CHAPTER THREE #3
Somehow, unable to stop my dumb mouth from moving for maybe the first time in my life, I said, "But I can tell you one thing.
I don't know you people, and I didn't know your kid, but I know for a fact that you love him.
I know you'd do anything for him. And, to me, even though he was dealt with such a shitty hand, he's still so lucky to have parents like you.
‘Cause, believe me, a lot of kids …" I pressed my lips together, shaking my head. "Not so lucky."
His father tipped his head and asked, "What is your name?"
"Bram," I answered, itching now for that cigarette I hadn't gotten the chance to smoke.
"Bram," he repeated, swallowing. "Well … thank you, Bram. That … that means a lot."
"Yeah."
I startled when, from behind me, the door opened, and Leonard exited the room quietly. He looked at me first with a solemn nod of the head, silently telling me it was time, and then he addressed the parents of Travis McDonald.
"Some folks don't like to watch this part," he explained gently. "Would you like a minute to step out?"
The woman pulled her lips between her teeth, then quickly nodded before hurrying away and disappearing through a door at the other end of the hall. But the man remained, crossing his arms over his chest and choking back the tears as he shook his head.
"I made a promise," he muttered, as if Leonard or I knew what that meant, and we both nodded as if we did.
On a gurney, we rolled the tiny body of Travis McDonald through the hallway and out the front door, with his father trailing behind all the way. He stood at the bottom of the stoop, watching on as we loaded the hearse. I couldn't imagine watching. I couldn't imagine wanting to.
But then again, my personal experience with loss was much different from this. Much darker.
A young mother's life, taken by the contents of a needle in a dark, frigid, mean alley, and a small four-year-old boy's decision to hurry away with his crying baby brother in search of whatever help he could find in the dead of night.
I never looked back, afraid that if I did, I’d never be able to leave my mother’s cold body behind.
Travis's father couldn't stop looking.
Every few seconds, I glanced over my shoulder to find him slumping further and further against the mailbox at the bottom of the steps, his face crumpling and the tears streaming down his cheeks.
I knew I was bearing witness to his heart crumbling, little by little, and I felt that weight against my chest again.
Empathy.
Leonard closed the back of the hearse and glanced into my eyes. Then he approached the broken man.
"Mr. McDonald, once again, my sincerest condolences."
"I would …" The man gasped, clutching a hand to his chest. "God, it hurts. This hurts so damn much.”
“I know,” Leonard replied, laying his hand on the man’s shoulder.
“I would give anything just to hear him laugh … one more time. Just one more time."
"The pain of losing a child … a son … is one I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy," Leonard replied. "Something about it feels so … unnatural and wrong."
Something in that statement flicked at my brain, and I fought the urge to react.
Leonard has a son? Had?
Then, before I could linger on the thought, something caught my attention from the corner of my eye. Movement. I turned and saw a girl about Isaac's age. Thirteen, fourteen maybe. Long black hair and pale skin peeked out from between towering shrubs along the McDonalds’ fence.
My heart jolted, jerked, and tugged, and on instinct, without a moment to think, I approached slowly, tentatively, and uttered a name I hadn't spoken aloud in five years.
"Anna?"
Those eyes widened for half a second, and I thought, somehow, I had found her. Somehow, our paths had crossed again, and she was here.
My heart thrummed excitedly as I moved quicker toward the screen of shrubbery, hoping to get a closer look at her, to really see her. Whole and good and okay.
"Anna!"
But those few seconds were fleeting, and then her gaze narrowed with suspicion and … fear? She turned quickly and ran, hurrying into the house next door and slamming the door shut behind her.
This girl had gray eyes.
Anna’s eyes were dark brown, nearly black.
A soul-piercing loss shattered the cold brick walls I'd built around my heart, and I wilted on the spot.
It wasn't her.
How many times had I thought I saw her face? On the streets, in schools, in framed pictures of fake families being sold in stores. And every single moment ended the same—with my heart left cracked open, bleeding out all over again.
"Bram?" Leonard called out with concern and curiosity.
I swallowed my pride, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Then I turned and hurried to the passenger side of the hearse, ignoring the look on his face.
"Let's go," I grunted before climbing in and slamming the door shut.
***
"Do you want to talk?" Leonard asked after we'd been driving for a few minutes.
I had wondered when he was going to bring it up. I had hoped he wouldn't, but I also knew the old guy couldn't help himself. I might not care enough about most things, but Leonard's problem was that he cared too much.
