Scott Williams surprises me, popping out of his chair in the back row. “My little brother just got diagnosed with juvenile diabetes—which one is that? It’s so weird. He’s such a tiny little dude. I don’t know how he ended up with a fat-person disease.”
“How long ago was he diagnosed?” Bernard asks, no judgement in his voice at all for the tactless words of the teenager.
“About a month or so ago, I guess.” Scott slumps back in his chair. “Now my mom’s all worried all the time. It’s like it’s the only thing happening at our house and it’s happening twenty-four seven. I’m over it.” His shoulders fall, his face slowly heating, and I feel sorry for the kid. Moments ago, I wanted to tear into him. I know firsthand how much the rest of life can feel like it takes a backseat to this disease.
“I understand that.” Bernard hops up onto my desk, the only indication that the day is wearing on him.
I glance at the clock, glad to see only twenty minutes remain before the final bell rings. It’s been a long, emotional day. But a good one. If even half these kids take what they learned home with them today, then today was a good day. Eyes were opened and important information was shared.
“I bet your brother does, too. The truth is, diabetes doesn’t take a day off. There’s no way to pick and choose when you pay attention to it. It’s there constantly. Take a look at Mr. Wade for a moment.” He pauses as the class collectively turns their attention to me for the first time today. Bernard stands quietly waiting for the whispers and gasps to die down before he continues.
“A few days ago, Mr. Wade came to my house to check on me like he always does. He wasn’t expecting what he got, though…”
My thoughts drift off as Bernard tells the story he has told so many times today, sprinkling in information throughout that will hopefully help save lives. I hope when Scott walks out of this classroom, he’ll have a better understanding of everything his little brother goes through each day. That alone will make today worth it.
28
Solid Work
“Hand me that screwdriver, would you?”
Bernard’s sitting in the rocker across from the big window, today’s sun shining across his lap, making little particles of dust dance in front of his face. He seems tired today, his movements slow and heavy.
He glances down at the tool he’s been holding in his hand since he sat down. “I thought you’d be needing this.” He chuckles softly, a sad smile on his face. “I remember…I remember the day we put together sweet Leila’s crib. She was already with us. We didn’t worry about the crib before she was born. She slept in a little basket by the bed in the beginning. But it wasn’t long before she was too big for it. They grow fast. You be sure to cherish every moment. Try to live in the moment. If I could tell my younger self anything, it would be this: to quit living in the past and the future all the damn time. You have to live in the moment. Yesterday will always be a day behind you, and tomorrow will always be a day ahead. Live for today. Live for right now.”
His eyes meet mine, and I feel a chill run through my soul. I don’t think his words are meant for me, but I’d be a fool not to listen. His eyes are telling me that much.
He reaches forward, extending the tool out in front of him—the dust particles flipping and floating away. Laughter floats up the stairs from the party below, only aiding in the eeriness of the moment.
I take the tool from his hand, surprised when he grabs my wrist, holding it for a moment. “Thank you for always taking such good care of my girl. She’s everything to me. Of course, I love all you kids, but that one…her home is right here,” he says, patting his chest. “I don’t worry about her anymore, though. I know she’s loved and cared for.” He lets out a big sigh, squeezing my wrist before he lets go. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He shakes his head. “Sentimental old fool,” he finishes with a light laugh, sinking back into the shadows, the particles reappearing to continue their slow dance.
I turn back to the crib, only needing the tool to tighten the work I’ve started with my hands. The dark mahogany wood of the crib looks beautiful against the buttercream color of the walls. Brice didn’t want pink; instead she’s chosen a neutral shade, and she’s accenting it with a beautiful ocean blue. She painted a picture of fish scales under a microscope, but instead of using the natural colors, she infused it with a hue of blues and purples—mermaid colors.
“That’s solid work right there.” The words are soft and end with a loud exhale of breath.
The chills from moments before return.
I set the driver down, slowly turning, my heart beginning to accelerate in my chest. Bernard i’s slumped in the chair, his arm hanging slack over the side. Rushing over, I gather his limp body in my arms, laying him on the floor beside the crib.
“Mom! Brice!” I yell, hoping my voice carries through the celebration below. “Help!”
I feel for a pulse, but I can’t find one. I don’t know what happened. He was fine just moments ago. I feel for his sternum, carrying my fingers up. I place my hands above his heart and start compressions.
My mom is the first one through the door frame, the rest of the women in my life appearing one by one behind her. Julie flips open her cell phone and begins speaking rapidly.
“He just… He’s gone. He was just talking to me. Now… Now he’s gone…”
I continue the compressions, vomit rising up my throat as I feel his bones crack violently beneath my hands.
“Stop!” Brice pushes her way through everyone, stumbling back when she comes into view. “You have to stop… He wouldn’t want that… Stop!”
She falls to her knees, cradling his face in her hands. She takes a shaky breath, tears sliding freely from her eyes. Brice grabs my wrist, pulling my hands away.
“Please…stop,” she whispers, and her words finally sink in.
