Stained Hearts (Links in the Chain Book 3)

by Parker Williams

  “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, who knew you, 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?”

  “What? None.”

  She sighed and reached out, poking me in the ribs. “Okay, try again. How much weight have you lost?”

  I closed my eyes, unable to look at her. “Forty pounds.”

  She gasped. “Okay, you’re not leaving this house until tomorrow at the earliest, so don’t argue with me.” She stepped around and clutched my shoulders. I opened my eyes and found her glaring at me. “You’ve been hiding away long enough. It’s time to get out there and see what changes have gone on.”

  “I don’t know that I’m ready.”

  She gave me an indulgent smile. “You’ll never find out by locking yourself away in the house.” She brushed a hand over my forehead. “When’s the last time you saw the sun?”

  I did my best to give her a grin. “That big thing in the sky, made of fire and stuff? It’s bad for you.”

  She didn’t even crack a smile. “I’m serious. I’m worried about you.” She cocked her head and peered at me intently. “You haven’t been to dinner in months. We don’t talk unless I call you. Even Robert says he hasn’t heard from you lately. I’m not trying to make you feel bad, but I don’t want you avoiding your friends and family either.” She regarded me with curiosity. “Tell you what. Let me ask you a question, and if you can honestly answer me, then I’ll let it go. Okay?”

  Never bet against Mom. She always had something up her sleeve. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Tough. Indulge me.” She narrowed her gaze. “Can you tell me you’re happy?”

  What kind of stupid question was that? Of course I wasn’t happy. “No, Mom. I’m not happy. I wake up every morning to an empty house, go through my day without talking to anyone, and then at night I sleep on the couch because I can’t stand being in the bedroom.”

  “Then are you really doing what Brian wanted?”

  And if that wasn’t a hammer between the eyes, I didn’t know what was.

  “Go upstairs; get some sleep.”

  I got up and trudged up the stairs to the guest room. She was right. I was tired to my heart. Had been for years. Watching Brian grow more and more frail, seeing the body I’d loved wither from a disease I couldn’t fight. I’d tried so hard to be strong for Brian that I didn’t have any idea if I could stop fighting it now.

  I got to the room and lay on top of the comforter. I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to come, but like the last twelve months, it eluded me.

  I got up and took a seat at the desk. The old computer sitting there wasn’t good for much. I’d told Mom and Dad I’d get them a new one, but they insisted there wasn’t anything wrong with something that was heavy enough to be repurposed into a boat anchor.

  The thing creaked and whined as I powered it up. I fully expected that one day it would burst into flame, but hopefully not today. A few clicks brought up the browser, and a couple words in the search engine led me to the page I was looking for.

  AN HOUR later, and two hundred dollars poorer for putting down a deposit on what I wanted, I closed the browser. There was no way to know what Aiden would say when he saw the order for a custom stained-glass window emblazoned with a phoenix bursting from the ground. I knew exactly where I’d put it too. We had a sunroom on the back of the house, and I could fit it in place of one of the panels. If I liked it, I could see getting other creations to swap out the rest. How cool would it be to sit in the room, awash in the colors from Aiden’s work?

  I got up and stretched my back. I hadn’t told Mom, but I’d been seeing a grief therapist who had been saying pretty much the same things as everyone else: it’s good to grieve, but not to cut yourself off from the rest of the world. Every week she encouraged me to do one thing, just one, that would make me have to interact with someone else. I’d talked with Aiden and Noel at the diner, so surely that counted.

  A knock on the door startled me. After it opened, Robert stepped in and closed it behind him. He looked around the room, then went and sat in the chair I’d been in.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Mom called and said you were here. Since you haven’t been answering, I thought I’d stop over to see how you’re doing.”

  “I’m fine.” I wasn’t. “But thank you for asking.”

  He fixed me with a stare. “Okay, now that you’ve given me the bullshit answer, how are you really?”

  The fact that he knew me so well could be really tiresome at times. “Miserable. I did something today, and it’s screwing with my head.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Have I got a choice? Where’s Galen?”

  Robert shook his head. “Nice deflection. He’s downstairs with Mom and Dad. She’s teaching him how to make chili.”

  “How’s Galen doing with his father being disgraced in the media and pretty much everywhere else?”

  “We’re going to discuss this, you know. But I’ll answer you first. They’re still trying to get Galen to talk, but unless it’s through a lawyer, he says he has nothing to say. They’re up to thirty-five women who say Galen’s father sexually harassed them, and a few who said they had sex with him in exchange for a job he never provided.”

  “What a fucking scumbag.”

