My youngest, Annabel,stomped her foot. “I can’t!”
With another sigh, Iturned to Lilly. “Will you help Annabel get her jammies on, please?”
“Uh-huh,” my oldestmuttered, taking her littlest sister’s hand, and together the three went totheir room.
When I looked back tomy mother, I found her heading into the kitchen.
“So, how was work?” sheasked.
“Same thing, differentnight,” I muttered with a shrug. And why I felt the need to keep talking, Idon’t know. “Actually, this girl was at the club earlier. Shelly really likedher, so Jeff offered her a job to babysit.”
My mom turned herinquisitive expression on me. “Huh?”
I dusted a hand over myhair, back and forth, before speaking again. “It’s crazy, right? He’s out ofhis mind.”
She cocked her head, acurious flicker dancing in her gaze. “Why is that crazy?”
My mouth fell open withthe intent to tell her exactly why it was insane, and exactly why my brotherwas a jerk for saying anything to that woman. But I shut it immediately,suddenly feeling as though every reason I had was nothing more than a scapegoat,inadequate and stupid.
Mom studied me, pursingher lips and squinting her eyes, while her fingers dug into her hips. “Is itthe money? Because, like I said, if you ever need help, you justhave toask. You know your father and I are more than—”
“It’s not that.”
I dropped my gaze fromhers to the floor. In a split second, I couldn’t stand the way she was lookingat me. That knowing, dull glint in her eye. The sorrow she didn’t bother hidingin the lines creasing around her frown. Beth had been as much her family as shewas mine, and the weight of her loss was one we all carried.
The burden was justheavier for me.
“Change isn’t a badthing, honey.” Her voice was gentle, coddling and full of sympathy.
Finding the strength tolook back at her with a smirk, I grunted my response, unsure of what else Icould say.
With a shake of herhead, Mom pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. “Jonathan, I would doabsolutely anything for you and my grandkids. Youknowthat. I would be happy to watch them every single day for aslong as they needed me. But if you want to get another sitter for the girls, ifthat’s your way of beginning to …” She lifted her shoulders in a tired shrug.“I don’t know. Move on, I guess ...”
“Mom …” I turned away,headed to the fridge and opened it to hopefully find a bottle of beer, justwaiting to take it all away.
I didn’t.
“I know what it takesfor you to talk about it …”
“Idon’ttalk about it,” I grunted, shutting the refrigerator.
Turning in her chair toface me, I felt her pity searing through the fortress I had built aroundmyself. “Well, maybe you should start.”
***
Maybeyou should start. The closing of the front door was muffledwith those words, continually circling through my brain. I balled a fist andclosed my eyes to the gentle, therapeuticthump-thump-thumpof my hand against my forehead and wished on a deep exhale that this could alljust go away.
But I’d already beenwishing for years.
I could’ve let myselfsit there at the table for hours, berating myself and missing her, but Iwouldn’t—Icouldn’t. I had the girlsto tuck in and a story to read. There was always something to do to keep meoccupied. To keep me afloat when all my soul really wanted was to dive beneaththe surface and never come back up for air.
Sucking in a deepbreath, I rose from the table. I walked from the kitchen and into the livingroom, and my feet were stilled by a framed picture, hanging above the couch. Amoment in time, captured on our wedding day. I remembered the song I playedearlier at Jeff’s, thinking it couldn’t be a coincidence that I chose to playthatsong and look atthatpicture on thesame night. I lingered on the sunshine casting deep shadows overBeth’s face, and wished my fingers could trace the angle of her nose one moretime. Wishing my lips could contour to the shape of her mouth, just once more.Maybe twice, but I knew I shouldn’t be greedy.
My lips twisted to theside as every bundled emotion lodged itself in my throat, and I hurried on myway to the girls’ room. Running away from the picture, from her face and fromthe eyes that always seemed to ask,whatare you doing, Jon?
Idon’t know, babe.
I swallowed theunrelenting sorrow and entered their room. The thought struck me, as it alwaysdid, that the space was too small for three growing girls to share forever.Lilly, the oldest, was already six, with her younger sisters, Shelly andAnnabel, not far behind at four and two-and-a-half. As per usual, I remindedmyself that it was fine for now, but sooner rather than later, the bunkbeds andtwin-sized single mattress were going to seriously cramp their style.