"Nothing to talk about."
"Well, you seemed pretty upset back there, so I was thinking—"
"Nope."
He pulled in a deep breath and pursed his lips. I knew he wasn’t going to leave it alone. I knew he'd say something else. But what he was going to say, ask, do … I couldn't be sure, and that uncertainty left me queasy and sweating.
"Do you want to tell me who Anna is?"
"Do you want to tell me about your son?" I fired back angrily, not wanting to talk about her with him or anyone.
Leonard exhaled and nodded. "Sure, I'll tell you about my son. His name was Jacob. He was twenty-three when he passed. Motorcycle accident."
His responses were clipped, but his voice held the same softness he always spoke to us with. Like he wanted to get it over with, but didn't want to be mistaken for being rude. As if Leonard could ever be considered such a thing as rude.
"When?"
"Oh, that happened …" He rubbed his fingertips against his chin for a moment, then replied, "I guess it was about fourteen years ago now. Wow, fourteen years … feels like yesterday sometimes."
I turned away to stare out the window. "Do you have other kids?" Funny, I had known the man for a year and never thought to ask before.
"No, just Jacob. My wife and I were never lucky enough to have more."
Wife.
"Hmm," I grunted, nodding.
I hadn't known Leonard had been married either.
I’d never been able to trust anyone before, but this man came along, offering food and shelter, and I took him at his word without knowing a single thing about him.
How stupid could I be?
But maybe it wasn’t him I trusted. Maybe it was my intuition. Maybe I’d simply known enough shitty people to know when one decent man stumbled into my life, and I’d blindly trusted that.
"Lisa passed away a few years ago," he answered, as if reading my mind. "Pneumonia."
"Sucks," I muttered. "I didn't know you—"
"Ah," he interjected, waving his hand dismissively. "It's life, Bram. We never know what it's going to throw at us or what lessons we're going to learn along the way. All we can do is persevere and find the little sparks of light within the darkness. That's what makes it all worth it."
I snorted, thinking about the McDonald family and the tremendous loss they'd just suffered.
"Little sparks," I mocked with a snicker and shake of my head. "What if it's just pitch-black everywhere?"
"Is that what you think?"
“It’s what I know,” I challenged.
He didn’t push the subject the way I’d thought he might. He simply left it alone as we drove toward the funeral home. I couldn’t wait to get back. Couldn’t wait to smoke that cigarette. Couldn’t wait to get rid of thoughts about Travis McDonald and—
“Who is Anna, Bram?”
Closing my eyes, I twisted my lips and spit, “No one.”
“Doesn’t seem like no one. Actually, it seems like she’s the exact opposite of no one.”
“Drop it,” I demanded in a low, angry tone.
“Was she … a girlfriend?”
Hot, fiery rage unfurled from my belly as I turned to face him and shouted, “Shut up, Leonard!”
“Not a girlfriend, okay. Was she—"
“I said, shut the fuck up!”
His lips closed in an instant, his brow furrowed and his cheeks red. He shriveled back a bit, like I’d just slapped him across the face, and good. Fucking good. Maybe he’d listen now. Maybe he’d learn to keep his mouth shut and keep his nose out of shit that was none of his damn business.
I looked out the window at the passing trees and businesses and power lines. The urge to jump out of this car and run as far away as I could go zipped through my veins, tickling at my bones.
But Ike and Shawn would be back from school soon, and I couldn’t leave them behind.
I’d need to wait for them, pack our shit.
We could slip out in the middle of the night and get as far away from The Llewellyn Family Funeral Home as possible.
Away from this fucking old man who couldn’t mind his own damn business.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” Leonard said apologetically. “I just care about you. You do understand that, right? I care.”
The second those words were uttered, my anger was washed away by overwhelming despair, and I had to bite my bottom lip to keep it from wiggling.
Fuck.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t do emotions.
“You don’t have to tell me who she was,” he went on quietly. “I’ll leave it alone. But if you want to talk, if you want to—"
“I know,” I muttered. “You’re there.”
He reached out and gripped my shoulder, giving it a little squeeze as he said, “I am. Always.”
Then, as we pulled into the driveway with little Travis McDonald, the sky opened up, and the rain began to fall, washing away every bit of hope that I’d one day find one of the only little sparks I’d ever known.
Anna.
Closing my eyes, I pictured her, screaming and reaching out for me. Her stuffed rabbit tumbling from her arms and onto the floor.
God, I hope she turned out okay.