No Regrets

by Claire Kent

  I wondered why he’d agreed to have me go with him. I wondered why I’d even volunteered.

  Josh’s parents lived—now just his dad—in a retirement community outside of Phoenix. It was just a two-bedroom place, and his sister and her family were already staying there, so I’d reserved us a hotel room nearby.

  It was too early in the day for our hotel room to be ready, so I drove right to the house.

  There were a number of cars out front. I parked on the curb, farther down the street, and then took the key out of the ignition.

  Josh hadn’t even taken off his seatbelt, and I sat and watched him without speaking.

  I wanted to comfort him somehow, but I didn’t know how. I was pretty sure I wasn’t even allowed.

  “Are you ready?” I asked at last, my voice slightly hoarse. It felt like a long time since I’d said anything.

  “Yeah.” He took off his seatbelt and shifted in his seat. “Thanks for doing this. I know it might be awkward. Being dumped into the middle of my family like this.”

  “It’s fine. I know how it is. I’m glad I could come. I feel like…” I trailed off, unsure of how he would react to what I’d been about to say.

  His eyes rested on my face. “You feel like what?”

  “I feel like you need someone with you.”

  He gave a strange little nod—maybe in agreement or maybe just to acknowledge I’d said something—and then he got out of the car. I climbed out too, and we walked to the front door.

  He tried the knob without knocking, and it was open, so we just walked in.

  The first person to see us was a woman who looked around my age. She had brown hair and blue eyes just like Josh. She’d been carrying an empty water bottle, but she put it down on a side table as soon as she saw us and came over to hug Josh.

  She was crying a little as he returned the hug, and I thought Josh seemed rather stiff. He didn’t pull away, though. I figured it was his sister.

  “I’m Jane,” she said, when she finally drew back and turned toward me. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “His sister.”

  “This is Leslie,” Josh said simply. He didn’t add any explanation or definition of my relationship to him, and his sister didn’t ask. She just came over to give me a hug too.

  Now, I’m happy to hug my family and my friends, and I certainly wouldn’t have said no to a hug from Josh. But I’m not big on hugging strangers, so I felt a bit uncomfortable at her obvious emotion and enthusiastic welcome.

  I made sure not to show it, though. I told her it was good to meet her, and then we came further into the living room for more introductions.

  There were a lot of people in the small house. In addition to Josh’s dad and sister, there were her entire family, which included four children, his brother and his brother’s wife, Josh’s grandmother and two of his aunts, and then a couple of neighbors. I did my best to remember names and relationships, but it was an awful lot of new people to keep straight.

  Everyone seemed glad to see Josh, and I could see they were curious about me. But nobody asked, and he never clarified my relationship to him.

  I figured that was probably the easiest thing to do. They’d think we were a couple, but it was simpler to let them think that than explain that Josh and I had a casual, no-strings-attached, sex thing going on.

  The day was long and kind of disorienting. There was a lot of sitting around. And there was a lot of eating, since people kept bringing over food. And there was a lot of talking and crying—although not from either Josh or me.

  He spoke whenever he was spoken to, and his composed demeanor never broke. But he wasn’t himself. I knew very well that he wasn’t himself.

  Late in the afternoon, Josh volunteered to go to the store, since his sister wanted paper plates and utensils so they wouldn’t have to keep running the dishwasher. I’d been trying to make small talk with his aunt, who kept asking if we were going to buy a house soon and if we were going to have any kids—and I wasn’t getting any younger so we really should get started on that. But Josh gestured at me with his head, and I sighed with relief to make an escape for a little while.

  “We can get their plates and stuff and bring them back. Then we should go ahead and check into the hotel so we can change for the viewing this evening,” he said, putting a hand on my back as we went down the front steps.

  “Sounds good.”

  I figured he’d needed to make an escape as much as I did, and this was verified when he collapsed in the passenger seat with a low groan.

  “You making it?” I tried to sound light, so he wouldn’t think I was hovering.

  “Yeah.” He kept his eyes closed as I started to drive. “Thanks for putting up with all of this. Was Aunt Sylvie asking you about kids?”

  “Yeah. I’m not as young as I used to be, you know, so we really need to buckle down and start having them.”

  He gave a soft chuckle. It was the first time I’d heard him laugh since last night, and the sound of it relieved me a little. “Sorry about that. What did you tell her?”

  “I just kept saying we were playing it by ear. I know she thinks we’re…we’re…a couple, but I thought it would be easier not to try to explain things.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I thought too.”

  I glanced at him and decided he was telling the truth, and he didn’t care if his family thought that he and I were in a serious relationship.

  We went to the store to pick the stuff up, went back to the house to drop it off, and then left soon afterwards to check in at the hotel and change clothes.

  The viewing was early in the evening, and then we all piled back in the house for dinner. I was exhausted by the time it was over, and I was getting worried that Josh was so quiet and matter-of-fact.

  It wasn’t like I expected him to have his normal verbal skill or charisma, but his composure seemed unnatural, somehow, like it was holding back too much.

