by W E DeVore
When the five Bordelon children were growing up, they’d each been tasked with creating a new ornament every holiday season. Ben’s mother finally had to give up the tradition when the youngest, Grace, was fourteen, having long since run out of room for the collection on any normal-sized tree.
Yvie and Josh gestured for Q and Sanger to join them where they sat on the floor between the couch and the recliner. As Lila resumed her seat in the recliner, Sanger helped Q to sit on the floor. The damp weather had been making her leg ache for days and she’d been struggling to get it to move the way it should.
Q let out a loud sigh as she reached the floor and the mounting pain abruptly dispersed.
“What’s with the maman groan?” Josh asked her.
She laughed. “It’s the damp weather. Making me all creaky.”
Lila squeezed Q’s shoulder from behind and leaned forward. “Me, too, darlin’.”
When Sanger sat beside Q, Lila leaned down and placed an affectionate kiss on the top of his head. As the round of Trivial Pursuit continued, Q twisted uncomfortably, wishing she had something to lean on, but not wanting to call attention to herself. For once, the Bordelons were focused on something besides Ben and her, and she was glad to be ignored.
She grunted under her breath and Sanger gave her a concerned glance. He mutely moved closer and put his arm around her hips, gently pulling her towards him until her back rested against his torso. He kissed her temple and whispered, “Better, old woman?”
Q exhaled in pleasure. “So much.”
She felt soft fingers on her cheek and she looked up at her mother-in-law. “It’s good to see you again, darlin’.”
Tears flooded Q’s eyes and she quickly nodded.
“It’s good to be seen,” she whispered.
◆◆◆
It was nearing midnight. A familiar weariness had settled over Q and she slipped away from the family, wandering into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. Taking her wine, she returned to the empty living room, listening to the sounds of jovial conversation filling the house from every direction. She’d been intentionally ignoring the mantle over the fireplace all night and it called to her now, drawing her to it. Votive candles flickered around a picture of Ben that Grace had taken the previous spring. He was outside. The greenery behind him a blur of life. Q reached her fingers up to trace his smile.
“Sorry, no Hannumas party this year. I just couldn’t do it.” It had been a tradition. Every year they’d thrown a combined Hannukkah and Christmas party at the Cove with one of the local Klezmer bands officiating. Q realized that this was the first year in seven that they’d all forgotten. “I miss you, sweet husband.”
She forced herself to look at the picture beside Ben’s. Jasper in the NICU. So small. So frail. And so impossibly beautiful. She fondled the glass with her fingertips.
“You, too, Little Bit.”
At least five people simultaneously shouted her name and she turned to see most of the family moving into the dining room across the hall to surround the spinet piano tucked into the corner. Q sipped her wine, fighting against the tears that were rising to the surface, trying not to collapse to her knees.
Christmas carols. Just go play the fucking Christmas carols and you can go home.
Managing a wan smile, she pushed through the mayhem to take a seat at the piano. But when she sat on the bench and looked at the sheet music that had been laid out for her to play, her left hand began to tremble uncontrollably.
“It’s Ben’s favorite,” she heard Grace say behind her. Q turned to find dozens of expectant eyes.
Ben’s older sister, Danny, said, “We always had to start with ‘Holly Jolly Christmas.’ When we were little he’d scream, ‘howly jowly howly jowly.’”
Q’s stomach flooded with nausea and her temples grew hot, listening to every member of Ben’s family continue Danny’s line of thought. A panic attack burst through her brain and she fought to push it back down. She finally lost the battle and stood up, escaping the room for the safety of the back porch before she yelled at them all to shut the hell up.
The cold night air tamped down the flames of panic that were burning her from the inside out and a sob broke loose. She held on to the railing for support and steadied her breathing. The screen door opened behind her and Sanger came to her side.
“Are you ok?” he asked, concern adding an urgency to his tone.
She nodded and wrapped her arms around herself to fight off the damp night chill. He took off his suit coat and put it around her shoulders.
“You’re going to get pneumonia,” he said, pulling the front of the coat closed, closing it tightly around her.
She slid her arms into the sleeves and shivered into the lingering warmth, hugging her arms around her torso and stamping her open-toed shoes.
“So are you,” she replied. “Sorry. I hate it when they do this. Talk about Ben like he’s still here. I know it helps them. But it’s too damn much, sometimes. It’s like having an open casket just sitting there in the middle of the room.”
Sanger was quiet. He studied the dark clouds overhead. “You don’t have to forget him to let him go.”
“Well, that is clear as mud, Aaron,” she said, annoyed.
He swallowed deliberately, continuing to stare up at the night sky. “Your memories are real, Clementine. Ben was real and he loved you. You loved him. You should remember that. Hold on to that. But you can still move on. You can still let him go.”
“The days when I forget him are easier.”
