Chapter 9
9
KINGSTON
“ E ddie Walker Silver lived a life of joy, love, and strength. And he died as he lived, in the arms of his doting wife, under the care of those who wanted to see him thrive, and under the strength of his own perseverance. We do not say he lost a battle. For this is not losing. This is merely an outcome that nobody wanted. He did not lose his fight, for that would outweigh the battle he clawed his way with bravery through. Eddie Walker Silver was a man of love and devotion. And he will be missed.”
I squeezed Claire’s hand after the speaker continued on about Eddie’s power, his multiple awards in life, and everything that he had lived through.
I hadn’t seen Eddie day-to-day in our lives. We hadn’t worked together but he would come in the building with Samantha for her tattoos, and both would come in for coffee and sweet treats at the cafe. They’d even attended an art exhibit at the art gallery on the other end of the building. They had bought a piece of my cousin’s art.
No, Eddie and I hadn’t been best friends, nor did we share each other’s deepest, darkest secrets. But our lives had been entwined in a way that you were with strangers who hadn’t realized how close you could be. And I had bled for him and had tried to save him. I had tried to do so much.
Only a single blood clot had changed the game.
The next person stood up to speak, then Samantha, then Eddie’s father, another friend, and then another.
And now I was supposed to sit here as the others spoke of Eddie, holding Claire’s hand as Eddie’s family—as well as mine—watched, and pretend that I could be as strong as the man who now lay in ashes in front of us. A wooden box carved for him by his grandfather. A grandfather who still lived and sat there with his chin up high as if he could fight back the tears with just a glare.
My friend lay in a wooden box, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and it was all I could do not to scream.
Failed.
The match had failed. The treatment had failed. I had failed .
And then Samantha looked at me, and I cleared my throat, knowing what had to come next.
I turned to Claire and pressed my forehead against hers. It wasn’t fair to rely on her like this, to need her strength. We didn’t even know what we were to each other, and yet she was there for me. So I would be selfish in this instant and take whatever I could. I needed to be the strong one for Samantha and Eddie’s family. If his grandfather could sit there with his chin held high, I could do the same.
“You’ve got this,” Claire mouthed, and I nodded tightly, before standing fully and making my way down the aisle. I passed my parents, all three of them sitting together, with my mother sitting between them, holding both of my dads’ hands. She gave me a tight nod, and I knew it was because she was ready to cry but wanted to hold back so she wouldn’t weep. They’d gotten to know Eddie over the past two treatments and were at a loss for words.
They weren’t the only ones who had come to pay their respects and remember a man who had fought to survive most of his life. My cousins were there, my brothers. Eddie’s family, friends. Those we went to school with.
And I had no idea what I was going to say to these people.
I stood at the microphone staring at those in front of me during this non-denominational service and I knew this was not exactly what Eddie had wanted. What he had truly wanted was to live . But people here, remembering him, that’s what he deserved. And that’s what Samantha and her family deserved.
I cleared my throat, not truly seeing those in front of me. “Eddie was my friend. He was the one who accidentally kicked a soccer ball right into a place you shouldn’t kick when we were teenagers. And that one moment, when I saw stars, and I wondered exactly how I was ever going to get my low voice back again, that moment was when we became friends.”
Laughter filled the room, and I knew I had done what I was supposed to. To make it a little lighter, to ease the burden for only a moment. Because I had tried to ease the burden before. To be the one to save the day. And I had failed. So I wouldn’t fail in this.
“Eddie loved lemon pastries and chai lattes. He loved tattoos, though he never got one. So he would sit while I would get one, or Samantha, and talk about all of the art he would one day have on his skin.” I cleared my throat. “But a needle never touched him. Mostly because he said every time he thought of needles, he thought of something else. So he hadn’t been ready. He had been waiting.” I cleared my throat again, my voice growing thick. “And I had been waiting to do my next tattoo for him. And myself. And so maybe something I should have learned long ago was not to wait.”
I looked up at Claire in that instant, at the tears falling down her cheeks, and let out a breath. I pulled my gaze from her because I couldn’t look at her when I said this. I didn’t want her to be my strength. I couldn’t put so much onto her, when whatever we had was so fragile, so new.
“Eddie was my friend. And when any one of us needed something, he would step in. He gave everything he could. Even when he didn’t have much left some days. And the one thing he always told me he wanted to give more of, but he knew somewhere deep down that he didn’t have much left—was time . He gave his time to us. However short it was by this cruel trick of fate, he gave us himself—and his time. And whatever lessons can be learned from something so devastating, is that we need to treasure those moments. Time hits you like a bullet train: it hits you fast and slides through your fingers before you have a moment to breathe. Eddie was my friend ,” I repeated. “He was joyous. He was powerful. And he ran out of time. And I am going to hate the concept and reality of that until the end of my days. But I’ll always remember the time we had.”
