Broken Knight

by Shen, L. J.

  I’ve lived a full life.

  A beautiful life.

  I wouldn’t take anything back. If I could do one more thing before I left this earth, it would be to give—give my loved ones a piece of advice, my love, and my approval.

  Now I was living the picture as I’d imagined it in my mind, every day since I was a little girl and found out I wouldn’t live to ripe old age, that I would probably never see myself with completely gray hair, deep-set wrinkles, and surrounded by beautiful grandchildren. The gown was beautiful, comfortable, and angelic. I lay on top of my bed, dizzy, but smiling nonetheless, as I hugged my sister Emilia.

  She stood up from my bed, wiping her eyes. “Who do you want to see first?”

  “Levy.”

  When my young son entered my room, the first thing I noticed was how not completely young he was anymore. Of course, I’d seen him every day, save for the week I’d been in a coma. But he seemed to have gotten tall almost overnight. He was lanky now, his jaw squarer, his eyes less wide and exploring, more suspicious and slanted. He was going to be a gorgeous man one day, and I absolutely refused to be upset over the fact that I wasn’t going to know what he would look like. Or over the nagging, eternal question of whether he was going to be with Bailey or not. I couldn’t allow my thoughts to roam this way. I had to keep them on what was important. I patted the space next to me with a smile.

  “H-how are you feeling, Mom?” He glanced at me from under his lashes.

  He had great lashes. Like mine. I smiled at the fact I was going to stay on this earth forever. Through him. Through Knight. Through my husband.

  “Good. You?”

  “Yeah. Good.”

  “Liar.”

  He looked down, shooting a small smile.

  “Break for me, Levy. I want to hug away your pain.”

  That’s what we did for the next half hour. I just held him while he sobbed. I asked him to understand that even after I was gone, I still loved him, fiercely. Begged him not to feel the betrayal that can accompany the loss of a parent, to know that no part of me wanted to leave him and his brother and father behind. That I’d lived, breathed, and thrived because they were with me. That I’d fought for every day, until I couldn’t anymore, because they were worth the struggle.

  When Lev ran out of tears, and I ran out of strength, I let him nap on my chest peacefully, ignoring the dull pain and how badly it hurt when I was hooked up to so many machines, my lungs collapsing by the nanosecond.

  When he stirred some time later, looked up and saw that I’d been watching him the whole time, he smiled. It was as though he needed this reassurance that I truly loved him. That I genuinely cared.

  “Who do you want to see next?”

  “Your brother, please.” I smiled.

  Lev nodded.

  When Knight entered the room and closed the door behind him, I motioned to him with my finger.

  “Your breath. Let me smell it.”

  “Mom.” He rolled his eyes.

  He was so tall. So gorgeous. Such a heartbreaker. Yet his heart was so loyal. The rest of him, too. I was in awe of how good he was. How pure. The only thing I worried about was how he dealt with pain. I didn’t want him to run to alcohol and drugs. I saw what it had done to Dean when we were younger. Knight’s soul was much too precious, his heart too tender to deal with heartbreak. Just like his dad.

  “Come on. You know as well as I do you will never deprive your dying mother of anything.”

  With a harsh exhale, he walked over to me, put his mouth to my nose. He smelled of mint gum, and underneath it, iced coffee. I immediately knew he was sober.

  “Thank you.” I grinned.

  Instead of pulling away, he put his lips to the tip of my nose, awarding me a kiss.

  “How are you, Mom?”

  “Better than I look.”

  “You look perfect.”

  “You’re just being nice.”

  He pulled back, giving me a really? look. “Being nice is not even in my dictionary.”

  “Probably because you used the page to roll yourself a joint. How’s your girlfriend?” I tried to elbow him good-naturedly in the ribs as he sat down beside me.

  By the dark cloud passing over his expression, I could see something was going on.

  “She dumped me.”

  “She did?” I asked cheerfully, not missing a beat.

  Luna, Luna. Thank you, Luna.

