by Street, K.
She ran a finger over his cheek. “Thanks, little man. Mommy’s not hungry.”
“I be back.” He ran from the room.
“You’ve got to eat.”
“I said, I’m not hungry.”
I set the sandwich next to the tea.
“Talk to me, kid.”
“I’m—”
“Fine? Is that what you were going to say? Because that’s bullshit, Say. You are not fine.” I lowered my voice. “This,” I said, pointing a finger at her curled up in bed, “is not fine.”
“Easton, please …”
Something gnawed at me. Helplessness. That was what this was, and I fucking hated it. Hated that my little sister, who had always looked up to me, was hurting, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to fix it.
Saylor had been so good at faking it. I’d thought she was doing better. Then, this morning, when I had seen her on the bathroom floor, for a split second, I’d imagined the worst.
“All right,” I relented.
Knox ran back into the room with that stuffed dragon he carried around. I watched my nephew as he put Rex in his mother’s arms. “Here, Mommy. You can have Rex.”
“Thanks, little man.”
“Come on, Knox. Let’s go eat lunch.” I ruffled his hair and then turned my attention to Saylor. “We’ll check on you in a bit.”
I left the food just in case she changed her mind, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath.
Twenty-Three
Saylor
The house was quiet. Easton had taken Knox to daycare, and then he had gone to work. Easton had promised to pick him up and said he would bring home dinner. My brother really was the best. He took such good care of Knox. I knew he always would, no matter what.
I am fine.
It was a lie. One I told myself every day.
Tomorrow would mark the first anniversary of Colin’s death. A year since my life had been split into two parts—then and now.
My geographic location might have changed, but I was still caught in the space in between. Like being suspended on a swinging bridge over river rapids. I couldn’t go backward because Colin wasn’t there and that life no longer existed, but I couldn’t figure out how to move on. How to be alive without him.
I snuggled deeper into the covers, closed my eyes, and gave myself over to the darkness.
* * *
“Wake up, sweetheart.”
The faintest caress skims my cheek.
I open my eyes and sit up. “Colin?”
“I’m here.”
“You’re here?”
He plants a kiss to my palm. “I’m here.”
Fresh tears sting my eyes. “I miss you. So much, it hurts. I hurt all the time.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry.”
The sadness in his eyes adds to my anguish. The ache is deep, so completely bottomless, and I can’t keep it inside.
“It’s so hard, Colin. A million times harder than I ever imagined. I don’t know if I can do it anymore.”
He wipes my tears and gives me a sad smile. “Yes, you can. You’re so strong, Saylor.”
“No!” I shake my head. “Everyone keeps saying that, but I’m not.”
Colin cups my face between his palms. “Yes. You. Are. You’re alive, and you have to start living. Knox needs you.”
“He needed you, too, and you’re gone.” I regret the words the second they leave my mouth.
“No.” Colin puts his forehead to mine. “I’m not gone, sweetheart.” He slides one hand around the back of my neck and then flattens his right palm over my heart, leaning back just enough to lock his gaze with mine. “I’m right here. I’ll always be here. I’m in you. In every beat of your heart. When you look at our son …”
I watch my husband swallow past the lump in his throat. His eyes brightly shining.
“When you look at our little boy, I’m there. In his smile and his laugh. In every beat of his heart.” He reaches for my hand and places it over his heart.
A sob breaks from deep inside me when I feel the steady thud beneath my palm.
“You’re here. You’re always with me. You and Knox both.”
“C-Colin,” I sob.
“Shh. It’s all right.” He tries to comfort me. “I need you to listen to me. Your heart … it’s so big. And you have so much love to give.”
“Please.” I put my fingers over his lips. I don’t want to hear the words I know are coming.
He kisses my fingertips and then takes my hands in his. “There is enough room for someone else. You have your whole life ahead of you. Promise me, Saylor.” He enfolds me into an embrace.
And I can smell him. His clean, soapy scent washes over me, clinging to my skin. I breathe him in, inhaling as deeply as my lungs will allow, and I still can’t get enough.
“Promise me you’ll love again. That you’ll let someone love you.”
“Colin, please.” My heart breaks into a million pieces.
“Promise me.” His words are desperate. Like he’ll never be able to have peace unless I tell him what he needs to hear. “Promise me,” he repeats.
“I p-promise.”
“I love you.” Colin feathers his lips over mine in the lightest whisper of a kiss.
“I love you, too.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead and stands.
The loss of his touch leaves me bereft. “No. Colin, w-wait. D-don’t go. Not yet. Please.”
“I won’t be far.” He uses the tip of his index finger to draw an X over my heart. “I’m here. Always.”
I reach for his hand, plant a kiss to the center of his palm, and close his fist around it. “I love you,” I tell him through my tears.
“Me, too. I’ll be seeing you, sweetheart.”
I woke on a sob, gasping for breath and reaching for Colin. He was here. I could still smell him, feel him, hear the urgency in his words. It hadn’t felt like a dream; it was so much more.
You promised.