He pulled her closer. “No, they just make the days when you remember him harder. Tell me a story.”
“Like what?”
“Tell me about the first time he told he loved you.”
She gave him a sheepish grin. “I don’t think it was me that he was really in love with the first time he said that.”
Sanger laughed. “Damnit, I walked right into it,” he said, guiding them to the porch swing to sit down. “Maybe in that moment, he knew all that he needed to know.”
“No, Aaron, I know the exact moment Ben fell in love with me. The real me,” she explained, leaning against him for warmth.
He put his arm around her. “So, when was it? Tell me.”
“Not much to tell, really,” she said. “It was a few days before the ‘best Lundi Gras ever’ and I had the pleasure of meeting one Detective Aaron Sanger,” she nudged him before continuing. “He woke up before me. When I walked into the kitchen, he was texting someone and drinking his coffee. I said something like ‘good morning, handsome’ and when he looked up from his phone, I saw that switch get flipped. Right then. One minute, he liked me an awful lot. The next, he loved me. Just like that.”
Sanger glanced down at her and she sighed, feeling the pain that had filled her earlier numb and dissipate.
“He had a look. And he only had it when he was thinking about how much he loved me.” She smiled at the memory, looping her arm through Sanger’s and shivering. “Fuck, it’s cold.” She leaned closer to him. “Anyway, he spent the next couple days wearing that look and those words were right there, just begging to be said. That night, at the Cove, when we found that poor woman dead, he kept trying to tell me all night. And I knew it. After we left, we had this huge fight because I’d helped Pete lie to Ernst and you, and made Ben lie, too. And I told him about my rape and how Pete had saved me, and I’d never told anyone. I’d break up with someone rather than tell them, but I knew he loved me and I wanted him to know me. All of me. The real me. We were in the kitchen and he was kneeling in front of me and I asked him what he’d been trying to tell me all night. And he said, ‘I love you.’ Just like that. Just ‘I love you.’”
“What did you say?” he asked.
“He tried to give me an out. He said something like ‘do you think you could love me?’ and I said ‘I can and I do.’ I can and I do.” She exhaled and brushed away the dampness on her cheek. “I miss that look.”
“It’s a goo
d story.”
She turned to face him and rested her forehead against his. And then she saw it. The way his eyes tracked her face and she wondered how she’d missed it before. A look that was only hers. A light that only came on for her in his eyes. Her lips began to burn and she moved closer to him. Sanger’s hands moved to her face and he whispered her name. She traced his lips with her thumb, her pulse pounding in her throat, the heat of his body making her mouth dry.
The screen door slammed open and Grace came out onto the porch. Q quickly moved away from Sanger, biting the tip of the guilty finger that had just caressed his lower lip, tasting it with a flick of her tongue.
Grace looked from Q to Sanger, glaring at the latter. “You ok, Q?”
“Sure, Gracie. I’m fine. Just, you know… too much Ben for a minute.”
Grace scowled at Sanger. “Oh, forgive me, for talking about my dead brother at Christmas in front of your new lover. How impolite of me.”
Q was taken aback and she stood up, putting her hands on her hips. “What in the good fuck are you talking about?”
Grace mimicked her posture. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Yvie says you’re living with him.”
“I’m staying at his house,” Q stuttered, unsure of what she’d done to enrage Ben’s youngest sister.
“You’re fucking around on my brother, is what you’re doing. Probably easier now that he’s dead, though, right? You can fuck Derek Sharp and Aaron Sanger and that drummer chick from Dark Harm and not have to worry about your husband finding out.”
Q clenched her teeth and balled her fists. “I’m going to give you a pass. One. Because I love you and Ben wouldn’t want me to murder his baby sister.”
“Don’t you fucking say his name,” Grace hissed. “I’ve been nice all night, for Mama. But I saw those pictures and I know you did.”
After the party in October, Derek had posted several pictures to Instagram featuring Q and Fiona dancing their way to sextown, as well as one that Jesse had taken with Q’s hand very visibly resting on Derek’s crotch. At the time, Q hadn’t thought anything of it. It was good promotion for the album. Just photos of another wild Dark Harm party and possibly a good way to make Burn Bitch Burn retreat to their crazy corner. She’d never considered what seeing images like that would do to Ben’s family.
“It’s not what you think, Grace,” she explained. “It was just a party…”
“I don’t give a good goddamn,” Grace interrupted. “He was my brother.”
The righteous anger that she wanted to feel wouldn’t cooperate and she gave Grace a sad smile. “I know, Gracie May.”
Grace covered her face and began to sob. Q moved to pull her into an embrace, but her sister-in-law pushed her away. “Don’t touch me, you fucking whore.”
Q’s jaw fell open and she stared at her sister-in-law in wild disbelief. She didn’t know what to say so she went inside the house, slamming the door behind her. Walking to the counter to fix herself a drink, she heard raised voices and saw Sanger arguing with Grace on the other side of the window. Lila soon joined her, pouring her own drink.
