Page 53 of When He Saved Me
Jamie and his mom, on the other hand, had spent a laughter-filled evening decorating with Bing Crosby playing in the background and hot chocolate warming on the stove. Aunt Cathy’s family hadn’t even participated, as this was something they’d always kept special just for themselves. The next day, Jamie had told me how he kept having to turn the lopsided tree in its stand until, eventually, he’d propped the heavier side against the wall in the hopes that it would keep it from tipping over. In his mom’s weakened state, she had taken on more of a supervisory role, with Jamie doing most of the actual work, but I knew he’d been happy to have that time with her.
These were the kinds of things I wanted in my life going forward. I wanted mismatched picture frames on my walls and kitschy ornaments on a lopsided tree and cookie-decorating contests and car rides in pajamas to look at Christmas lights. I wanted laughter and warmth and family. I could see a life like that with Jamie, and despite his declarations of love, I was terrified to hope for it. It was too new and fragile, and I’d never had anything like it. I didn’t know how to trust it.
But God, I wanted to try.
“You’re good for him, you know,” she said out of the blue. “Thank you for letting him in.”
“What?” I turned to her, certain I hadn’t heard her correctly. She was a kind woman, but I couldn’t possibly be the type of boyfriend she wanted for her son. She’d want someone like Asher with the polished good looks and understated elegance. Someone educated and with a solid future. Not a broody barista who moonlighted as a jazz pianist.
“You’re good for him. You challenge him. You make him want things for himself that he’s never allowed himself to want.”
“What do you mean?”
“You. He wants you. And I’ve never seen him work so hard to be with someone.”
“He’s had relationships before. Asher. I’m sure there were others.” I wasn’t sure what she was getting at. I wasn’t sure how my making him work for it was good for him. Didn’t that just mean I was a pain in the ass? Didn’t he deserve someone who thought he hung the moon and the stars and treated him as such?
“Asher is a sweet, sweet boy. I love him like he’s my own, and I will always be grateful that he was Jamie’s first love, but Asher wouldn’t have made Jamie happy long-term. He was too safe. Too comfortable. They loved each other in that tender way of young love, but there was no fire, no passion.” She raised her eyebrows, a sarcastic twinkle in her eye. “Teenage lust, maybe, but that’s just hormones. That’s not the stuff that makes your heart skip a beat or sets a flutter in your belly. It’s not what makes you laugh until you cry or carries you through the hard times.”
A shadow crossed over her face, gone in a flash, but I knew I hadn’t imagined it, and I wondered if she was thinking about her illness and what that meant for the future. I didn’t want to contemplate it. I was just getting to know her, already caring for her in a way that surprised me. I didn’t want to think about life without her, let alone what that would do to Jamie.
I rubbed my sternum, trying to soothe the ache that had built there. Turning back to the topic at hand, I said, “He’s a people person, everyone loves him, and he’s gorgeous. Surely he’s had other relationships that challenged him, though I’m not sure why that’s a good thing. I wouldn’t think fighting with someone all the time is healthy.”
“Is that what you two do? Fight?”
I thought back over the last couple of months and could only think of one instance that I would deem an actual argument. That was the weekend after Thanksgiving when I’d sort of shut down after Jamie brought Asher and Joshua to Ivory. Though I wasn’t sure that qualified as a fight. I supposed we’d each challenged each other’s perspective in that instance, and ultimately, the incident had pushed our relationship forward. We’d come to understand each other in ways we hadn’t before. And there’d been some other times where we’d pushed each other too, but she was right. Those were each of us challenging the other’s way of thinking, not fights.
“No, I suppose you have a point.” I shrugged, not really sure where to go from here. I didn’t want to argue with her, but I didn’t fully get what she was saying either.
Seeming to sense my struggle, she turned toward me and took my hand. Her skin was soft and cool against mine, and I marveled at the feel of it. I couldn’t remember ever holding a hand so small.
“Honey, Jamie has always worn his heart on his sleeve. He loves big and loud and bold. He’s quick to trust and quick to forgive. He’s fiercely loyal to his friends and family, which means pretty much everyone because he doesn’t know a stranger. But despite all of that, he’s never had a romantic relationship that lasted more than a few months besides Asher. Because while he’s all those things I said before, he isn’t interested in surface-level bullshit. He wants something meaningful. The physical isn’t going to be enough for him. He’s going to want someone he can talk to, have conversations with, someone who makes him laugh. Someone whochallengeshim. He saw what his dad and I had and isn’t going to settle for anything less.”
I looked down at our hands clasped between us, choking back some emotion I couldn’t or didn’t want to identify. “I um…I don’t know what that looks like. My parents weren’t exactly models of how to be in a healthy relationship. What if…?” I paused, swallowing past the knot in my throat. “What if I don’t know how to love him the way he needs? The way he deserves?” I whispered.
“You already do. He doesn’t need you to be anything other than who you are right now. The rest you’ll figure out together.”
A tear fell, then another, the drops landing side by side on my sleeve. “I just feel so broken,” I admitted, my voice shaky.
“Oh, sweet boy,” she said as she released my hand so she could place it around my shoulders and draw me in, placing my head on her shoulder as she hugged me to her. “Wounded, maybe. Hurt. But not broken. The ones who raised you, they’re the ones who are broken.”
I thought I’d cried enough tears for a lifetime last night. I didn’t want to shed any more tears for them, for the assholes who’d neglected me my entire life.
But these tears weren’t for them. They were for me. For the child who’d closed his heart to everyone so he couldn’t ever be disappointed. For the man I was now, who felt more love from this woman I’d only known a couple of months than from a lifetime with the people who’d raised me.
With each tear that fell, I released anger, hurt, and fear. I washed away regret and pain. No longer numb, I felt raw and exposed. But as the flow of tears began to ebb, I realized that as I released all of that shit I’d internalized for twenty-two years, I was allowing new feelings in. I felt hope. And as Annie held me tight to her, whispering nonsense in my ear like I was a small child in need of soothing, I felt cared for. Supported. Loved. And maybe even worthy.
Finally, I pulled away, wiping my face, feeling a little embarrassed at the way I’d lost it. She had a wet spot on her robe where my tears had landed, but as I looked at her, I realized that some of those tears had been hers as well. She, too, was wiping her face, her eyes red and a little puffy. “I’m sorry I upset you,” I said, feeling terrible that I’d made her cry.
“Sweet boy, you have nothing to be sorry about. Not one thing,” she said fiercely. “If you haven’t noticed, we feel things big around here.” Her mouth twitched in a sardonic grin. “Don’t ever apologize for that. That’s how we know we’re alive.”
I sat back against the cushions, resting my head on her shoulder. I wasn’t one to seek out physical touch from anyone, but this felt right. “Well, thank you. For…I guess for making me feel like maybe I’m going to be okay.”
“Of course you are. You’re stronger than you think.”
I smiled. “That’s what Jamie said last night.”
“He’s not wrong. Now”—she patted my arm—“go look under the tree. Over there, toward the right, there’s a small package wrapped in silver with your name on it.”
