36. Marcus Is a Good Man
Marcus Is a Good Man
Melody
“I’m sorry,” Marc whispered, still standing at the threshold.
“Oh, honey…” I lifted my arms to him, and he ran to me. If he hadn’t pulled back at the last minute, he would have slammed into me.
He hugged me, and I hugged him back. We didn’t say anything, but just held on, and years, and years of bitterness just disappeared in an instant. Like marks on the sand that was wiped away by a single wave.
I held him too tight, and he held me, too. I was shaking, and crying, trying not to make a sound or to move too much in case I ended up getting snot all over him. Nothing would ruin the moment more than getting boogers all over him.
“He wasn’t like that, Mel,” Marc said, straightening up, then dragging a kitchen seat across the ground to sit by me.
“He taught me how to make a porch. He started talking to me about how to fix the soffits and replace the drains. We talked about school, and Jon-Williams, and Roy, and guys like that. He doesn’t like it when I’m mean to you.
But he was never mean to me when you were gone. ”
Marcus was hunched in front of me, absolutely miserable.
“Can you get me my phone?” I whispered to him.
He grabbed it and handed it to me without any attitude or question.
I dialed the pizza place.
“He’s really nice. And he told me how much he loves you,” Marc blurted as the phone rang.
“Hey Lisa, it’s Melody Gray. Yeah.” The owner of the pizza joint mumbled some greetings, but I could hear from the bustling and shouting how busy the place was. Not the time for small talk. “The usual, for delivery.”
“Oh, I’m sorry Mel, we don’t have a delivery driver right now. Can you do pick up?”
I almost let out a sigh. I couldn’t drive on my meds, and I wasn’t so sure about the wheelchair. I could hoist myself into the seat, but I’d need help to get out, to fold the seat, or…do anything.
My first thought was wondering if I could ask Greg to get it, but I’d blown up that bridge. I needed him. I needed help. And I’d overreacted.
“I’ll get it,” Marc said, reaching for my keys with the fuzzy ball at the end.
“Will you?” I asked, just to be sure.
“I can drive.” He gave me a watery smile. “I wanna help more in the house.”
I smiled and put my palm against his cheek.
I was so proud of this boy.
“Okay, pick up will be fine, Lisa. Can I pay ahead of time?”
I hung up and placed my phone on the table, face up—a sign of absolute, delusional optimism—in case I got a call from someone with green eyes.
But no call came as the sun started setting.
And Marc, bless him, sat with me, staring at the screen as well.
When it came time for him to leave, he took my keys and gave me a one-armed hug.
A hug that maybe wasn’t just a hug, but also an apology.
The kind that told me it’d be okay, even though we both knew it wouldn’t be.
“You’re a good kid, Marc.”
“I’m not, but maybe I could be a good guy, one day. Like…” He shrugged “Like Greg.”
I tried not to cry.
“Sweetheart, you don’t need him around to become a good man. You already have all the ingredients in you.”