  Robert stretched out, his long legs taking up most of the small area. “Okay, enough. Let’s talk about the elephant in the room. What did you do that’s got you so worked up?” He and Galen ran a homeless shelter downtown. In his job, Robert’s been medic, cook, dishwasher, and, unfortunately, therapist.

  “I… forgot.”

  “Forgot?”

  I pursed my lips and waited for him to understand. When he opened his mouth in an O, th
en schooled his features, I knew he had.

  “And you think that’s a bad thing?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Isn’t it?”

  “No.” He came over and stood next to me, his hand on my arm. “You’re allowed to have other thoughts. No one grieves the same, Tom. What works for someone else wouldn’t be right for you. Time heals all wounds, they say. There’s nothing wrong with it, and you know as well as I do that Brian would agree.”

  “Everyone seems to know what Brian wants.” Was I bitter about that? Maybe a little. It wasn’t like he hadn’t told me constantly how he wanted me to move on, but he’d told everyone else too. I knew it was selfish, but… I wanted to keep that for me.

  “You think he didn’t tell us? That man insisted we watch out for you, and he gave me a death glare if I dared to question him.” Robert slid his hand down and gripped my wrist. “He loved you so much, he wanted what’s best for you, even if he couldn’t be the one to give it.”

  The tears started again. Fuck, it had been a year, and I was still a mess. Robert pulled me to him, and like a child, I clung to him.

  “I’m lost. I can hardly function. I don’t sleep, barely eat. I can’t even look at our bed because he’s not there. I keep expecting to find him in the kitchen when I go to get coffee. I was at his funeral. His urn is on the fireplace. And yet I still refuse to believe he’s dead.”

  “Have you thought about talking to someone?”

  I nodded. “I’ve been seeing her for a while. She keeps saying I need to take my time to process the grief but that I can’t shut down either.”

  He pulled back and smiled at me. “She sounds like a smart woman.” He stood up again. “Let me ask you something. Do you talk to him?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Have you tried talking to him?”

  Other than to curse him for dying on me? “Not really.”

  “Why not try that?” He grabbed my arm and pulled me up. “Do you have anything you didn’t say?”

  So many things. “Yeah.”

  “Then tell him.”

  “Why? It’s not like he’ll hear me.”

  Robert shrugged one shoulder. “You said you’re spiritual. What happens when a person dies?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Then how do you know he can’t hear you?” He went to the door, then turned around. “I still talk to Bree.”

  There was a strain to his voice. Bree had been one of his favorite people at the shelter, and when she died of an overdose, Robert probably would have sunk into a funk if Galen hadn’t been there for him.

  “And?”

  “I don’t do it when anyone else is around, but I have to admit, it does make me feel better. Will Brian hear you? Maybe. Maybe not. But you know him better than anyone alive. Do you think you don’t know what he’d say to you?”

  Mom called up the stairs. “My food’s getting cold, and I see two empty seats at my table. Galen helped me make chili, so get down here and try it!”

  Robert chuckled. “If we don’t go down, she’ll come up and get us.”

  I stood and started for the door, then stopped and turned around. “Thank you. I think maybe talking to you helped me.”

  “I’m glad. Now let’s go. I need to see if Galen will be making chili from now on.”

  Robert had been right about talking with Brian. Even if I wasn’t sure Brian would hear the words, I would.

  And maybe now I was finally willing to listen.

  Chapter Four

  WHEN I got home a couple days later, I made myself a cup of Brian’s favorite tea and took a seat on the couch in front of the fireplace. Though I’d buried his ashes in Yellowstone per his wishes, I kept the urn and put it in a place of honor. The deep blue branches with the pink cherry blossoms and the blue-and-white bird were a nod to his Asian heritage. The tag, which read Brian Jun Chen, was his effort to bridge the two parts of his life. He’d told me that he wished to have his given name displayed, because in death, he would no longer be ashamed of who he was.

  “You always did bring me a lot of tears. Some of joy, some of sorrow. You made me feel… alive. Meeting you was the day my life finally started to gel into something where I knew what I wanted. Maybe that’s why I feel so lost now.”

  Or maybe it’s because you won’t do what I said.

  I could hear his voice, clear as a bell, in my mind. I knew it wasn’t real, but Robert was right. I knew what Brian would say to me.

  “How can I give up on you? On us?”

  Because I’m not there to hold you when things get tough. Our marriage was a partnership. You were strong for me when I couldn’t be, and I was there for you when you needed someone to shoulder your worries. Your life is out of balance now, and you’re refusing to find it again.

  “Maybe I don’t want balance.”