  He nodded, giving me a quizzical look before shaking his head. “It’s stupid. This is not what we should be talking about right now.”

  “What should we be talking about right now?” I arched a playful eyebrow. I didn’t want this to be heavy and sad.

  He looked out the window, shaking his head. “I don’t know. About you?”

  “We know everything there is to know about me. I’m the least interesting subject in this household, and the most depressing one, too.”

  “How can you be so calm about this?” He scratched at his jaw, the fine whiskers growing over it light brown dustings.

  “First of all, this is not without hard work, trust me.” I winked. “And second of all, I have faith in my plans for the three of you. I just need you to promise me one little thing.”

  “Okay.” He sat up straight, eyeing me curiously.

  I put my hand on his. “You stopped drinking.”

  “I did.”

  “You stopped with the pills, too.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you’re going to the counselor Dad found for you?”

  “Like clockwork,” he gritted out.

  “She will never be yours if you go back to the way it was.”

  “I know.” His voice broke. “I know that, Mom. I know.”

  “Promise me, then.”

  “I promise. No more binging. No more benders. No more alcohol and pills. I won’t even take a Tylenol next time I’m sick.”

  Silence. I had to tread carefully around this one. I didn’t want him suspecting anything, didn’t want this part of the conversation to tarnish everything else we’d said. I knew he’d forgive me in time, down the line. But not now. And I couldn’t burden him with more anger and disappointment for a second as long as I had my breath in me.

  “Can I give you one other piece of advice?”

  “Of course, Mom.”

  “The grudges you hold against people? Drop them. They’re not worth your anger. They keep you anchored to a place you shouldn’t be.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “No, I can’t. But I can tell you one last thing.”

  “Okay.”

  I took his hand. Put the back of it against my lips. Smiled through my tears. “Parents are not supposed to have favorites,” I started.

  I knew my confession wasn’t going to leave the walls of this room. Knight loved Lev with everything he had in him. He was a wonderful brother who’d volunteered to teach Levy’s entire football team. He’d covered for Lev dozens of times when he’d sneaked into Bailey’s house, and vice versa.

  “But I do, Knight. I have a favorite. I love you so brutally, sometimes I’d lay awake at night wondering if you were the thing that kept me going when I couldn’t do it anymore. When the pain was too much. I don’t want you to ever feel you were less.”

  “I never felt that way.” He smiled calmly, cupping my cheeks and staring deep into my eyes. “I never felt like I didn’t belong. Not even for a hot second. I always knew you were my home. I’m just worried about what being homeless will do to me.”

  “You will never be homeless, my darling boy. You will always have a home. I will be with you, even after I draw my last breath. Remember, my love. The sun will rise tomorrow. It always does. And don’t you dare live one day of your life without basking in its glory. If you truly love me, you will respect my legacy. You will wake up tomorrow morning. You will grieve the loss of me. But, with time, you will smile. You will laugh. You will live. You will push through and conquer your desires. You’
ll get your girl back, because she loves you, and you love her, and I’ve seen you from childhood—you were born for each other. You will give me beautiful grandchildren, whom I will watch over from heaven. And every summer rain, you will know it’s me, saying I love you.”

  “Mom. Mom. Mom.” He buried his head in my chest, wrapping his huge arms around me. “I’m not ready to let go.”

  “Go and save your princess, my love.” I kissed his forehead. “She is waiting. Besides, that’s what knights do.”

  It was when my husband entered our room that I finally broke down.

  I was exhausted from being strong. Strong for Emilia. For Lev. For Knight. I knew Dean was in a state no less upset than they were, but with one distinguished difference: he had always been my protector. He’d always had my back. It was inspiring to watch as he’d fought with doctors, sought out specialists from all over the world, and turned every rock, checked every corner, until we’d exhausted our options on how to fight my disease.

