Page 11 of Stained Hearts
Mom came rushing back in and threw her arms around me. “Let it out.”
I turned and buried my face in her stomach, clutching to her like I did when I was a little boy. She stroked the back of my head, letting me go on until there were no tears left.
I leaned back and scrubbed a sleeve across my face. “Thanks, Mom.”
“What did he have to say?”
I held out the letter, and she took it from my hands gently. Her eyes darted back and forth as she read, and then when she was finished, she, too, had tears.
“I can’t believe he swore.”
A laugh bubbled up from somewhere inside of me. “You weren’t supposed to know about it.”
“And you weren’t supposed to know about the cake.” She reached for my hand. “The one thing about the greatest of loves is that the person we’re with knows us better than we know ourselves. Your father, for instance? He has this… I don’t know… sense about him. He was at work one day when you boys were young, and I… I dropped something. Oh, I remember. It was a plate his mother gave us. I stood and stared at it, then fell to my knees, trying to clean up the mess, because I was afraid he’d be angry.”
She went to the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of Country Time Lemonade, popped the tops, and set one down in front of me before taking her seat.
“I was going to call him and tell him what had happened, when the phone rang. I picked it up, and the first words out of his mouth were ‘What’s wrong?’ I broke down, crying so hard, I couldn’t get the story out. He sat there and talked to me until I could pull myself together. When I told him about the plate and how sorry I was, he didn’t say anything more than asking me if I’d hurt myself. I told him no, I was fine. He said that was all that mattered. A plate could be replaced, he told me. I couldn’t.”
I’d had several things like that happen with Brian. He was always so attentive to my needs that he sometimes neglected his own. Early on, I started working for an insurance company while I finished school, and after he graduated, Brian went to work at a florist. He loved arranging flowers and had a knack for it. The problem was we had very little time together. That first month of being on weird schedules was trying for us, but Brian held everything together and made my life better in any way he could.
About three months after we were married, I came home late from work and found dinner waiting for me. Brian was sitting in the living room, reading a book, and when I walked through the door, he rushed in and served up the food. Then he sat down to talk to me about my day, and I heard his stomach rumble. When I questioned it, he admitted he was hungry but that we didn’t have enough for the groceries and the bills, so there was only enough for me.
I grabbed him and dragged him out the door in his flannel pajamas, with him protesting it was wet outside. Before he could say another word, I picked him up like a sack of potatoes, tossed him over my shoulder, and carried him out to the car. After I got him in, I drove us to Leon’s Custard and bought him a spicy burger and a custard sundae, despite his objections. When he asked why I’d done it, I told him that I would go hungry before I’d let him sacrifice. If there wasn’t enough money for both the bills and the food, then he damned well would eat. After that, he made smaller meals but made sure both of us got fed.
“Brian was… I can’t even put into words what he meant to me.”
She squeezed my hand. “You don’t have to. Anyone who saw you, whoknewyou, could see it.” She drew in a breath. “And he’s right. Holding him in your memory? That’s going to be there forever. But if and when you’re ready, don’t be afraid to lean on him for strength as you go back out into the world.”
God, I’d never been so scared in my life at the thought of leaving behind everything I loved. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”
“Then you’re not. This isn’t a race. Take baby steps or no steps, but we’ve watched you for a year now, and we don’t want you to stop living. Brian wouldn’t want that, and you know what he’d say.”
I shook my head because I needed her to say the words.
She stepped up behind me and put her hands on my shoulders. “He’d say, ‘Tommy, you told me you’d do anything for me. You know what I want—what I need—so stop being afraid. I’m always going to be with you, but there are other people who need the love you’ve got to give. Please, I’ll beg if necessary, but don’t keep all that heart to yourself.’”
I could hear the words in his voice, and I could see him standing there, his slender arms crossed over his chest, those brown eyes boring into me, holding me in their timeless depths.
“How do you know he’d say that?”
She leaned in closer. “Because he told me. He made us promise not to leave you alone. We gave you space, but now we’re doing what he wanted.”
“What about what I want?”
“Oh, Tom. Sometimes love means doing something for someone they won’t do for themselves. You want to be left alone to mourn, but we can’t allow that anymore.”
I stood up, anger searing me from the inside. “Can’t allow?”
“Yep. You’re our son, and we want you to be happy. I don’t think you are.”
Was I? No, not really. But holding on to Brian had become the only thing I knew.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nap? I’ll wake you when we’re ready to eat.”
I started to stand. “No, I should go. I need—”
She put her hand on my shoulder and held me in place. “You need rest and to eat. I’m going to guess you’ve not been doing much of that.” She eyed me keenly. “How much weight have you lost?”
