The pain in his voice strikes my chest, but it’s his entire demeanor that has my heart crumbling. The once-vibrant gleam on his face is now dim, almost ashen. He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes, nor do his words that feel so heavy yet empty.
Grief is funny, he once said.
It is because one moment he’s smiling like he’s on top of the world and the next, he’s remembering a past memory and sheer sadness washes over him.
I step into him, wrapping my arms around his torso. He tenses, no doubt not expecting me to do this. “If you ever want to talk about Adrian, I’m here.”
He wraps his arms around my shoulder, his body sagging against mine. He doesn’t feel heavy but weightless.
“Besides baseball…” His voice is thick and gruff like he struggled to expel those words. “Music was our thing. We listened to almost everything.”
I hold him tighter. “Oh yeah? Is that why you have all those cassettes, vinyls, and CDs in your room?”
“You went into my room?” Daniel chuckles. His question isn’t accusatory but elated.
That was three weeks ago, on Valentine’s Day. “It’s not what you think. I was looking for you because of the flowers and you weren’t answering me.”
He hums. “Yeah, that’s why I have all of them. Some of them were Dad’s and others were the ones we bought at pawn shops. We thought they were cool, so we started collecting. I have manymore, but the others are back home. I would’ve brought them, but there’s not enough space.”
“You can put them in the living room.”
“I don’t want to?—”
“You live here, and I know I’m weird about how things are placed, but I don’t mind. I should’ve told you before. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. This is your house.”
“And now it’s yours.”
I feel his heart race against my chest as he holds me. “You’re not weird for liking your space clean.”
A rock lodges in the middle of my throat. I don’t like talking about this, but at this moment, in his embrace, my tongue goes lax.
“Mom hated clutter. She liked to keep things bare and simple; she’d spiral if they weren’t. She said in Mexico, in the house that she lived in, things weren’t great. She never really went into details, but she also never failed to remind me how good I had it. How she sacrificed herself to have what I have now. And as a reminder, she had me clean. Made sure I’d do it well too.” I brittlely chuckle. “No toys, no colors, no nothing. It became a norm I never deviated from.” I release a shaky breath. “But now that you live here, you can put things up and have things in the kitchen and living room. I promise I won’t stop you.”
“I will on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You let me help you clean.”
“No, I don’t want you to.” My brows furrow, feeling irked. I push away, but he still holds me. “I didn’t tell you so you’d feel bad for me. I’m telling you because?—”
He stares down at me patiently, gently. “I don’t feel bad for you. You shared, I listened, and now I want to do somethingabout it. I want to compromise. Don’t push me away, Josefine. Please, let me help.”
I falter, my lips parting before closing again. “I always clean alone. I like it done a certain way, and if it’s not done how I like, it makes me feel…overwhelmed.”
“Show me how you like it and I’ll do it that way too. Okay?” He tucks my hair behind my ear, then drags his knuckles along my cheek.
“I might get mad.”
“That’s okay.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’m serious too.”
“I tend to be a control freak. I’m not kidding.”
