Chapter 13 #3
“We did.” While I told her about the restaurant and the bar, I filled a mug, added a splash of milk from a small, white pitcher that was shaped like a cow, and sat down at the kitchen island. Then I asked, “Where’s your husband?”
“Out doing some last-minute holiday shopping. I told him he didn’t need to do that, because there are already a ton of presents under the tree. But that’s Ed for you. No matter how much he does, he always thinks he should be doing more.”
“He’s a really nice person.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” She took a seat beside me as she changed the subject. “Now that you and I have the chance to talk one-on-one, please tell me honestly, how’s Devon?”
“He um… I mean, he’s fine…”
“Did he tell you not to bring up the curse because it would upset me?”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what he said.”
She sighed and wiped her hands on her red apron, which was already smeared with flour. “I’m worried about him, more than ever now that his thirtieth birthday is so close.”
“But you don’t believe in the curse, do you?”
“Oh no, not at all. But he does, so I’m worried that he might be starting to unravel, if you know what I mean. He’s always all smiles whenever we talk, but I think some of that might be a mask to hide what he’s really feeling. What do you think?”
I took a sip of coffee as I considered the question.
Then I said, “I think Devon’s a pretty complicated person.
He really does seem to be happy most of the time, and he’s all about living in the moment.
At the same time though, he truly believes his days are numbered, and I don’t get it.
He’s logical in other ways, so why does he whole-heartedly believe in that curse? ”
Belinda sighed softly before telling me, “I’m pretty sure he chooses to believe it because it alleviates some of his guilt.”
“What does he feel guilty about?”
“The death of his father.”
“He told me he was four when his dad died. How could he possibly feel guilty about anything?”
“He shouldn’t. It was my fault, not his.”
I put down the mug and said, “His dad died in a car accident. It couldn’t have been your fault, either.”
“It was, though,” she said softly, her hands fidgeting with her apron strings.
“My husband had gone out that night with friends from work to celebrate a birthday. Devon wasn’t the easiest kid, and he was pitching a fit about going to bed.
He kept insisting that he wanted his daddy to tuck him in, not me.
I ended up calling him at the restaurant and asking him to come home early. ”
She looked devastated as she whispered, “I was just so tired. All I wanted was for Devon to go to sleep, so I could, too. If I hadn’t made that call, his father never would have been in the intersection when that truck ran a stop sign.”
I squeezed her hand and said, “You can’t blame yourself for that. It was an accident.”
“You don’t have to comfort me. I’ve learned to live with my guilt.
Devon never did though, and it ate away at him.
He kept saying his dad would still be alive if he hadn’t been acting out.
Nothing I said could change his mind. Neither could the school counselor, or our minister, or the therapist I was able to hire for him after Ed and I got married. ”
I whispered, “I had no idea he was carrying that around.”
“It’s not something he likes to talk about.
” She pushed her hair off her forehead with the back of her hand and said, “Oddly enough, the only thing that seemed to ease his guilt a little was when he met with that psychic. When she told him the men in his family were cursed, he felt like he finally had an explanation for why his dad was taken away from him at such a young age. He still felt guilty, but not in the same way. Now his father’s death was bigger than him.
He latched onto the idea of a curse with both hands and wouldn’t let go, and just like with his guilt, no one could talk him out of it. ”
That explained so much. It was like the puzzle that made up Devon finally had a few more pieces in place.
“I could never understand why Devon was so determined to believe in something that defies logic, but I get it now,” I said. “As wildly improbable as it is, it has to be better than feeling responsible for his father’s death.”
“Exactly.” She shifted her gaze to a spot off in the distance as she told me, “Some part of Devon always wanted to believe in magic, and in things that defied explanation in this world. I used to think it was charming, before this curse thing came along and took over his entire life.”
“What should I do? There’s the rest of December and all of January to get through. How do I keep him from completely imploding? And what’s he going to do when his birthday comes and goes and he realizes there was no curse?”
She shifted her gaze back to me and said, “Just keep being there for him, Kit. I have no idea how he’s going to be as his birthday gets closer, or how he’ll react once it’s passed and he realizes none of what he believed was real. All I know is, he’s going to need you to help him through it.”
I nodded. “Like I told Devon last night, I’m not going anywhere.”