She’s right. I shouldn’t have tried—but I had to try.
“I’m sorry.” A foreign voice comes out of me. “I’m so sorry, he… I couldn’t just let him go… How? How… How do we let him go?” I can’t hold back the flood, and I wish more than anything that it was just the three of us in this room. I’m falling apart in front of all of them.
Julie snaps her phone closed. Her eyes hold mine for a moment before she turns to address all the baby-shower attendees. “The medics will be here shortly. Let’s clear the room, so they can get in here.” She turns back to Brice. “I’m right downstairs if you need me, baby,” she whispers, before shooing the small crowd out of the room.
The door closes softly behind them.
“This isn’t goodbye. I’ll carry you with me always. I’ll never say goodbye.” Brice leans down, her lips meeting his forehead. She sits back up, her eyes finding mine. “He’s still here; he’ll always be here.”
She falls into me, and we hold each other, crying on the floor until the gurney pushes through the door.
She pulls in a shaky breath, addressing the first man to walk in. “He has a DNR. Harrison didn’t know. He just signed it last week.” Her voice is detached, floating in a sea of sadness.
I stand on legs that aren’t my own, in a place I’ve never been before. I reach out my hand to Brice—she’s the only thing keeping me in the room right now. Her presence, the only thing that feels solid…real to me.
She grabs my hand, and the effort to stand is almost too much for her. Her belly is so rounded, it’s hard for her to get her balance. It takes me a moment to register this and reach out my other hand.
We stand together, silently watching as our best friend is loaded onto the gurney. His dark skin looks ashen, sunken in without life to animate it. I feel rooted to the spot, and yet as if I have floated a million miles away.
“We were just talking…” I’m surprised when the words slip out. I know that they have no meaning now.
Brice squeezes my hand tightly as the medics disappear with Bernard. She lets go when the last
voice travels beyond us and we’re truly alone once more.
“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to let go of someone I only ever wanted to hold onto…” Her words dissolve into an ocean of sadness. It knocks us from the shore to float in its desolate waves of sorrow, begging us to dive down into the deep, dark trenches of grief.
29
How to Say Goodbye
I can’t seem to get my mouth around the words. Today is the day we gather with friends to say goodbye. Brice wants me to speak—says I’m good at it. A bitter laugh wells up from deep inside, and it actually feels good to let it out.
“Harrison, is that you?”
I’ve been standing in front of my closet for too long now. I’m sure she’s starting to get impatient.
I feel her walk into the room, her grief palpable. It mingles and swirls with mine until the air becomes a toxic thing that poisons my lungs. I take a deep breath of it, wanting to feel the putrid burn of sadness as it flows through my veins.
“Hey.” She slides her hand down my arm, giving a gentle tug as she reaches my fingertips. “Come on, I’ll find you something. Just…just let me take care of you.” The last of her words come out in a rush, and I know it’s all she can do to hold back the tears that have been a near constant for her for the last two days.
I feel her belly brush against my back as her hands smooth over my shoulders. “You always look stunning in that gray button-down, and I found the perfect tie. It’ll match mine.” Her voice sounds lighter, somehow, and I wonder what she’s talking about. She certainly doesn’t own any ties.
“What—” I turn to ask, pausing to take her in. She’s wearing a simple, black, sleeveless dress, and around her neck she has a gray silk tie with tiny pink flamingos all over it. On her head rests a black fedora with one pink feather tucked into the gray silk band. “—are you wearing?” I finish, a sudden rush of laughter welling up and out of me. The sadness is still there, like a shadow standing behind us, but seeing her in his hat releases me from it for a moment.
She looks down at the floor before she answers. “I couldn’t sleep last night. I didn’t want today to be an ordinary funeral. He wasn’t an ordinary man. Then, when I got up this morning, it came to me, and I knew… I knew what we had to do. So, I went out to his house—” her voice cracks, and I know how hard it must have been for her to go there and be in his presence without him, “—and, I picked out some hats for all of us. He wouldn’t want them to be left sitting, gathering dust. It might sound silly, but I feel him more closely with this on my head.” She lifts the hat, tipping it toward me for a moment before she rests it back in place.
“And the tie?” I don’t remember ever seeing Bernard in a tie, even when he worked at the school.
“Turns out, he had just as many ties as hats. For some reason, I couldn’t leave the flamingos behind. They went so well with the pink feather.” She shrugs her shoulders, rubbing the tie between her fingers. “He was so full of life, you know? It didn’t matter that he was eighty. I fully expected to have another ten years with him. Even when he tried telling me, I didn’t want to listen. I couldn’t… I couldn’t… I just….” She shakes her head, curls falling from the confines of the hat and tumbling across her shoulders.
“I know, baby. I know.” I wrap my arms around her, the hat falling from her head, as I bend down to kiss her. Our sadness mingles, coloring our kiss with dark hues of burnt ember and crimson. My hand travels down, resting on her belly where I find the only happiness in our world that has been tinged by sorrow. My daughter runs her tiny foot across my hand, reminding me that through everything, life must prevail.