“What’s that about?” her mother-in-law asked.
“Most likely me. Grace just read me the riot act. Called me a whore. Thinks I’m fucking around on Ben...”
“Well, good,” Lila replied. “That means he’s still alive and this whole being murdered thing is an elaborate prank.” She sipped her drink. “Of course, joke’s on him, because I’ll kill him dead for doing this to all of us.”
Q laughed out loud. “I wish it were so. But I don’t think it is a prank, Mama.” She drained her drink and poured another.
“I’m sorry, if us remembering him makes it harder on you.”
“No, you’re right to do it. Aaron just made me tell him a story and it didn’t hurt. It felt good.” She looked at her mother-in-law. “Did Ben ever tell you what he did when I told him about the rape?”
Lila shook her head.
“He cried. He just stood there and cried and let me tell him all of it. Then he told me he loved me and it was like that darkness got cracked and he was this light shining through it.” She hugged her mother-in-law. “You raised a good man, Ma. I need you to know that.”
“Thank you.” Lila patted her back and moved away from Q to dry her eyes on a tea towel. She tilted her head towards Aaron through the window. “Looks like you found yourself another one.”
“It’s not like that, Mama. It never was.”
“Doesn’t seem that way to me. You know, he’s the one that told us, right?”
Q felt her body tremble and she shook her head. Lila took the glass from her hand and refilled it. Handing it back to her, she said, “He’s a good man, Q. I don’t think that even you know how good he is.”
“What happened?”
Lila poured her own drink and took a swallow. “He called Yvie first and told her to meet him at the hospital, told her to get me and Daddy. Wouldn’t tell her why. Just that something bad had happened to you and to Ben. When we showed up, he held my hand and said, ‘Your son’s been shot. He didn’t make it.’ Said how sorry he was. He was so calm. So strong. But when Daddy asked about you, he just broke.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Daddy asked, ‘what about Q, Aaron. Is she ok?’ And Aaron started to shake all over and he folded his arms around himself like he was trying to hold himself together but just couldn’t. He starting sobbing, saying that your heart had stopped and you were in surgery and they didn’t know if you were going to live. It was like something inside of him just shattered.”
“Why are you telling me this, Mama?”
“We all came and waited for you. Constance, Ernst, and Mavis were there, too. I went to the NICU to be with Jasper. When I came back to check on you, Aaron was sitting all by himself away from everybody, rocking back and forth, whispering words that none of us understood. Your grandmother finally went over to talk to him. He didn’t even seem to know she was there. She said he was speaking Hebrew, saying the same prayer over and over. Asking God to heal you. Begging Him not to take you away.”
Lila studied Q’s reaction before reaching out to cup her cheek, holding her gaze. “You listen to me, Q. You’ve had enough sadness for twenty lifetimes. Don’t let any little bit of happiness get away from you. That man out there, he loves you. Maybe even more than my son did, if that’s even possible. You hold onto that. Don’t take it for granted. He sat by your side while you were in a coma. He wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t eat. He wouldn’t sleep. He just held your hand, praying, whispering those same words again and again. I know real love when I see it. Don’t throw that away.”
“But it’s cheating, isn’t it?” Q asked. “It’s only been six months. Grace is right. What will people think?”
“That you’re alive, my sweet girl, and being loved is part of what makes life so much fun. And that’s what Ben wanted. He’d want you to be happy. You could do a lot worse than Aaron Sanger. He’s a good man. You’re good together. When you’re ready, I’d give him a chance, if I were you. And stop worrying about what people will think. This happened to you, nobody else. You do what you need to do to come out on the other side of it.”
“But Gracie…”
As if on cue, Grace stormed back into the house and yelled at her mother. “If he’s welcome here, then I’m leaving.”
Lila raised her glass to her daughter. “That’s your choice, darlin’. If you’re leaving, have a Merry Christmas, my sweet girl. Will we see you at mass in the morning?”
Grace yelled in aggravation and stalked towards the front of the house. Sanger walked back in. “I’m really sorry, Mrs. Bordelon. I should have left well enough alone. I tried to explain, but she didn’t want to listen….”
Lila waved her hand dismissively. “Aaron, darlin’, believe me when I tell you it’s not a holiday around here until two of the kids get into an argument over something stupid. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas wit
hout it.” She walked over and hugged him. “Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”
Sanger’s eyes found Q and she saw it again. A look that was only hers. She quickly turned away and moved to the sink to wash some dishes. A swarm of nervous butterflies flooded her stomach. She glanced over to see Sanger and Lila sit down at the table to play a game of cards. He was still watching her. She returned to her cleaning, wondering how she couldn’t have seen it before.
As she regarded her best friend and he smiled up at her from behind his cards, she grinned back at him.