The words sounded on repeat in my mind. I grasped Colin’s pillow and hugged it to my body. It was a long time before I summoned the strength to get out of bed. I’d thought the emotional dam broke the morning Jase found me in the kitchen, but it was merely a breach.
The dam had burst on Christmas night, and almost every waking moment since then, all I had done was cry and sleep. I was raw—not to mention, physically and emotionally exhausted—but I also had a little boy who needed his mom.
For the first time in nearly forty-eight hours, I got out of bed for more than just to use the bathroom. I stood on wobbly legs, my feet sinking into the plush carpet. I crossed the room, stopping in front of my dresser. A folded piece of paper caught my eye, and I reached for it, already knowing what it was. The paper crinkled as I straightened out the creases. This time, when I read the words, they didn’t send me crashing to the floor. Instead, a warmth bloomed within my chest, where Colin’s hand had rested moments ago.
Good morning, sweetheart.
You looked so peaceful this morning, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you. I’m taking Knox out for breakfast and then to run a few errands. Maybe we’ll go to the park. Relax and enjoy the peace and quiet. Call me if you need anything.
Love you,
C
I remembered that morning as though it were yesterday.
Colin had left the note on his pillow. When they returned home, Knox had a blob of chocolate on his new green dinosaur T-shirt. My boys had eaten pancakes and ice cream for breakfast. They’d both looked so happy that I couldn’t even be mad.
I laughed at the memory. I was still clueless as to how the note had ended up in my purse, but I was glad it had. I folded the paper and stuck it inside the top drawer where I kept my bras and panties. Then, I gathered my clothes and went to take a shower. After that, I stripped the sheets off my bed and snagged a fresh set from the linen closet.
How long has it been since I changed the sheets?
The question consumed me a
s I tucked the fitted fabric over the corners of the mattress. I reached for the top sheet, gathered the edge of the material in my grip, and extended my arms. A snap whipped the air before the cloth fluttered onto the bed. I straightened and tugged. Then, I made hospital corners and glided my hand over the sheet, smoothing out the wrinkles. When the bed was completely made, I stepped back and took in my handiwork. As I looked down at the blankets, the truth slapped me in the face.
I wasn’t just sad. This wasn’t just grief. It was bigger than that. Bigger than me.
I need to talk to someone.
It was time.
I grabbed my phone off the bedside table. There were a few missed texts from Jase, but I couldn’t bring myself to open them.
As I made my way across the hall to Knox’s room, I vowed to make a few phone calls next week and get in with a therapist.
Once I tidied the room and put fresh sheets on his bed, too, I started the wash.
It was after five when Easton got home with Knox. They found me standing over the kitchen island, eating a small bowl of Corn Pops.
I saw the relief on my brother’s face when he took in the sight of me, freshly showered and finally eating. He smiled, and I attempted one in return.
“Mommy!” Knox tore through the house, casting his small backpack aside as he made a beeline for me.
“Hey, little man.” My voice was a little raspy.
I lifted Knox into my arms and set him on the countertop, so I could get a good look at him, and my heart squeezed. He looked so very much like his father.
I planted kisses on each of his cheeks. “I love you.”
“Mommy. Know what!” he said, oblivious to my turmoil. “Duke pushed Finley on a playground and him made her cry.”
“Well, that wasn’t very nice, was it?”
He shook his head. “I punched him in a tummy.”
Easton tried to hold in his laughter. “There’s a note in his bag for you.” He set a pizza box along with two takeout bags from Gustavo’s on the other end of the counter and began unloading them.
“Knox, we don’t hit people,” I said, making a half-assed attempt at scolding him.
“We no push them either. ’Specially girls.”
“No. But two wrongs don’t make a right.”
Oh my God, I am turning into my mother.
“Did you tell Duke you were sorry?”
“Yep,” he huffed. “Miss Keri say that. And me and Duke had a go to time-out chairs.”
“No more punching. Do you understand?”
Knox groaned. “Yes, ma’am.”
If I was supposed to scream at him or put him in time-out, it wasn’t going to happen. I had zero energy, and his teacher had already taken care of it. I was proud he’d stood up for his friend. Maybe that was wrong, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Right now, I was just trying to hold my shit together.
I kissed the top of his head. “Go wash your hands,” I ordered as I helped him off the counter.
He ran to the bathroom, leaving East and me alone in the kitchen.
“Saylor?”
“Yeah?” I carried my bowl to the sink, turned on the water, and dumped the rest of my cold cereal into the disposal before flipping the switch. The whirring sound filled the room. After a few seconds, I shut it off along with the water and then twisted to face my brother.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Better. Or I will be. I’m really sorry …”
Easton stopped what he was doing and pulled me into a hug. “You scared the hell outta me, kid.”
“I know. I scared me, too.” Surprise filled me when I admitted those words aloud. My thoughts had gone dark. Not that I would have acted on them, but the fact that my mind had gone to that place frightened me.
I couldn’t tell Easton about those thoughts or how vivid my dream of Colin had been. Or the pictures on my phone that sparked the memory of the fourth stocking. I wasn’t ready to share. The pain remained too close to the surface.
