Chapter 36
TYLER
Six weeks later—September
Surprised isn’t the right word to express how I felt at Sally’s memorial service. I’d known that she had friends and was well-liked at work. Yet, I was stunned by how many people showed up to pay their respects, to talk about Sally and share memories, and to say goodbye.
It wasn’t just neighbors and coworkers. Her mailman stopped in to tell me how thoughtful she was, always leaving him cookies and hot cocoa in the winter and lemonade and popsicles in the summer.
No less than a handful of baristas from her favorite coffee shop stopped in to tell us how much they’ve missed her over the past eight months.
Of course, nurse April was there, and while I think she was there for Denny more than anything, her presence meant a lot.
Denny knew she was coming, and he handed her an envelope with an all-inclusive paid vacation for a week as a thank you for how much she went above and beyond to help him over the first several months of Ty’s life.
Perhaps one of the most touching moments was when both of Denny’s brothers walked through the door. Of course, I told Denny about talking to Leon when he called. I told him all about our conversation, and he even called Leon back.
Even though I was only sitting there, I could feel the awkwardness as they tried to talk.
It was filled with uncomfortable pauses and a complete absence of topics.
I’ll hand it to them, though. Over the past four months, they’ve had several calls between them and Anthony.
None of their communication skills have improved, but I love that they’re trying.
So when they walked through the door to show us their support, I sobbed like a fucking baby.
It was clear it meant a lot to Denny, too.
He stared at them, almost unrecognizing at first. Their hugs were awkward and almost funny.
That same awkwardness that happens on the phone was equally loud in person.
But they were there. That’s huge.
I think I cried for a solid three hours during Sally’s memorial. There was no casket, of course. Months had passed at that point. I settled on cremation at some point in April, and we had already buried her ashes in a beautiful cemetery, so we didn’t have those either.
Just a big picture.
Since putting her ashes in the ground in late May, we’ve visited her grave many times. Admittedly, I’m on the fence about how I feel about this. It’s my choice to keep visiting. I’m not sure if I want it to bring closure or if I feel like a part of her is here.
It’s different from being in her house, though. There’s something that I can’t quite figure out.
Ty knows where we are as soon as we pull into the cemetery. Denny parks the car, and together we head to her grave. I’m carrying Ty, and Denny has a basket with him.
There are a lot of people who insist that if ghosts exist, they wouldn’t hang around their dead bodies. They’d go where the root of their trauma is if their life was bad. They’d go where the good memories are. They’d go home.
I believe that. I believe, if there are ghosts in the world, that Sally’s wouldn’t be at her grave. Why would you hang out at a grave? If she’s anywhere, she’s in her own home or with us watching over Ty.
Yet, I still come here.
Denny lays out a blanket in front of Sally’s tombstone, and I set Ty on it.
He immediately gets on his hands and knees and crawls to the stone, pulling himself up like he has so many times.
He still uses his little finger to point at everything, so I’m not surprised when he pokes it into the second L of Sally’s name.
“Mommy’s name,” I say as I take a seat close to him so I can catch him if he loses his balance. “Sally.”
He makes an MMMM sound as he continues to press his finger through the L, following the shape.
Ty isn’t big on making sounds that mimic words.
He loves sounds in general but seems not to be in a hurry to speak.
His pediatrician wants to set him up with speech therapy. We’re currently on a waiting list.
Denny sits beside me, his arm around my waist as we watch Ty continue to MMMM at the stone and trace the L. He looks at me and smiles. Points at me and then up. His head falls back, and he laughs as a soft breeze ruffles his hair.
A shiver races along my spine, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “Do you feel that?” I whisper.
“Like someone’s watching us from the shadows? Yes.”
I look around, but Ty’s laughter keeps me riveted on him. He rocks unsteadily since his head is still thrown back. Denny and I reach for him, but he doesn’t fall. After a minute, he picks his head up, and I swear, this little boy sighs.
My eyes meet Denny’s, and we exchange a creeped-out look. Yep, that was weird. I’m not ready to suggest it’s a ghost, much less Sally’s ghost, but still. Weird.
Ty turns, wobbles, and ends up on his haunches before getting his hands under him.
He hasn’t been confident on his feet enough to take a step yet.
I’m honestly a little shocked since Felton has him on his feet all the time as they play with the little goal.
Perhaps I’m biased, but he’s got a good shot.
I’m not sure how he can successfully aim when hitting soft balls, but he still won’t walk.
We don’t care about Ty being slower to reach his milestones as long as he’s healthy and still learning. He is, and he does. He loves learning. It’s clear he understands more and more all the time. Honestly, I think not talking and not walking are choices more than they are something he can’t do.
Denny hands Ty his bowl of cereal circles, and sets a couple books in front of him. “Going to read to Mommy?” he asks.
Ty looks at the stone and grins. That big, cheesy smile that all babies have.
Denny reaches for his phone and opens a text. I watch him smile before he shows me that Anthony sent him a picture of his boys in the pool. There are floating goalie nets, though I’m unclear how they’re playing hockey in the pool.
Denny takes a picture of Ty and sends it back.
I say this about a lot of things, but there’s little I love more than seeing him build his relationship with his brothers.
I really hope they’ll get to a point where they’ll talk to their sister. I understand entirely why Denny refuses. She gave their mother his address. We went through a few months of bullshit because of her.