  He didn’t tell stories or share memories of his mother, the way everyone else did. And he never even teared up.

  I was exhausted by the time we finally headed back to the hotel for the night. It was after ten, and I’d gotten up at four Kentucky time.

  I changed clothes and got right into bed, but Josh went to take a shower first.

  It was a room with one king-sized bed. The only light left on was the one next to his side of the bed. He came out wearing a pair of boxers and climbed in beside me.

  I rolled onto my side to face him. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine.”

  It was a stupid question and a stupid answer, but that’s what people do.

  He was on his back with his head turned toward me. I could hear him breathing.

  “When was the last time you saw your mom?” I asked, something compelling me to speak, even though I knew he’d rather I not.

  He let out a strange, little exhale. “The Christmas before last.”

  “Oh. Did you talk to her much?”

  “She called every Saturday morning. Always at ten o’clock.”

  “That’s good,” I said, emotion tightening in my throat again. “I mean, it’s good that you talked to her every week.”

  “Yeah.” He turned his head to stare at the ceiling in the dark room. “I almost never called her.”

  “Well, if she called every week, then you didn’t really have to.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You didn’t hang up on her or cut the conversation short, did you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “A lot of people don’t talk to their moms every week. I’m sure the fact that you did meant something to her.” I paused, reflecting, since he still felt like suppressed emotion was brewing inside him.

  “We played chess.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She taught us all how to play chess when we were kids, but I was the only one who liked it. We always had a game going. We’d play by emailing each other moves every day.”

  I was s
o touched by the thought that I lifted a hand to my chest. “You kept it up all the time? Through now, I mean?”

  “Yeah. I sent her my last move two days ago. She never had the chance to reply.” His voice broke on the last word.

  “Oh, my God, Josh,” I murmured.

  “She wanted me to come out a few months ago, for my dad’s birthday. But it wasn’t that long after I moved to Lexington, and I told her I couldn’t make it.”

  “I’m sure she understood.”

  “I should have gone. I could have taken the time.”

  “You can’t beat yourself up about it, Josh.”

  “Why not? I could have done better. I should have done better.”

  I felt so bad for him that I scooted over until I was right at his side. I put a hand on his chest. “We all could do better. All the time. You did the best you could.”

  “See, but that’s the thing.” His voice had gotten hoarser as he spoke, although his face still conveyed no emotion. “I didn’t do the best I could.”

  I had no idea what to say to that. I knew what he meant, though. He’d been cutting himself off from intimacy of all kinds, and that evidently included closeness with his own family.

  In lieu of any comforting words, I just stroked his bare chest slowly, sliding my hand along the rippling muscles, the ridges of his ribs, the scattering of coarse hair, the flat planes of his belly.

  Neither of us said anything else, and it was a long time before either of us slept.

  ***

  The next morning we went back to the house for more awkward sitting, talking, and passing around food. Then it was the funeral and graveside service. And then back to the house.

  Josh wasn’t any more open or demonstrative today. He didn’t break down at the funeral or the graveside. He nodded when other people spoke, but he didn’t talk about his mother at all.

  Occasionally, I saw Jane or his father looking at him, checking his expression. I didn’t know if it was from concern or confusion, though.

  After dinner, I was cleaning up in the kitchen—mostly for something to do—when Jane came to join me.

  She picked up the casserole pan I’d just washed and started to dry it.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said, giving me a little smile.

  My eyes widened as I scrubbed at another pot. “Sure. Of course.”

  “I’m glad Josh has you.”

  I felt awkward again. Embarrassed. And strangely empty. But I just murmured, “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “When we were kids, he never seemed to have the normal barriers around his heart that most people have. He would cry over dogs he saw hit on the side of the road and commercials about starving children. Other boys would tease him all the time, because he was so sensitive, but it took a long time for him to toughen up.”

  I thought about Josh as a little boy. A sensitive, little, blue-eyed boy who hurt with all the suffering in the world.

  “His girlfriend in college was into social activism, and she got him involved in all kinds of causes. They went to Africa two summers in a row to volunteer with NGO’s, but she decided against it as a career during her senior year. But, by then, Josh had already set his heart on it, and there was no way to change his mind. I guess he’s probably told you all this.”

  He hadn’t told me much. Of anything. I said, “He doesn’t like to talk about it a lot.”

  “I know. He’s been really distant since he came home from Africa. You know what happened, right? There was that massacre he saw—I can’t even imagine. And then everything kept getting to him until he couldn’t handle it anymore. He was really emotionally damaged.”

  “I know he was.”

  “Is he doing better, do you think?” Jane’s eyes were anxious as they searched my face. “For the last few years, he’s been pulling away from everyone who loves him, and he won’t let himself get close to anyone.”

  “He’s still working through things,” I said carefully, not wanting to lie, but also not wanting to share things that were private to Josh. “I think he’s doing better.”

  “I didn’t even know he was in a relationship. I didn’t think he would let himself yet.” Jane smiled as she set the pan inside a larger one on the counter. “I’m so glad he’s with you.”

