“You and me both,” shelaughed.
The laughter dissipatedas quickly as it hadarrivedand we sat in silenceagain. Staring ahead at the commercials for coffee and fast food restaurants,while my mind struggled to capture the information. I wanted conversation, butI refused to take the leap. I would welcome it if it came, but I could settlefor loneliness, too.
Tess couldn’t.
“So, how did your firstband practice go?”
I laughed at theabsurdity. Band practice. Me. “It wasgreat, actually. I had a really good time.”
“You made beautifulmusic together?”
“Yeah, we really did.”
“I told you that you hadnothing to worry about,” she reminded me, twisting to face me.
Shifting on the couch,I turned as well. “Was your Grandma mad that you left?”
Tess laughed with anincredulous shake of her head. “She’s mad at me about everything.” The dulledglimmer of defeat darkened the brightness of her eyes and I allowed my sympathyto show.
“She’s not mad atyou,” I told her with certainty.
She snorted,incredulous. “Yes, Jon. She is. She was mad at my dad, and now she’s mad atme.”
“No, Tess,” I repliedwith exasperation, shaking my head and looking deeply into her eyes. “She’s madthat she’sold. She’s mad that shecan’t do the things that she used to love doing. She’s mad that she needs helpand doesn’t want to ask for it. She’s mad that she’sdying, she’s mad atlife,but she’s definitely not mad atyou.”
Her eyes shifted awayfrom mine, to focus on the rolled seam along the back of the couch. Thestiffness of her jaw, the pinch of her lips, and the rapid blink of hereyes—I’d recognize those signs anywhere. They’d been my defense against thepain for the past almost-three years, and as she swallowed repeatedly,straining her throat, I recognized the crumbling of her walls.
“Hey.” I reachedforward, snagging her wrist in my grasp. I pulled her attention back to me andwitnessed the flooding of her eyes. “You can talk to me.”
“I know you’re right,”she whispered around the emotion clotting her throat. “I just feel like itmakes it worse.”
Tipping my head, I asked,“How do you figure?”
Sniffling back the tears,she shrugged. “I could fix it if she was mad at something Idid, like if she didn’t like my cookingor the way I cleaned. But I can’t hit rewind on her life or stop time frommoving. I can’t fixthis.”
Tess gently tugged herwrist from my grasp, pulling until her palm pressed against mine and herfingers curled, clasping and holding on. I didn’t pull away. I didn’t want to.Because here, in a basement that wasn’t mine without any pictures of my past tohaunt and watch my every move, I felt free. Free of her,free of you, and I imagined I could feel every creak, every pop ofmy joints, as my fingers bent to hold right back.
“It’s not your job tofix her. It’s your job just to be there for her.”
“She doesn’t want methere,” Tess whispered, her eyes locked on our joined hands.
“I know it might notseem like it,” I replied, “but I promise you, she does.”
I wasn’t there for Bethand I would carry that guilt forever. Nobody deserved that heavy burden, let alonesomeone with a big personality and an even bigger heart. Not someone who couldfind room in her life for a sad, bitter man and his three happy girls.
Tess shook her head anda smile somehow touched the tears in her eyes. “You didn’t kill your wife, Jon.”
The comment was abrupt,and felt like a verbal bomb being dropped, and I blinked, startled and shaken.Yet I still didn’t pull away from her grasp on my hand, mine on hers.
“I know,” I said, myvoice gruff, my expression firm and unrelenting.
“Then, why would yousay something like that?”
My jaw worked and myteeth ground together. I shook my head and chewed my lip and said, “Becausesaying that is easier than admitting there wasnothingI could do to save her.”
She nodded and releasedmy hand from her grip. I was reluctant in letting go, but I did. I sat still asshe pushed forward, arms extended before they suddenly wrapped around my neck,and then I was breathing her in. Flowers and marshmallows, pretty and sweet.With her chin nestled against my shoulder, her cheek pressed to mine, I wrappedmy arms around her and welcomed the comfort of having her body against mine.
After Beth had passedaway, I did wonder about this. Whether I’d ever find solace in the embrace ofanother woman. And if I did, would the world evaporate beneath my feet, to sendme spiraling through the nothingness I felt. I’d always shooed the thoughtaway, with every reminder that I would forever be tethered to the woman I knewas my soulmate. That there wasn’t room in my pained heart for anybody else.There would never be room for anybody else.