“I’m here if you need to talk. If you can’t talk to me, we’ll find the right person.”
“Thank you.”
“Always.” Easton kissed the top of my head the same way I had done to Knox moments ago.
I squeezed him tight and then let him go. “I mean it, East. Thanks for taking care of Knox yesterday and taking him to school today. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” I let out a heavy exhale and crossed my arms. “I’m going to call around next week and see if I can find a therapist or a grief counselor. That breakdown was a long time coming …”
“Want to talk about it?” he asked gently.
“Maybe later.” I wasn’t sure I’d talk about it then either, but the worried look on my brother’s face made me feel awful. I knew I’d been putting him through a lot lately. Fooling my family had been much easier when I wasn’t living under the same roof.
“Fair enough.” He pointed to the food. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I got fettuccine Alfredo, pasta primavera, and salad.”
“It smells amazing.” Except for the cereal I’d had earlier, I hadn’t eaten since the meal we had on Christmas Day. Anything heavy was out of the question. “Maybe some salad.”
“Sure.” Easton snatched some plates from the cabinet and started dishing up the food.
Knox came barreling back into the kitchen, and the three of us sat down to eat. I tried to stay rooted in the moment. I didn’t want to think about tomorrow.
* * *
Later that night, I sat on the edge of Knox’s bed and tucked him in.
“Mommy, you sad?”
His question jolted me.
“Why do you ask?” I smoothed his hair off his forehead.
“Your smile is all gone. Uncle East tell me you miss Daddy.”
I hated that my sadness weighed on him. I hadn’t talked to Knox about his father in ages. Not since after the funeral. It was too hard, and he was so little. He had turned three just two weeks before Colin died. Knox knew his daddy was in heaven. Explaining death to a child, especially one so young, wasn’t easy. Sometimes, when he saw a picture, he would comment, and a few minutes later, his attention would be on something else.
“Mommy, you miss Daddy?” he asked.
“Yes, very much.”
Knox wiggled from under his covers and climbed onto my lap, straddling my legs. Thick lashes adorned his big brown eyes. They were so expressive as he looked at me. His hand moved to my chest, right over my heart.
“Daddy is in there.” He patted my chest. “You can not see him ’cause he is invisible.”
I tried to hold back a gasp. “Who told you that?”
“Daddy.”
“When, Knox?” My insides tensed. None of this made sense. “When did Daddy tell you?”
He shrugged.
“Do you see him?” It sounded insane to my own ears, but I had to know.
“When I sleep.”
His answer gave me a sense of relief.
Knox lifted my hand. “Feel my heart, Mommy.”
I flattened my palm on his chest, relishing the rhythmic thump against my hand.
“You feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“Daddy knocking in there.”
A single tear rolled down my cheek. “I do.”
“He knock in your heart like mine.” Knox pressed my free hand to my heart. Then, he reached up and swiped the trail of wetness from my face. “No be sad anymore.”
I hugged my sweet little boy against me and did my damnedest not to lose it.
It wasn’t long before Knox squirmed from my hold and crawled back under the covers. I curled up beside him, so we were facing each other.
“I wanna story, Mommy.” He yawned and inched closer, placing his palm over my heart.
I thought for a minute and then told him the story of a little mouse family who went to the circus.
Knox drifted off right before Lily Mouse and her brother, Lyle, got to ride the elephant.
I smoothed his hair back and dropped a light kiss against his forehead before laying my hand on his chest.
“I’ll always be here. I’m in you. In every beat of your heart.”
“When you look at our little boy, I’m there. In his smile and his laugh. In every beat of his heart.”
Colin’s words floated through my head like dandelion tufts, filling me with warmth.
“Good night, Colin,” I whispered into the darkness.
“Good night, sweetheart.”
I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. When I fell asleep, my hand was over Knox’s heart, and his hand was over mine. Colin was there, too, in the cadence of our heartbeats.
Twenty-Four
Saylor
Knox softly snored beside me. I was awake, but I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes, not wanting to face the day I had dreaded for so long. December 28 was more than just a date on the calendar. Its significance was a heavy, weighted blanket draped over my soul.
When I’d woken up three hundred sixty-five days ago, I’d had no way of knowing that, in a matter of hours, the trajectory of my life would shift off its course. There weren’t any warning signs or flashing neon lights. No alarms sounded. No sirens wailed.
Then, the unimaginable had occurred.
That thing we told ourselves couldn’t happen to us because it happened to other people. Well … I was other people, and I hadn’t been prepared for it.
Three hundred sixty-five days later, I was still struggling. Colin’s words pulled me out of that bottomless, dark place. I knew there would still be rough days ahead. Grief was like that. A constant ebb and flow. I was still sad. Still broken. Still grieving. I wasn’t suddenly over the loss of my husband, but today, instead of focusing on Colin’s death, I wanted to focus on his life. I wanted to honor him.
I crept quietly out of Knox’s bedroom long before it was time to get him up. I pulled the door closed with a gentle click and then went into the kitchen. It was barely after seven, but Easton was already awake and dressed for work.