  Now, I was the one in his arms. Lying against his chest. I sobbed into my husband’s black polo shirt, clutching its collar, letting the moans roll out of my throat. The truth was, I was frightened and confused. One moment, I had managed to be calm and reasonable—logical, even. I wasn’t going to feel anything. I was simply going to cease to exist. Just like any other human in the history of this planet. Dead, alive, or destined to live. Simple as that. Other moments, I was panicking, struggling to breathe. The whole room felt like it was closing in on me. I was trapped inside my body, wanting to leap out with my breath still in me and run from it. From cystic fibrosis.

  “I’m scared,” I cried into Dean’s chest. Because I was. God, I was frightened.

  He stroked my hair and kissed the crown of my head. “Don’t be scared, my love. I promise I will watch over you, even when you’re there and I’m here. I promise this is not the end. I promise to come look for you in heaven. And if I’m destined to go the other way, I assure you, I’ll find someone to bribe so we can be roommates in hell.”

  I broke out in relieved laughter, shaking against his body.

  He pulled away, showing me his brave, glorious smile—all straight, white teeth. Then he pulled me into a bone-crushing hug again.

  “Not only will you not get rid of me, Mrs. Leblanc-Cole, but I also promise I will make sure our sons grow up to be decent men, with big families. They will be happy and healthy. Even if it’s the last thing I ever do, I’ll make sure of it. I also promise to come to you every single month, twelve months a year, and show you pictures, give you letters, and keep you updated.”

  “Once a year will do.” I grinned. “But if you slack, I will haunt you from there, wherever it is.”

  “Once a month.” He shook his head, correcting. “We need a monthly date, to keep the flame alive and all.” He winked.

  This reminded me of something I absolutely had to tell him, something I knew he didn’t want to hear, especially right now.

  I put my hand on his chest. “My love?”

  “Yes, Baby Leblanc?”

  “Can you promise me something?”

  “Anything.”

  “I know I’m the love of your life. I feel very secure in this position. No one will ever take it away from me. I gave you two beautiful sons. I gave you a life worth living. I helped you overcome your addiction. No one will ever be able to replace me—”

  “So don’t ask to be replaced,” my husband cut me off, a jolt of chill twinging his otherwise soft voice.

  I felt his chest flexing and stiffening under my fingers.

  “And yet…” I raised my voice an octave. “I forbid you to spend the rest of your life miserable and alone. I refuse to shoulder this responsibility. You’re young, gorgeous, and amazing. You will need some help with the boys. You will find someone else. Promise me that.”

  “No.”

  “Dean.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t promise you I’ll let anyone else in. I’m all out of heart space. It’s you and the kids. Just because you’re about to leave doesn’t mean you’ll leave here.” He pounded his fist to his chest. “You think I didn’t know this was a possibility?” He motioned between us, his voice steady. “I knew. I knew this could happen. And I still fought to be with you. I’m at peace with that, Baby Leblanc.”

  “I have a plan,” I whispered, but he kissed me halfway through my sentence, brushing a lock of hair from my eye. Our faces were so close, it was easy to memorize every curve of his beautiful face. For a moment, we just breathed each other in, as we’d done the first time we met, inking one another into memory.

  “Will you do me one honor?” I asked.

  “Anything,” he said again, which I now knew wasn’t necessarily true.

  “Would you please let me die in your arms, alone, just the two of us?”

  He crawled into bed with me and settled behind me, sprawling me out against him as he wrapped his arms around me possessively. We stared at the door. Breathing. Waiting. Digesting.

  He kissed my ear, trailing the kisses down my neck.

  “Ride or die,” he whispered.

  “Ride.” I closed my eyes, smiling. “Always ride.”

  “Talk about fucking awkward.” I unbuttoned my Armani suit jacket, flapping it back to take a seat on the first pew overlooking my wife’s open casket.

  For the first second, I waited for her to scold me for dropping the F-bomb, and then reality came crashing in.

  Knight scooted away from Lev to make room for me between them. He glared forward, not taking the bait.

