Authors: Jill Valley
The next day we’re sitting back
at her place on the couch, talking about being together. It’s the easiest
conversation I’ve ever had. I’ve told her that I’ll get Melissa to run the bar
for the year and join her in upstate New York. It’s not ideal, but we’ll come
back to Portland for summers and breaks. The bar is a lot quieter in the winter
months anyway. The thought of being separated from her, even for a few months,
is unbearable to me.
She pauses, thinking. I love how
she bites down on her lower lip when she’s preoccupied. I just have to hope
that the flush on her cheeks is a happy one.
“We have to talk,” she says. “You
have to tell me what happened with your mom. In detail. That’s the only way we
can make this work.”
I take a deep breath and nod.
I’ve given my friends headlines, but I’ve never really talked to anyone about
it. I’ve kept it bottled up inside, because if I let it out . . . I just don’t
know what might happen. Until now.
I tell Nora everything. She sits
and holds my hand as I tell her about my mom and my dad and how it spiraled out
of control. My mom tried to protect me and she couldn’t. The night I came home
she had tried to get me to stay away, but it was her birthday and I came home
to surprise her.
“My dad was beating her,” I say,
remembering. There was a time when I couldn’t get the images out of my head.
“She was screaming, then she saw me. My dad made for me, but first he hit her.
. . .” I pause. “It wasn’t very hard, but it sent her backward, into the
fireplace.”
Nora covers her mouth with her
free hand.
“My dad was drunk, of course,” I
say. “He didn’t realize that I wasn’t a kid anymore. I spent my summers working
at a bar, moving barrels, breaking up fights. He was no match for me anymore.”
JJ sighs. “Sometimes I wonder, if I hadn’t come home. . . .”
Nora is there. “No,” she says.
“You can’t do that to yourself, can you? It ruins you.”
I nod. I know she’s right. And if
anyone should know, it’s Nora. I let go of her hand and hear her grunt, but I’m
only shifting positions to sling my arm around her shoulder and pull her close.
She makes a contented noise and snuggles closer.
“We buried her in Portland,” I
say quietly, my voice filled with a sadness I can’t contain. “My grandfather
made sure that happened. He paid for it and I know it cost him a lot of money,
but he wouldn’t hear of anything else. Would you, could you see yourself . . .”
I trail off, not knowing how to ask for what I need.
“Yes,” she says. “I’ll go there
with you.”
I look desperately at her. “I’m
sad,” I say quietly. “I’m scared. Can you help me?”
Her eyes fill with something I
can’t name, but I’ve never been so relieved in all my life to see it. Telling
Nora that I’m scared and I need help is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m
never the guy who needs help. I’m the guy who’s strong for everyone. Nora
especially I want to be strong for, and now here I am, begging her to wrap her
arms around me. I don’t deserve her, but boy do I need her.
I can’t say anything more right
now, but I take her hand.
We don’t leave right away, or
together. She says there’s something she needs to do first, and she’ll meet me
there. I’m confused, but I’m so emotionally spent I agree.
I meet her at the cemetery just
as dusk is falling. The sky is a stunning array of pinks, purples, and oranges.
My mother would have loved it.
Her grave is simple and I sit by
it, taking deep breaths, waiting until my reason to breathe arrives.
I see her coming across the green
grass and a smile breaks over my face. She’s holding flowers.
“Flowers,” she says, smiling so
gently my heart aches. “Bunches of flowers are the prettiest thing.”
She hands me some and I lay them
down together, then I pull her into my arms.
“Bunches,” I chuckle. She looks
up at me and I’m knocked breathless by the expression on her face. Is there any
greater honor than a girl like this looking at me like I’m her tomorrow?
“I love you,” I whisper. “I love
you, Bunches.”
She giggles and snuggles closer.
For the first time in years I’m
content. We’re content together.
The End