Page 15 of His to Cherish
Chapter 4
The end of the school year made kids restless. The warmer air brought with it the excitement of summer vacation and the end of homework, but this year that restlessness vibrated in the halls long before the time it usually did. I blamed the warm weather hitting sooner than normal, and the school being rocked by Derrick’s death.
Laughter returned to the air but it was more subdued.
I knew many of the kids missed Derrick—especially Shane.
He still came to my desk at lunch. For the first few weeks I didn’t make him speak, but that changed after the first month.
In fact, lots of things were changing. My chest felt a little bit lighter. My steps were a bit quicker than they’d been in a long time.
I didn’t like looking into it too much, but I knew part of the reason was Aidan.
He continued to stop by, though not often. Usually he brought food and we cooked dinner. The man could cook. And I meancook.Last week he’d introduced me to the deliciousness that was grilled octopus. I had screamed like a mouse had run across my foot when he held up the tentacled and dangly-looking thing.
He had shrugged and said, “Trust me.”
I did. And I ate every bite.
After dinner, we usually had a drink. Sometimes he stayed longer and we watched mind-numbing television.
The first time it happened, it was a Monday night, and when I asked him what he wanted to watch, all he said was “No football. No sports at all.”
He didn’t need to explain; I figured it was most likely something he and Derrick had done together. I could envision it in my head—guys sitting around, screaming at the television, talking about their favorite teams, their favorite players. Derrick had been a sports phenomenon.
When Aidan said it to me, I watched him squeeze his eyes closed and I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him, hold him close, and let him expel his grief all over my shoulder.
I didn’t, though, because that wasn’t what we did. I offered Aidan company when the silence became too heavy for him. I understood my role without him needing to explain it, even though I found myself wanting my role to change…to grow into something else…but I couldn’t force it.
I still wasn’t even sure it was the right thing to do.
So instead, I had grinned and held up the remote. “I can do no sports,” I said, and turned on HGTV. We spent the next three hours watching a marathon ofHouse Hunters,where couples were shown three houses and had to choose one.
His company was warm and inviting and his smiles began to come more frequently, even if they were still small and sad.
“Miss Dwyer?” Shane asked me, snapping me back to the present.
I wiped the swoony grin off my face. “Hmm?”
Sometimes Shane talked. He carried a heaviness that I didn’t know when he’d be able to unload, but when he spoke, it was always about Derrick. As if what we saw together that day bonded us and he knew he could talk about him to me.
I was happy to be there for him. Shane was a great kid. Every time I saw him now, he was alone, like he didn’t think he could have his other friends because he’d lost one. In part, I didn’t blame the protective barrier he’d placed around himself, yet my heart hurt for him when I saw him walking down the halls, always at the back of the group of his friends. A month ago, he would have been in the center of the huddle, cracking jokes and trading shoulder slaps.
Shane’s lips twisted and I saw his chin wobble. “My mom said she saw Mr. Devereaux’s truck at your place the other night.”
I frowned. “Yeah?”
He nodded and his eyes began to water. “How…how is he?”
My eyes burned instantly and I reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me, his chin shaking as tears began to fall. He looked away from me and wiped them away.
“He’s sad, Shane. Really sad.”
He nodded as if he expected my answer.
“You guys will be okay, though, eventually. It will be a different kind of okay than before, but someday, you’ll be okay.”
I squeezed his shoulder to reassure him even though I felt full of crap. I wasn’t a psychologist and I wasn’t equipped to answer these things.
