Page 99 of Home Safe

Jason is standing in the living room, shredding pages out of one of the illustratedHarry Potterbooks I gave him for his birthday. He’s yelling exclamation after exclamation of how he hates the books and hates me and hates Danae and hates all people and hates birthdays and hates just about every random thing about life he can think of to hate.

Danae’s hands are tented over her mouth, tears rapidly streaming down her cheeks. “Jason, stop!” she says, taking a step toward him.

I grab her elbow and hold her back, giving her a look to let me step in. After all, this was my fault. I triggered this.

Slowly walking toward Jason, I hold my hands out at my sides and speak with an even tone. “Hey, Jason. I’m really sorry that I upset you. How about we put the book down so we can talk?”

When he looks up at me, his eyes are like lava—the kind of lava that’s sloshing, sparking, exploding. He finishes ripping out the page in his hand, and then he throws the book at me. My shortstop reflexes kick into gear in time for me to dodge, but he moves to pick up the next book.

Taking quicker strides to reach him, I kneel down on one knee and reach my hand out to him. He jerks his arms away, clutching the book but not destroying it yet.

“Fireball, I’m really sorry I called you that name. I didn’t know you wouldn’t like it, and I’ll never call you that again, okay?” I say quietly. I can hear Danae’s heavy breaths behind me, and I watch the temperature of Jason’s eyes cool ever so slightly. Holding my hand out a little closer to him, palm up, I say, “Will you forgive me, Jason?”

His tiny chest rises and falls dramatically with his gasping breaths, and his eyes dart from my eyes to my hand to the book in his hands. His chin starts to quiver right before he wails, “I’m sorry! I don’t hate these books! I’m sorry! Why am I such a bad kid?! I try to tell my brain not to do bad things, but it tells me to do bad things because I’m a bad kid!”

He drops the book to the floor as he covers his face with his arms, and I gently reach out to touch his shoulder. When he doesn’t flinch away, I press against his back to pull him into a hug. He melts against me, sobbing into my shoulder, continuing his string of apologies and remarks of self-loathing.

I hold his head against my shoulder with one hand, firmly rubbing his back with the other. “Hey, I forgive you, man. You’re not a bad kid. You got really sad and mad, and that’s okay. Those are just books, a bunch of pieces of paper. I don’t care about the books. I care about you. I love you, Fireball,” I say quietly. I feel Danae’s touch on my shoulder as she kneels down to join us in a group embrace.

“Jason, it’s okay, we love you no matter what. We want you to be safe,” she says, voice still choked with emotion.

Several waves of tears later, Jason has calmed down enough to drink some water and eat a snack. A little blood sugar regulation certainly won’t hurt things.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Griffin. I’m sorry I said mean things, and I’m sorry I ruined the present you gave me,” he says. I hear the threat of renewed tears in his guilt-laden voice.

I tap a knuckle under his chin to get him to look at me. “Hey. You don’t need to apologize anymore. I said I forgive you. And you forgive me for calling you a name you didn’t like being called, right?” He nods. “So we’re both forgiven, and we’re not gonna keep thinking about it all the time, okay?” Another nod. “Would you want to play a game of Trash before I have to leave tonight?”

Jason shakes his head. “I’m really tired. I think I might want to go to bed. Is that okay, Mom?”

“Of course, bud,” Danae says, stroking his hair. “Should we have Mr. Griffin sit with us while we read a little bit from our book?”

“You’re still gonna read to me tonight?” Jason asks, voice and eyes thick with tears again.

Danae wraps him up in her arms, tears springing to her eyes as well. “Of course, I’m still going to read to you. I love you. Just because you got mad doesn’t mean I’m not going to read to you. That’s our thing!”

Jason nods and looks over to me. “Will you sit with us? Even though you don’t really like books very much?”

Smiling, I say, “I wouldn’t miss a chance to sit with you and your mom while you read together. I may not love books, but I love you both. So I’m in.”

While Jason changes into pajamas, I return to the parking lot to close the back door of my Jeep I'd left open in my rush to follow Jason. When I get there, I discover that a good neighbor already shut the door at some point. I pause to take a deep breath before heading back inside to join Danae and Jason.

If I wasn’t already head-over-heels in love with this woman, listening to her read to Jason would have put me over the edge for sure. The three of us squeeze onto Jason’s twin bed with him wedged between us. The only way we can possibly fit is for me to drape my arm around Danae’s shoulders, and she doesn’t seem to object.

Her voice is like spun sugar as she reads, equally drawing you into the story and lulling you into a state of utter relaxation.

I could get used to ending every day this way. I could get on board with books for twenty minutes every night if it means listening to Danae’s reading voice.

Jason is half-asleep by the time Danae places a bookmark in the book, so I carefully extricate myself from his bed. She crouches down and leans close to Jason, voice so hushed I almost don’t catch her words. “I’m with you one hundred percent, forever.”

“Love you too,” his voice murmurs back before she kisses his head.

We exit the room and walk down the stairs in silence. Danae heads straight for the living room and lowers herself onto the couch, dropping her head in her hands. I ease myself down next to her and gently massage her neck with one hand.

“Is that what it’s always like?” I ask, voice library-low. The muscles of her neck strain beneath my fingers as she nods. I wrack my memories from the times I saw my mom’s therapist for any sort of appropriate words that will ease Danae’s mind. Words that will show her I’m with her and not come across like an “it will all be okay” platitude.

My memory comes up empty.

I sit still, continuing to rub the tension from Danae’s neck as she breathes. Her hands are still holding her forehead, so at least her fingernails aren’t presently in danger.

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