  Then why did you look at Aiden the way you did? Why, for the first time since I died, did your heart beat just a little bit faster? Why did your stomach flutter when he smiled? And why would you feel guilty about it?

  I turned away, not able to look at the urn. “Because I was cheating on your memory.”

  His laugh, which had always been one of the things I loved best about him, rang through my head. You can’t cheat on a memory, Tommy. If my dog died, am I cheating on his memory by looking at another one? No, I’m building new memories.

  I growled deep in my throat. “You’re not a fucking dog.” Then I shook my head, wondering at the strange turn this conversation had taken.

  No, I’m not. But the concept is the same. If something dies, we mourn, but eventually we need to find a way to move on, because if we don’t, we run the risk of being mired in our past. That laugh again. Oh, wait. That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?

  “So tell me, then, wise one, what the hell should I do?”

  What has every person in your life been telling you? It’s okay to live. Don’t think of it as cheating on my memory. Think of it as experiencing all life has to offer for both of us. Look at other men, lust after them if you want. If sex is possible, then—

  “No!”

  Great. Now I was shouting to an empty room. The thought of sex with anyone who wasn’t Brian made my heart ache and my chest tight.

  Don’t interrupt when I’m talking to you. That was a bad habit you had, you know. If sex is possible, see where it’ll take you. I know you wouldn’t go into it just to get off. You’re the type of man who will give his heart before he’d even consider giving his dick.

  This time I laughed aloud, then wondered if I was going nuts, because the words, even though they were in Brian’s voice, were mine. I’d had passes made at me all my life, but never once, in all those years, did I entertain them, because who I was, what I’d become, that all belonged to Brian.

  “I’m scared.”

  Tell me why. Say it out loud, because you taught me words have power. If you’re going to hide them away, they’ll continue to keep you down.

  I pulled air into my lungs. I’d kept this secret from everyone—my parents, Robert, my therapist. And now he wanted me to say it?

  My hands trembled as I reached for the cup. A bit of tea sloshed over the sides when I went to take a sip.

  Hesitating isn’t going to make it easier. What are you afraid of?

  I dropped the cup and winced as it split into several pieces. I snapped my gaze to his urn.

  “Because you fucking left me!” Now the tears were coming all at once. “You swore to me when we got married that we’d always walk the path together. And then you went and fucking died, and now I’m too fucking scared to walk alone, because the farther down the path I go, the more I know I won’t be able to see you there anymore.”

  That’s not a bad thing, Tommy. And saying it will happen doesn’t make it so. Even if you can’t see me anymore, I’m always going to be on that path with you. Only this time, I get to watch as you run down it, free and happy. I know our friends always teased I was a bitchy queen when it came to you, a
nd they weren’t wrong. When we went out, I wanted the world to know you were mine. Now? I want the world to embrace you and pull you in again. You know it’s time, Tommy. Look at it this way. Do you think maybe the reason you’re trying so hard to hold on is that you know it’s time to let go?

  I think I’d known for a while that Brian was slipping away from me. Seeing Aiden’s smile, having my heart restarted, and now sitting here talking to my memories?

  Was I still afraid? Maybe, just a little bit. Was it okay to let go if it allowed me to move forward? I knew, all the way to the depths of my being, that was what Brian would tell me.

  Don’t be afraid to give your heart, Tommy. It’s the best part of you. I know because it was mine. And while I’ll never let it go, I’m willing to share it with someone who deserves a piece of it. You’ve put my body to rest, and now you can let my spirit sleep too.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks, but this time they were cathartic. All the anguish, the pain, the heartache that I’d held on to since Brian got sick started to break up. The black bits of anger that clung to my soul at being left behind finally began to recede.

  “I love you, Brian, but you’re right. I think I resented you for leaving me, and I was holding on to an anger I never admitted I felt. It wasn’t your choice, and it’s stupid of me to blame you for anything. I’m sorry.”

  That night, after scheduling an appointment with my therapist, I sat on the couch, clutching the urn to my chest that had held my beloved, and I remembered the good times and the reasons I’d loved Brian.

  And I said goodbye.

  TWO WEEKS later, feeling better than I had in well over a year, I was sitting out on the porch, sipping some lemonade after having mowed the lawn. God, Mom was right. I had let things go to hell. The grass was too high, the shrubs hadn’t been trimmed in the longest time, and the flowers that Brian had planted and nurtured with love—and more than a bit of cursing when the miniature roses he’d seen and fell in love with stubbornly refused to grow—had gone unweeded. After I’d pulled myself together, I tackled the projects one at a time, delighting in the restoration of our house and my life.