And with that, I cleared my throat again, and made my way back to sit next to Claire. She leaned her head against my shoulder, crying in deep sobs. I handed her a tissue, as everyone else began to whisper through jagged breaths and Samantha went up to speak again.
She wasn’t crying, however. She had that shell-shocked look about her, that look of someone who didn’t really understand how this was reality. I could truly understand that feeling. Eddie had been turning around. He was supposed to live. It was only supposed to be one little procedure.
One more thing until he could go home.
And it had killed him.
By the time she was finished speaking, telling jokes for all of our sakes so we could laugh with her, I was ready to get out of the suit, and to just get home. When we finished with the service and headed toward a restaurant to eat, my family and I didn’t stay long. Everyone else had stories about his childhood and wanted to laugh, and I didn’t feel like it was my place to stay.
I had tried to give him part of me, my actual literal cells, and yet those were gone. It hadn’t worked again.
And I wasn’t sure I could stay and watch the outcome.
So I said my goodbyes, made sure that Samantha and the rest of their family, including Eddie’s grandfather, knew I was here if they needed me, but I knew they wouldn’t ask. They had taken what they needed from me before, what I had freely given, and it hadn’t worked. It hadn’t been enough.
“Come to the house, baby,” my mom said, as she cupped my cheeks.
“I just want to go home.”
“No.”
I looked down at her, confused. I hadn’t heard that biting tone of strength in a long time. Mostly it was only when I was in trouble.
“Mom. I’m an adult.”
“And you’re still my baby, Kingston Montgomery. Just like Logan and Oliver are. You’re going to get in that car, you’re going to have Claire drive you, and you’re going to come home. You’re going to come home to your family and we’re going to have tea, or beer, whatever you need. But you are not going to your home alone. And I’m sure that you and Claire can also be there for each other, but I’m going to be the mean mom and make you come home so I can watch you. Just for a little bit. Let me be selfish.”
I knew this wasn’t for her. This was for me. She was saying she could be selfish so I would blame her if I got angry. Because she was good at knowing what I needed even though I didn’t want it.
“I could get angry, you know,” I muttered.
“You won’t. Because you want to come over too. I made pie. ”
I smiled at that, surprising myself that I could smile, and I went over to Claire’s side. “Mom wants us to go over there. She said both of us,” I warned.
“Your dad already warned me. Are you sure it’s okay? I mean, I know your family because I’m friends with your family, but I don’t want things to get complicated for you.”
I pulled her close to me in a hug and sighed. “We sort of blew through those barn doors already. No use trying to close them.”
“Lovely imagery but true. But okay, let’s go get pie.”
“Mom makes a damn good pie.”
We ended up at my parents’ home soon after. It wasn’t the home we grew up in, as once the kids had moved out, they had decided to find a place a little farther out near the mountains, and where they wouldn’t have to worry too much about getting kids to school and all of the events and sports that we had.
Though, ever the artist my father was, Lincoln had made sure to take out the door frame that had our heights on them and made an art piece from it that lay in Mom’s library. And then of course, one of my uncles who happened to build houses for a living, had built a new door frame.
“This piece is amazing,” Claire whispered under her breath as she stared at one of my dad’s latest creations currently taking space in the living room .
I smiled down at her. “It really is.”
“You don’t take it for granted who your parents are?”
I shrugged. “They’re Mom and Dads. I think what I really took for granted was the fact that I grew up in a family with two dads and a mom. Who all loved each other. Who had one bedroom, and an extra-large custom-made king.” I paused and looked at her. “I’m not really sure where they found the person to make that mattress, but it works apparently.” I paused, letting out a deep breath. “I meant that it works for the room. I’m just going to shut up right now.”
Claire’s eyes filled with laughter, and she pushed at my hip. “Whoever did the metal and woodwork though, should probably talk to your cousin Noah. I’m sure that they’re going to need that big of a bed.”
“Oh I’m pretty sure that Noah’s parents, also a throuple, already gave them the information. It probably should concern me that there’s so many throuples in my family, but no, it’s just life. I like that it’s normal.”
“Of course it’s normal. It’s love. Did you ever think that you would end up in one?” she asked, and I didn’t hear worry in her tone, considering we were sleeping together, and spending time together—just curiosity.
I held back a laugh at her question, surprising myself. “No, I never wanted to share.” It was the honest truth and I liked the way she blushed at my words.
“I’ve always wanted a real painting. One that isn’t a print. Maybe one day I can afford one of your dad’s. Like a small one. To fit in my wallet.”
“I can try to get you a discount. Though I don’t really get the family discount.”