Since Leon and Anthony returned the online attacks against their mother and inadvertently started the #LeaveDennyAlone movement, their mother has vanished.
No one has seen or heard from her. Her social media accounts were taken down.
If she’s still in Canada, she’s not coming around anymore.
As far as I know, she hasn’t made any more serious but bullshit calls to CAS or the police.
The only thing she managed to accomplish was creating a bridge between her sons that they’re slowly beginning to cross. In fact, in two weeks, all three brothers and their families are getting together at a big resort with an indoor water park.
We rented a big suite with four bedrooms and a communal living area on the top floor of the hotel.
It wasn’t even my suggestion. Juney, Leon’s wife, suggested it, and I was nearly giddy when all three brothers accepted.
We’ll be there for four days and three nights.
Not too long, but long enough that they’ll get to hang out and reconnect.
Or maybe just connect, since they never managed that to begin with.
The #LeaveDennyAlone hashtag hasn’t lessened its momentum. It’s turned into one of those named laws, though not a legal recognition of any kind. The hashtag is now synonymous with survivors of child abuse, especially the kinds of abuse that are largely overlooked—emotional and psychological abuse.
Likewise, it’s a call to shine a spotlight on abusive parents and caregivers.
Maybe even more unexpectedly, it’s a loud voice to those who have survived past abuse and are now sharing their stories.
Much like other calls to action, to listen and believe abuse survivors when they come forward with what they’ve gone through.
Much like the #MeToo movement, but this one is specifically for survivors of childhood abuse other than physical and sexual components.
Not that they’re less important. But because they’re already spoken about on a large scale.
The world still struggles with acknowledging that mental health is important, so anything having to do with mental health is often pushed aside as less important.
#LeaveDennyAlone refuses to allow it to rest.
Much to Denny’s horror, I wear a #LeaveDennyAlone beaded bracelet almost all the time.
I also make sure Ty always has a shirt and hoodie in his size with the hashtag.
I don’t take Ty out in it when Denny is with us because it makes him uncomfortable.
He doesn’t like the attention. Yet, I think this call to action is also allowing all three brothers to begin healing from the trauma that they’ve ignored for three decades, including all the years they lived through it.
Today, Ty is wearing a Winnipeg tee. In fact, we’re all wearing Winnipeg tees. Denny loves seeing me in his shirts. I think it’s an instant turn on for him as well as some call to his base possessive instincts.
“You remember to turn the slow cooker on?” Denny asks.
I look away from Ty and my reminiscing about everything that’s happened in the last couple months. “Yep. I think it’s going to make some mean chicken salad.”
“You said that about that lime marinade, and we practically gagged and scared the shit out of Ty when we aggressively yanked it from in front of him.”
“I didn’t know it was going to be so… gross. We’ve learned a valuable lesson from that experience.”
“Taste the chicken before we feed it to our kid?” Denny asks.
My stomach flutters as it does every time he refers to Ty as ours. “Yes. That.”
His hand tightens on my hip for a moment, and I lean a little harder into his side. Denny’s fingers brush my chin and then coax my attention to his.
“Those fucking sexy glasses,” he mutters, and I see a flash of desire shine through his eyes.
I grin.
“I want to tell you something, and this feels like both the right place and incredibly inappropriate at the same time.”
“Oh no. Please tell me you’re not dying.”
Denny’s eyes widen. “Wow. That’s where your mind went?”
“We’re in a cemetery,” I hiss.
He chuckles. “No, I’m not dying. No more than every other living thing is.”
Relief makes my shoulders relax. “Good news. I think I can survive anything you have to say now.”
Denny shakes his head, amused. His lips brush mine, and he murmurs, “I love you. I’ve never loved another person the way I love you. In a thousand lives, I’ll only ever love you like this.”
This man may come across as somewhat flippant and aloof at times, but fucking Christ, the swoon that comes out of his mouth when I least expect it has me nearly forgetting how to breathe.
Without thinking, I practically leap into his arms with enough force that we go toppling over. My mouth lands on his, and I kiss him until the sting leaves my eyes. Ty giggles, and I remember where we are.
“Oh. I see why you didn’t know if this is a good place,” I say and glance at Sally’s headstone.
“Weirdly, I think she needs to be a part of the moment since you’re convinced she kind of orchestrated us, even if her plan abruptly changed when she died.”
Resting my cheek against his, we watch Ty as he continues to babble and point at pictures in his book. He looks like he’s actually having a conversation with someone when he looks at Sally’s stone every once in a while. Like she comments or asks a question.
“I’m going to guess that my declaration of love is well received,” Denny says.
I huff. “Uh, yeah!”
“Good. There’s no pressure to—”
Realizing I didn’t exactly get the words out, I cut his sentence off with my tongue in his mouth, making him laugh. “I love you, too. I’m not as eloquent or romantic, but I love you too. Every day feels like the beginning, and we have eons to spend together. I’m thankful for every one of them.”
“That’s plenty eloquent.”
“I love our family. It’s perfect.”
Denny kisses me softly, and we share a series of soft, sweet kisses until we settle on the ground and watch Ty read to Sally. I can’t wait to spend my entire life with this man and our baby.
And Sally. She’s here somewhere. I can’t convince myself she’d ever truly leave me and Ty. She’s here watching over us and sharing our most important moments.