“We’ll do this together.”
“It was a beautiful service.”
I nod my head in agreement, a tight smile on my face. I’ve heard this same thing, or something like it, countless times already. It feels never-ending, and I want nothing more than to scoop my wife in my arms and carry her to the car.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Ms. Shrimp says, solidifying the notion in my mind that I should do exactly that.
“Sorry, but we’ve gotta get out of here.”
Brice turns at my words, abandoning the conversation she’s having with Cassie. Before I can talk myself out of it, I slip an arm behind her knees, and the other across her back, sweeping her into my arms. “Let’s go.”
She rests her head against my chest, whispering for only me to hear. “Thank you. Cassie was keeping the line moving, but thank you for putting a stop to the endless torture. You’re my knight in shining armor.”
I press my key fob and place her on her feet beside the car. Her eyes are saucers, and the wrinkles between them a deep valley. “Was that rude? Do you think they’ll think we’re rude? Running off like two newlyweds instead of grieving family members? We’re terrible.” Her words are coming rapid fire, and I’m starting to wonder if the relief of leaving early is going to be shattered by her guilt.
“Hey.” I run my thumb across her bottom lip, causing the valley to flatten and her words to still. “Let them think what they want, but I don’t think they’ll want to think bad of us. And if they do—fuck them. Every person in there is feeling pain from losing him, but not one of them as deeply or profoundly as you. Not even me. You want to know what the last thing we talked about was?”
I feel the back of my throat begin to close, and it’s all I can do to swallow past it. I glance down at the black tie I’m wearing, this one with a single flamingo wearing a pair of black sunglasses. The absurdity of it makes me smile, and I feel him standing there with me in the moment.
“What did he say?” She traces my flamingo with her finger before she lays her head on my shoulder, her swollen abdomen resting against me.
“He thanked me for taking care of you—which is exactly what I’m doing.” I tilt her face up to mine and kiss her gently. “He also told me that you live in his heart, but I already knew that.”
Her tears fall silently, sliding into my hand, which is ’caressing her cheek. She pulls my face back to hers, surprising me with the intensity of her kiss.
“Thank you…for being there with him. And thank you…for loving me.”
Her tears become silent sobs, and I quickly turn to open the door. I guide her into the seat and fasten the belt around her.
“I didn’t have a choice.” The words fall quietly from my soul as I close the door. The image of him slumped over in the chair is playing over and over again in my mind, as I walk around to my side. I knew—I felt it in the chills that covered my skin, heard it in the weakness of his words. I just wish I had listened. Paid better attention. I wish I had dropped the screwdriver and stood at his side. Instead of being a coward—turning my back to him.
30
Amelia
She pauses from the book she’s reading and glances up at me. “I’ve been thinking…”
This is how ninety-nine percent of her sentences start. She’s a thinker. Her thoughts are often deep underground rivers—courses unknown—invisible to the naked eye. A tiny smile plays on her face, and the ropes that have bound my heart for the past two weeks loosen. Smiles are a rare thing these days. I still my hands, her foot warm between them, waiting expectantly to hear where her thoughts are taking her.
“I want to name her Amelia. Amelia Grace.”
Unexpected. She’s been set on the name Estella for months. I take the word and tumble it around in my mind for a moment before I try passing it through my lips. “Amelia… I like it. What made you change your mind?” My hands start their slow rub across the sole of her foot again as I wait for her response.
“Mmmm… Can I keep you forever?” Brice teases, her head leaning back against the sofa, causing the curl to spring from its holding place and flop into her line of sight. She grabs it, shoving it forcefully behind her ear.
It won’t stay—never does. She hates it, absolutely hates that curl. She’s declared all-out war on it more times than I can count…even threatening t
o cut it off every now and again.
“Well?” She gives me a pointed look, and I can’t help but laugh as the curl slips free again, bouncing across her nose.
I love that curl.
“Shut up!” She laughs. “I know you love them, but they drive me crazy! Seriously, I should just go get the scissors.” She huffs, making it bounce again. She pulls it out straight in front of her and turns her fingers into a pair of scissors, giving it an imaginary snip.
My laughter breaks free, and I feel life awaken within me once more. I can’t stop; I glance at Brice, and her eyebrow has disappeared—lost beneath the mass of curls.
“Whew,” I release before the chuckles consume me again. “Sorry—I. I don’t know… I don’t know what happened.” I take a deep breath, my lungs sucking it in with greed. When I let it go, I feel some of the sadness that has been holding me let go, too.
“I love you,” she says simply, relaxing back into the couch. “Now seriously, what do you think of Amelia? I’ve been reading a book about Amelia Earhart. She didn’t think twice about the expectations of others. She knew what she wanted in life, and she worked hard to make it her reality. She was a champion amongst women, living in a man’s world. She was inspired, brave, and confident. I want all of those things for our daughter. I want her to chase her dreams on feet that know the way. I don’t know, it probably sounds silly… I just… I don’t know… Say something!” She laughs, shaking the foot that’s in my hand.