  So then I felt a little guilty, on top of everything else, that my presence was giving his family hope that wasn’t really justified.

  But there wasn’t anything I could say except, “Thanks.”

  There were no more dishes to wash, since everyone had eaten off paper plates, so we walked to the entrance of the living room. Both of us stood there for a minute, and my eyes settled on Josh, who was sitting on the floor, talking to his nephews.

  He seemed a little better, talking to the boys. Like he wasn’t holding so much back.

  “He’d be such a great dad,” Jane said, very softy, her eyes watching Josh too. “But I don’t think he’ll ever give himself the chance.”

  He wouldn’t even let himself have a dog. I couldn’t imagine he would ever let himself have a child.

  He glanced over and saw us watching him, and his eyebrows lowered slightly. I turned away and asked Jane, “Is there anything else I can do? To help around the house, I mean?”

  “I don’t think so…well, I guess, if you don’t mind, you could help me get the air mattresses ready for the kids. We had to deflate them to give ourselves room during the day.”

  “Sure.” I was relieved to have something constructive to do, and Jane was pretty easy to be around, for the most part.

  We inflated the two air mattresses they were using on the floor of the guest room, and then I helped her make them up with sheets and blankets.

  We were only gone from the main part of the house less than fifteen minutes. I’m not sure what happened while we were back in the bedroom. I have no idea how things went downhill so quickly.

  But, when we heard raised voices from the other side of the house, Jane and I met gazes and then hurried back into the living room.

  Josh and his father both were standing up now. Josh had three dirty paper plates in his hand, so he’d obviously been picking them up.

  His father was in the middle of some sort of tirade against him. I didn’t hear the first part, but when I arrived, he was saying, “…and you didn’t even visit her, even when she asked you to. Do you think paying our association fees makes up for not giving your own mother any of your time? I know it was hard in Africa, but that isn’t an excuse for how you treated her. She loved you, and she worried about you all the time. And you barely gave her the time of day.”

  Josh looked stunned, frozen, the way he had the other night when he’d gotten the call from his brother. He just stood in the middle of the floor, the pile of plates in one hand.

  “Dad, please,” Jane said, reacting more quickly than I did. “Don’t do this now.”

  Josh’s father turned to his daughter. The man had obviously been completely devoted to his wife, and he was utterly heartbroken at her sudden death. I’d been able to see that from the first time I’d met him.

  “Why not now?” he demanded. “When his mother is dead.” His face twisted with emotion, and his body shook for a moment. “She’s dead. And he won’t even cry for her.”

  Everyone else in the room was silent, trapped in place. They were either shocked speechless, or they agreed with Josh’s dad, or they were too afraid to say anything.

  I went over to stand beside Josh, emotion choking my airways, trembling through my whole body. I was with him, no matter what happened here. I was with him.

  Then his youngest nephew started to cry. Jane went over to hug her son and said to her father softly, “Dad, that’s not fair. People grieve in different ways.”

  “Well, he did hurt Mom’s feelings a lot.” That was Jimmy, Josh’s brother, whom I suddenly wanted to smack.

  I had the random thought that none of them had known about Josh’s virtual chess game with his mom.

  Josh seemed so frozen a
nd so alone in this room that I couldn’t bear it. I took the plates out of his hand and put them on the coffee table. Then I reached down and took his hand.

  I thought he might try to pull away, but he didn’t. To my surprise, he clamped down around my hand so tightly it almost hurt.

  “This isn’t the right time for this,” Jane said, so upset her face was twisting. “Can we please deal with this later?”

  “There’s nothing to deal with,” Josh’s father said. “We said what needed to be said. What happens next is up to him.”

  I have no idea what Josh’s father expected to happen. If he thought Josh would break down and fall into a group hug, he’d be sorely disappointed. Even I knew that much.

  Josh was shaking very slightly. I could feel it in his hand, in his body. And his expression was very tight. Everyone was watching him, waiting to see what he’d do. Whether he’d burst out in anger, storm out of the room, break down in tears, or what.

  Instead of any of that, he said, “I’m…sorry.” The words were gritted out, as if against their will.

  His fingers tightened even more in mine, and I felt such a wave of intense sympathy that I made a strangled sound and reached over toward him, until I was kind of hugging his arm.

  “We know you are,” Jane said, tears streaming down her face. “We love you, Josh. We all love you. And Mom loved you too.”

  A strange sound came out of Josh—something soft and stretched and in his throat. But he still didn’t move. He didn’t seem capable of it.

  I met Jane’s eyes, and we shared some sort of unspoken communication.

  “It’s getting late,” I said, surprised to discover that my eyes were filled with tears too. I shook them away impatiently. “Maybe it would be better to try to talk things out in the morning.”

  “Yeah,” Jane said, looking relieved at the suggestion. “Is that okay, Josh?”

  He looked at me and then Jane and then his father.

  When he didn’t speak, I reached up to cup his face and make him meet my eyes. “Josh? Should we just head to the hotel for now? We can come back in the morning.”