97. Bailey
ninety-seven
Bailey
The funeral was beautiful, the sanctuary full of friends and family. I squeeze his hand, “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, I choked up a bit toward the end, but I think it went really well, all things considered.”
“You were perfect,” I say as we head to the car hand in hand.
We ride in contemplative silence for a few miles, both of us surprised when my phone rings, carrying over onto the speakers.
“Hey, Mom,” I say.
“Hey sweetie, are you with Oliver?”
“I’m here,” he says.
I note a soft smile on his lips.
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry you’re going through this but I want you to know that I’m here for you if you ever need anything,” she says.
His smile widens, “Thank you Mrs. Bailey,” he replies.
“You’re very welcome,” she says, tone warm with earnestness.
I squeeze his hand in mine, glancing at him with a sheepish grin before I mouth the word, sorry.
He covers his mouth, stifling a laugh.
“Now, are you both going to be here for dinner next weekend? I’m making my famous poppyseed chicken,” Mom says in a sing-song voice.
“Yes ma’am,” we answer in unison, both of us laughing.
“Good,” she replies. “I love you Bailey. You two take care of each other, okay?”
“Okay, Mom. Love you, too,” I reply before ending the call.
I pull in a deep breath, unable to wrap my mind around the way she’s warmed up to him so quickly.
She has made a habit of calling every Saturday and now she makes me put her on speakerphone so she can talk to him, too.
Dad even hops on the calls every now and again.
It’s truly mind-blowing. He fits right in, like he was always meant to be in our lives.
A space that we didn’t even realize was vacant made just for him.
“Did I tell you Dad told Jake he could go kick rocks?” I ask with a sly smile.
He laughs, “Do fucking what?”
“True story,” I reply. “Mom was making plans for birthday dinner, and when Jake found out you were coming, he said a few unsavory things and Dad told him not to let the door hit his ass on the way out.”
“Unbelievable,” he says, shaking his head.
“Believe it, Lolly. You’re fucking stuck with me now.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says before plucking a sucker from his pocket and popping it in his mouth.
We let the music carry our silence the rest of the drive home.
I open the car door for him, offering him my hand. He takes it and with heavy footfalls, follows me inside.
He looks so lost, just standing in the kitchen, arms at his side—defeated.
“Let me,” I say as I empty his pockets and place his wallet and keys where he likes them.
He lets out a long sigh as I help him out of his suit.
Maybe he’s all out of tears.
I finish undressing him, place his shoes back in their box and start the shower. I want so desperately to take care of him, but don’t know how, so I just keep doing the next indicated thing, hoping it’s enough.
“Come here,” I say gently, reaching for his hand.
He takes my hand, slowly stepping into the shower, shoulders slumped, eyes heavy with exhaustion.
He’s heartbroken.
My chest tightens and I find myself wishing I could carry some of it for him. Some of the pain, a portion of his suffering.
I pull him to me, under the fall of the water, and wrap my arms around him.
He rests his face against mine, gently rocking in my embrace.
“I’ve got you, Angel,” I say, voice barely a whisper, as I run my hands along his back.
“Thank you,” he replies.
He lets me care for him in the ways I know how.
I finish washing us both and wrap his favorite towel around him.
His eyes meet mine as I kneel before him, his sweatpants in my hands.
I offer a soft smile, desperately trying to let him know that it’s an honor to be by his side, even in the darkness.
I hope he knows he doesn’t have to say a word.
That it’s okay for him to need me. It’s okay to let me love him in this way.
That I would do it a thousand times over.
Love him when he’s broken, with the same heart that loves him when he’s putting me back together.
I pull the covers back and watch as he mechanically lowers himself onto the bed.
I curl up behind him, placing soft kisses along his back as I wrap my arms around him, and gently run my hand along his arm until his breathing evens out and I’m certain he’s asleep.