Page 112 of Worthy

“Do you…” He glances around the gloomy wreck of a house. “Do yougoanywhere?”

“I don’t need to. Everything is brought to my front step.” With my seniority at the architectural firm, I’ve been able to hand off and receive plans by courier instead of going to the office. I can’t bring myself to face the space Brendan and I shared for so many years, full of his drawings and notes. “I prefer to stay in. And I don’t really need to hear your opinion on it, thank you.”

Playing with the string of his hoodie, he tilts his head thoughtfully. “You left the house to get me.”

“Yes, well.” I set the Raisin Bran, two bowls, and some milk on a tray and nod toward the back deck, because I need to get somewhere less suffocating. “I couldn’t have you delivered, could I?” Brushing past him, I nudge the sliding door open with my shoulder. Summer’s heat hasn’t quite arrived yet, and Kota shivers as he lowers himself gingerly into a patio seat. I duck inside to grab myself a sweater and, after hesitating a long moment, my denim jacket.

When I offer it to Kota, he blushes a little, impossible to miss with his complexion. “Can you help me?”

The jacket is too big for him, so it’s easy to slide it up his arms and tuck it around his shoulders. He immediately wraps it tight and retreats his neck into the collar like a turtle until it covers up the bottom half of his face.

As I pour two bowls of cereal and milk, he turns his eyes toward the distant view of the lake, dotted with white specks of boats. The silence is broken only by spring birdsong, but it feels companionable rather than awkward—which is saying something, because I hate sharing my space with others.

Taking the spoon I offer him, he turns it over in his hands instead of eating. He looks much older when he’s thinking, like he’s lived through twice as much as other people his age. Finally, he crosses his bare legs in the chair and takes a deep breath. “Are you okay, Jamie?”

No one has asked me that question since I got the news about Brendan. The people who knew simply said “I’m sorry” in a way that communicatedplease don’t make me talk about this more. The people who didn’t know never noticed that my behavior had changed. I had no idea how much I just wanted someone to ask how I’m doing.

“I—” My voice comes out unsteady. I concentrate and try again. “I had a colleague, Brendan, who I’ve worked with since graduate school. We started our own firm together fifteen years ago. Earlier this year, he got struck by a drunk driver while crossing the street at night. He was gone before paramedics even reached the scene.” I stir my cereal in a slow, soggy circle, then take an aggressive bite, waiting for him to back off and change the subject like everyone else.

He’s silent for a long time, chewing his lip and watching a bird hop along the railing of the deck. Then he lifts his chin and offers me a kind smile, with no discomfort or impatience in his eyes. “What’s your favorite memory of him?”

I blink in confusion, but he waits curiously for me to speak. “I don’t revisit memories. They’re painful.”

He huffs out the ghost of a laugh. “Believe me, I know. But that’s where Brendan lives now, and if you don’t go back and visit him sometimes you might lose the way.” Something nudges my leg, and I look down to see his bare toes pressed against my knee. “Just try. If it’s too much, you can stop.”

If my mind were a house, every room would be full of memories of Brendan. As soon as I start opening locked doors, the suffocating grief I’ve been hiding from rushes in. Just as I’m about to give up, I spot one small moment I had almost forgotten. Even now, it makes me smile.

“We designed an office building a few years ago with a rotunda lobby. He spent months fiddling with the design for the ceiling, all this glass and glittering stone and reflective surfaces. No one could understand what he was wasting his time on, not even me, but he stood his ground. Once the building was done, he dragged me there on a Monday morning with people everywhere and laid down in the middle of the floor to show me the realization of his vision. He was on top of the world, and I was mortified.” I chuckle in spite of myself. When the next wave of pain hits, it feels gentler, tempered by the image of Brendan’s face bathed in shimmering sunlight. “I didn’t lie down on the floor with him, but I always wished I had.”

Kota’s cheek dimples as he smiles. “It’s awesome that you have pieces of him in the buildings you made. You should go see him there.” I think Brendan would have loved this boy. Both of them looked at an ugly, unfair world and saw the potential to make it better.

“You remind me of him.” Pushing my cereal away, I lean back and rub the stubble along my jaw. Kota’s foot is still resting against my thigh. “You’re both brave, and you’re both dreamers. I’m the stick in the mud you drag behind you.”

He narrows his eyes, looking straight through me. “If you hadn’t found me in this exact seat four years ago, I don’t know where I’d be. You told me I had the strength to be myself.”

“You get every ounce of credit for the things you’ve done, Kota.” I rest my hand on his calf, and I can’t stop my thumb from skimming along his warm, hair-dusted skin. He doesn’t flinch or pull away, but I see him swallow and his nostrils flare slightly. Part of me knows where this is headed if we’re not careful. Maybe it’s my responsibility, as the older one, to do something before it’s too late. But I don’t move my hand. “I just wanted you to know that I could see you, despite the hoodie that was large enough for a family to camp in.”

The tension eases as he cracks up, wrinkling his nose. “Now that I’ve had surgery, I’m going to burn that fucking thing. Can we float it out onto the lake and shoot a burning arrow at it like a Viking funeral?”

I can feel that unfamiliar smile tugging at my mouth again. “Legality aside, I’m not sure either of us should be trusted with a sharp weapon.”

He scrunches up his eyes and holds his breath for a moment, then bursts out, “That’s what he said. Sorry, I couldn’t let it pass.”

“Don’t expect me to be impressed when I pretty much handed you that one. Provide your own innuendos next time.” Grabbing his bowl, I stack everything on the tray as he stares at me in surprise, then dissolves into laughter again.

Inside, I make a deal with Kota that if he rests on the couch for ten minutes, I’ll let him help me fold clothes. Just as I planned, he falls asleep within three minutes and doesn’t stir as I clean around him. Nothing has changed since yesterday, when touching these piles of trash felt like an insurmountable obstacle, but something about the exhausted boy snoring with his mouth open in the light from the window gives me the clarity to take one step at a time and watch my world start to come back together.

Chapter five

Kota

I should be excited for my four day post-op appointment. Mallory is coming home tomorrow, so once my drains are taken out it’s time for me to move back into my apartment and take my first steps toward independence. But after four peaceful days of sleeping and hanging out with Jamie, part of me doesn’t want to go back. This is the last morning I’ll get to wake up early and watch him sleep next to me. It’s the last time I’ll study his silver-laced curls and the flex of his strong forearms as he changes my dressings, and it’s the last day I’ll eat breakfast in his office and watch him work.

A sense of loss follows me as I pack my things and we make the silent drive to the surgeon’s office. I wanted to leave Jamie with a full pantry, so I begged him to go grocery shopping while I’m at my appointment. He finally agreed after I let him buy the food I’ll need while I’m still too weak to shop for myself. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” he asks in the parking lot, pulling down his sunglasses to study me with his intense gaze.

“I’m fine, it’s not a big deal.” I sound more confident than I feel; I’ve heard stories of guys getting sick or even passing out when their body starts to process the dramatic change. But he nods and squeezes my arm reassuringly before I get out.

With the help of the same enthusiastic nurses who woke me up from surgery, my drain removal goes flawlessly. After they re-secure my binder, I’m even able to contort myself enough to pull a loose t-shirt over my head.

---