We come to a slow stop just outside the town hall. There’s a duo up on the landing of the steps. A young man sits behind a keyboard, and a young woman stands behind another bedazzled microphone. The skin-tight sequined dress she wears shimmers like liquid metal against her deep, ebony skin.
When the crowd settles, the pianist plucks the first chords ofMary, Did You Know.
The pit in my stomach deepens. I’m transported to the chapel on the first floor of the Children’s Hospital. My hands shake as they did then, sitting in the back pews of the Church, asking God for a miracle that would never come.
The woman singing has an angelic voice, and she sings the same words that I heard that night, sitting back there, knowing my son was gone. I remember wondering what Juno’s destiny had in store for him, a destiny he would never get to know. Marie would never know. I would never know.
My steps falter as I retreat from the crowd. The icy air I suck in on a sharp inhale burns my throat. Everything spins, and I can’t stop the tears from coming. They stream down my face in overflowing streams. I find a raised garden bed framed by thick brick, brush the snow off its surface, and sit with my face in my hands.
I let the sobs consume my body, not really caring who sees me.
I almost start wishing that it had been me instead, again, when I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. My eyes widen when I see Jiraiya looking down at me.
“You alright?” He asks. It’s the kindest I’ve ever heard his voice sound, and the first time I’ve felt like my presence was not an inconvenience to him.
“This song,” I clear my throat. “It’s attached to…to.” I choke on the rest of the sentence and shake my head instead.
He brushes the snow next to me away and plops down beside me. “You know, Gayle, when she lost her dad, she wasn’t able to grieve the way she should have,” he says. I stare straight ahead, refusing to look another grown man in the eyes while I’m crying.“When she first came here,” he continues, “even though it wasn’t the best circumstances, it was the first time she could just…exist. Little things would get to her. Normal, everyday activities that wouldn’t affect her at all the day before, on some days, would completely stifle her. She would spend hours in bed justcrying.I felt so helpless. Never felt like I was doing enough to help her. One day it just dawned on me, that being there was all she needed. To know she’s not alone and never will be again.”
To know she’s not alone and never will be again.
It echoes and echoes in the emptiness that overwhelms me. Because I am alone. And the person I thought was going to be that for me, my reminder that I’m not, left. Someone I created a life with and built a life for, walked away and never looked back because my grief didn’t look like hers.
Jiraiya rests his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. I look over at him, arrested by the sincerity behind his eyes. Tears spill down the sides of my face again, and this time, I don’t look away. I let this stranger hold space for me, share some of my pain.
He nods, slowly.
It’s as if my body needed the permission, because the floodgates open and my body shakes with tears I didn’t realize I still had to shed. My heart hurts, for my baby boy. He should be here.
He should be here and he’s not.
He’s not here, and it’s fucking Christmas.
I don’t expect Jiraiya to bring me in for a hug, but I take it. I squeeze this brother in an embrace that reminds me I’m still here, even if I’ve lost and lost and fucking lost, and he’s here too. He sees me, although he doesn’t know me. He sees me, and right now that’s enough.
I retrieve the handkerchief from my coat pocket, dabbing the wetness under my eyes and feeling so much lighter. I haven’t had a release like that since…since after the funeral.
When we both stand, I extend my hand for Jiraiya to shake. He places his firm grip in mine, and I cover it with my other hand in a silent thank you.
“There you are,” Gayle’s voice startles us both out of the moment. The light that fills Jiraiya’s eyes when he sees his wife spreads over the rest of his face. A similar warmth blooms in my chest when I see Krystal standing next to her, her brows furrowed with concern as she rakes her attention over my face.
“What’s wrong?” She asks, the worry in her voice cracking my heart a little. I rest a hand on her lower back as I guide us back to the rest of the crowd. The town hall is dripping with thin string lights. It must have been a breathtaking scene watching them flicker on after the last performance. We missed our chance to hop on the back of the truck, but I’m grateful for the walk…need to feel the cold air against my skin.
“I just needed a moment,” I say, releasing a deep breath.
She nods, but doesn’t probe further. I can almost see the gears turning in the back of her mind trying to put it together. “I love the holidays,” I explain. “It still represents the hardest times of my life. I want to be here, and I want to celebrate. Doesn’t make it less painful.”
She scoffs. “Preaching to the choir, Santa.”
I’m surprised by the laughter that sputters out of me, and the smile that lingers after. I shouldn’t be, really; she has that power over me. I shake my head, watch my feet make indents in the snowy path.
“I admire you, you know? I didn’t go through shit compared to what you did, and you still believe in themagic of Christmas.”She wiggles her fingers, her somber expression contrasting with the chilling smile on her lips.
“And you don’t?” I deadpan, assuming I’m stating the obvious.
She shakes her head, her smile sobering to something more genuine. “I don’t know. It’s like, Iwantto hate Christmas, and at first, being here was a constant reminder of why I should. Then, at some point, being here became a constant reminder of everything Ilovedabout it.” Silence blankets us, and her pace slows to an eventual stop. I pause, turning to look at her. Her eyes shine, capturing my undivided attention like a steak in the sand. “Your resilience is inspiring, Nick. I thought you should know that.”
My brows jump, and my neck snaps back. The energy charges between us, both of us refusing to look away. I take a step towards her and feel the pull of her body to mine. Tension colors the atmosphere, lingering in all the empty spaces left between us — thickening. Her breathing grows heavy, her chest heaving with each haggard breath.