“As you shouldn’t. The family would go broke if we kept allowing that,” Lincoln said as he came forward and squeezed my shoulder, before giving Claire a hug. “And thank you for liking my work. Sometimes I’m afraid in my old age that I’m forgetting how to work with oils.”
“Really? You’re going to call yourself old?” Ethan said as he came forward, two glasses of sparkling cider in hand. He handed them both to Claire and me and we took them in thanks.
“Considering we’re the same age, dear, don’t call us old.” Ethan winked, and Lincoln just shrugged.
“It’s my prerogative.”
Claire smiled at their banter. “I’ve been to your mom’s shop too. Seriously, your family’s so talented.”
“And I’m just a chemist,” Ethan said with such a put-upon sigh, it made me smile—once again surprising myself.
“Oh yes, please tell me more, Mr. Award-winning and grant-winning chemist about how tough your life is.”
My dads bickered in humor, trying to lighten the tension in the room, and my brothers came forward, both of them flirting with Claire, and trying to keep me smiling. Only the more they tried, the more I wanted to sink into myself.
“So, Claire, I know this isn’t exactly how the whole meet the parents thing works, but should I ask how long you two have been together?” my mom asked, and as Claire’s eyes widened, I scowled at my mom.
“Really? Really.”
“What? I haven’t met a girlfriend or whatever labels we’re using now. And I’m bad at this. Remember, I ran out on one wedding before. I’m really bad at relationships.”
“So bad she married both of us,” Lincoln said.
Claire’s eyes widened. “Wait, you ran away from a wedding?”
My mom winced. “It’s a long story that I will get into later. And forget I asked the question.”
“Give the boy a break. But can I have a second piece of pie?” Ethan asked, as my mom bit her lip.
“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to think of things to say that won’t make everything hurt, but maybe that’s not the best thing to do. But know we’re here, Kingston. For you. We love you. ”
“I know.” I set down my drink and rolled my shoulders back. “I’m going to go outside for some air.”
I left them standing there, abruptly, leaving Claire to the wolves. Even though my family was anything but wolves. They were kind, caring, and had always been there for me. And I couldn’t even look at them right then. Because they had all tried with me. And my friend was dead.
What were you supposed to say to that?
I stood on the deck that my uncles had built, and stared off into the distance, the icy chill of winter weather hitting. There would be another snowstorm soon, as there always was. The ice and snow coming back with a vengeance.
Everything felt bleak, as if the cold meant something more than just the bite.
A gentle hand pressed against the small of my back, and I let out a breath.
“Sorry. Just needed to think.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. We’re all awkward saying the wrong things because we don’t know how to help you. What you said today was beautiful though. About time. I hardly even knew Eddie, and I cried for him because of your words.”
I ran a fist over my chest, trying to ignore the ache. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I was trying to lighten the mood, and it turned into tears. Didn’t mean to fuck up.”
“You didn’t fuck up, Kingston.”
I turned to look at her, scowling. “Yes, I did. It wasn’t enough. Don’t you understand? He wouldn’t have needed this second round if my bone marrow would’ve worked the first time. Instead the cancer came back, and I couldn’t even do it right this time. I’m still on that donor list, so even if they want to come to me, I won’t do it. Because nothing I have will be enough. They’ll just die. They’ll have hope, and then they’ll die. That’s what I give them. False hope. I failed him. Just like I failed you.”
I wasn’t shouting the words, but I bit them out with every single ounce of hatred for myself that I had. And I was putting this all on Claire, the one person who didn’t need it.
“Stop.”
I swallowed hard. “Claire?—”
“No. Don’t think you failed me. I was stabbed and almost died and yet I knew someone was coming. I might’ve tried to go for help, but I knew you would be there. You and Kane. I knew how to fight, even if I knew I wasn’t strong enough, because I knew you would come. For Phoebe because of Kane and just because of you, Kingston. Because you fight for those you care about, and I was lucky enough to be in that orbit. And it took far too long for me to realize that. I pushed you away because I didn’t realize it. But I do now. Don’t blame yourself. You give everything that you have, and I trust you with everything because of that. Eddie died because of a blood clot. Because cancer is terrible, and we still haven’t found a cure. But you gave him more time with his wife. You gave him the time in the first place to find her. You gave him that time that was so precious. Remember that, Kingston. You gave him time.”
I cupped her cheeks, and brushed my lips against hers, before wiping her tears away. “Thank you,” I whispered, as my own tears fell, and Claire held me tight.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my parents holding each other with my brothers on either side of my dads. And so I held out my arms, and they came to me, and we held each other, as some of us cried, and some of us stood there stoically, nothing left but grief, and gratitude for what we held.
My friend was dead, and we’d run out of that time. Only Claire was in my arms, and something shifted.
And I had no idea what.