  “We’re wearing the same outfit,” I explained, resisting the urge to put the final nail in my nonchalance coffin and nudge his shoulder.

  Said outfit was black cigar pants, black loafers, and a black button-down shirt, complete with the black blazer Rosie was fond of. Normal attire for a funeral, especially your own wife’s, but I needed to break the ice with my son.

  I’d thrown every single negative thought that had crossed my mind about him at his feet. I’d been wrapped up in Rosie’s coma, mentally climbing the walls of my sanity. And when I finally did talk to him, it was to force him to go to a counselor for his addiction. He needed more than to be bossed around. He needed a father.

  Knight stared ahead at the elaborate stainless steel casket, his expression as flat and dead as Vaughn’s. This wasn’t my son. My son was an expressive, lively motherfucker with a sense of humor and natural charm. He was nothing like his sulky-ass best friend.

  “Devastated,” he finally drawled when he realized I wasn’t going to look away until he gave me an answer.

  “As you should be,” I murmured.

  “As I fucking am.”

  “Language,” I sparred.

  “Please, Dean. You use the F-word more than any other word in the dictionary.”

  Dean.

  He’d called me Dean.

  “I can’t believe you’re talking about suits right now,” Lev gritted out, wringing his hands together, almost as if trying to rid himself of his own flesh.

  He wouldn’t look at the coffin. Only his hands. I couldn’t blame him.

  “We’re not talking about suits,” Knight and I said in unison, which made us glance at each other.

  The only time we’d caught each other’s eyes since he’d walked in on me going down on Rosie all those weeks ago.

  The realization nearly skinned me alive.

  I hadn’t talked to my elder son in months.

  I’d been too busy grieving a wife who hadn’t even been dead, mourning her loss instead of enjoying her presence, enjoying our family while I still could.

  Rosie. Rosie. Rosie.

  I looked around at the two front pews of the church, which were filled with our friends and family. My wife had taken her last breath in my arms three days after she woke up from her chemically induced coma. My brave Rosie had hung on to her life longer than the doctors predicted, because she wanted to say goodbye to all of us. I’d been selfishly hoping she’d
go in her sleep, that her heavy breaths would turn into shallow ones, then to no breaths at all. But she’d been awake, still squeezing my hand with whatever strength she had left. Her last words would forever remain carved on my heart.

  “The sun will shine tomorrow, my love. I know.”

  “Because it must?” I’d asked her.

  “Because it was the first thing Luna ever signed to me. When I did her braids sixteen years ago, I asked her if she was sad about her mother. She signed that it didn’t matter. That the sun would always see her to another day. And you know what? It did. Smart girl.”

  “She is,” I’d said.

  “Thank you.” My wife had smiled up at me. “For this life.”

  “Thank you,” I’d answered. “For making me worthy of giving it to you.”

  I’d promised her I’d be strong, and I was going to be.

  For her.

  For me.

  For them.

  No more bullshit, half-assed dad. I’d been stuck in my own little Rosie-colored universe for far too long.

  “Let me smell your breath.” I clapped a hand on Knight’s shoulder.

  He turned and gave me a death glare, arsenic dripping from his pupils.

  “Playing dad for the duration of the funeral?” He smiled tightly.

  “I am your dad.”

  “Whatever you say, big guy.”

  He was bigger than me, and he knew it. Little fucker.

  “Open your mouth.”

  “Sell it to me, Dean.”

  “Are you serious?” I felt a tick in my eyelid. “Do it, mister. Now.”

  “Or what?” he pressed.

  “Or I’ll open it for you, and that’ll be the only damn thing people remember about your mother’s funeral.”

  When he made no move, I stood up. I really didn’t give a fuck about making a spectacle, and I think he knew it, because we were the exact same person. He was my mini-me, much more than sensitive, kind-hearted Lev was.

  Knight tugged me down by the hem of my blazer.

  “Christ,” he mumbled. He opened his mouth, still staring at me hard and defiantly.