So, where are we going, Jordan?”

He turned and smiled at me.

“Anywhere you want, sweetheart.” He waved his arm toward the horizon. “Anywhere you want.”

 

 

Jordan

 

It had been some road trip.

From Texas, we’d driven east, taking in most of the southern states, stopping at Graceland so Torrey could get some souvenirs for her friends in Boston. That’s what she said, but I’m pretty sure she was a closet Elvis fan.

We took our time on the journey, enjoying being together. Talking, always talking, and laughing a lot, planning for the future, daring to dream.

We stayed in cheap motels as we made the long trip north, but woke each morning to a world that seemed full of possibilities. Three or four times we slept outside, laying out blankets on the ground. Torrey wasn’t keen on camping, but after years of being in small rooms, I breathed easier outside, the sky limitless above us. She tolerated it, but the further north we drove, the colder it became, and the more she insisted on staying somewhere with a roof.

Fall in New England was just as pretty as everyone said it would be, but I was shocked by the change in temperature. Torrey said that was nothing, and that if we stayed another month, we’d need to get snow tires and chains.

I liked Boston more than I expected, despite not being big on cities in general. Seeing history in the buildings around me every day was new, and Torrey gave me a full tour of the Freedom Trail, including Paul Revere’s House. East Coast people were more chill than I’d been expecting, although crowds could still freak me out a little. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to get used to being around so many people. But wrapped up in a heavy sweater, my prison tattoos hidden, I didn’t feel like people were staring at me all the time anymore.

I liked South Boston—Southie, as Torrey called it—with the converted distilleries where a bunch of artistic types seemed to live, small galleries dotted around, and every café displaying paintings. I’d never been anywhere like that before. Hell, I’d never left Texas before. It made me want to start sketching again, something I hadn’t done since I was a kid, other than the picture I’d made of Torrey when she was sleeping. Of course, that meant Torrey turned up with a sketchpad and a box of drawing pencils. She was always trying to help me think big. It wasn’t easy, and I knew that if I got stressed, I’d shut down on her, but I was trying.

I hadn’t been looking forward to meeting her old man, but he’d been surprisingly okay, for a lawyer. At least, he hadn’t had me arrested. Yeah, I knew that was irrational, but I couldn’t help it. And Torrey said if I kept acting so suspiciously whenever I saw a cop, I’d get my ass arrested. Her exact words were, ‘Chill the fuck out!’

As Torrey had predicted, her dad had taken me up to his den to show me a cabinet full of golfing trophies. He cared less about the fact that I was an ex-con than that I’d never played golf. He offered to take me onto the fairway with him, but Torrey said we wouldn’t be staying that long. Thank God.

His new wife, Ginger, was something else. She sure didn’t seem like the kind of woman a lawyer would marry, but they seemed happy enough, I guess. And Torrey was right about her tits—they were freakin’ huge: with the emphasis on ‘freak’. Ginger said she used to be a singer on cruise ships going back and forth to the Caribbean before she got hitched. After hearing her version of Big Spender, I thought my ears would melt, and I couldn’t help wondering how much work she could have gotten from yowlin’ like a bobcat. Torrey’s dad applauded like he meant it, and I wondered if love was deaf as well as blind.

Ginger was friendly enough. Maybe even a little too friendly, and after the first evening we stayed with them, I begged Torrey never to leave me alone with her stepmom again. Torrey kept trying to find out what had happened, but I was taking that secret to the grave.

Torrey’s Boston friends had been less than friendly, which I could tell was a huge disappointment to her. They didn’t seem to be able to get over the fact that she’d given up her paralegal job because of her asshole ex-boss, to go and ‘lick her wounds in Whogivesashit-ville’, as one sharp faced woman in a suit had put it. And it was clear that they thought she was scraping the bottom of the barrel by hooking up with me. It wasn’t just about having been in prison, which Torrey was pretty open about, but surrounded by people with degrees from Harvard and MIT, they seemed to think I was just a dumb hick—all muscle and no brain, with straw in my hair.

I even heard one of them telling Torrey that I was the kind of guy that she should sleep with and forget. Except she didn’t say ‘sleep with’. Fucking bitch.

We didn’t stay long in Boston after that.

We celebrated my 24^th birthday in a wood cabin in Moose Brook State Park, eating pizza out of cardboard boxes, and drinking beer out of cans. It might not sound like much, but to me it was perfect. And I got to fall asleep in my woman’s arms.

We carried on north aways, almost to the border, then wintering in Vermont. We ended up living in a farmhouse with an old couple who needed someone to do the grunt work while their son was laid up with a broken leg. I knew some about cattle ranching, but that had all been big scale stuff. This was a small, organic farm that raised dairy cattle. I didn’t mind the work, but getting up at 4 AM to milk a cow who was more interested in wrapping a cold, wet tail around my face—well, it wasn’t for me.

But I saw snow for the first time, and Torrey helped me build my first snowman, too. I wanted to make love to her in the snow, but she’d nixed that idea, staring at me like I was crazy. Yeah, crazy for her.

Torrey had bought herself a laptop and was showing me all the amazing stuff I’d missed in the last eight years. I couldn’t get my head around some of the cool shit that had been invented. She’d even tried to get me one of those smartphones, but I argued that I didn’t need it, since the only person I ever wanted to call was her.

She set up Skype so we could talk to Bev and Pete. They had their own news: Bev had got a good job in Corpus working at something in finance, and they’d moved in together. They looked happy. We promised we’d meet up again, although none of us knew when that might be.

Our first Christmas together was perfect. We shared a huge roast dinner sitting with the old couple and their son in front of a real fire, watched It’s a Wonderful Life, and phoned our parents in the evening. My conversation was short, but I was kind of glad that I did it.

We’d even borrowed a toboggan from the barn and made ourselves a run behind the farmhouse. Then we went to bed, ate pumpkin pie, getting crumbs on the sheets and on each other.

With the Spring thaw, we headed west, following an old wagon train route across an unending landscape of flat, featureless horizons. We ran out of money in South Dakota so I had to take another job on a farm, while Torrey worked in the office. This farm was huge, with over 2,000 head of dairy cattle, and everything was automated. Neither of us liked it much, so we stayed just long enough to put money in the bank and gas in the car. We were driving a 12-year-old Toyota Prius these days. The Princess had died just outside of Iowa City. I was sad to see her go, but the whole engine block needed replacing and we just didn’t have the money. Torrey shed tears for that hunk of metal, but the Toyota was much lighter on gas. She said it was an old folks’ car but it got 42mpg, so I guess she didn’t mind too much in the end.

After South Dakota, we pushed on west, heading through Wyoming and Utah. By then, I think we both had a destination in mind, although neither of us said anything to confirm or deny it.

 

 

 

It was getting late by the time I saw the lights up ahead, the neon glow of the city throwing an orange halo into the night time sky.

Torrey was fast asleep, her head leaning against the window, my coat providing a makeshift pillow.

I felt excitement bloom in my belly. It was springtime, and we’d driven past miles of yellow, pink and purple flowers painting the desert with vibrant colors. We’d seen so much and been so many places, and yet we’d ended up here. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was inevitable. I liked to think that. From the very first day I’d seen her in the Busy Bee diner—it was all pointing to here.