I took a deep breath and tried to force myself to absorb his words. It was going to be hard. It was going to be so fucking hard not to constantly apologize to the people I loved when I was the reason they were in pain, even if that pain was out of my control.
Hopefully Mom’s therapist had been able to help her. The guilt after Zach’s death nearly crushed my parents. My diagnosis must have felt like added torture.
How the fuck were we going to get through this?
One day at a time,Brian had said.Just take it one day at a time for the foreseeable future, Ben. Don’t even think about tomorrow. Focus on the short term for now.
Boots was the first one to see me. He chased a rogue squeaky toy, bounding in my direction, and caught sight of me standing just past it. His little head whipped up, and then he let out a yip-bark and came barreling straight toward me, jaws wide, ears forward, tongue lolling out in excitement.
I picked him up and snuggled him to my chest. He started licking my neck, and I was too happy to have this wriggling, hyper baby animal in my arms to stop him.
“Benny,” Mom said.
I looked up. She and Dad had turned toward me. There was no easy way to put it; they looked like hell. Mom’s eyes were bloodshot. Her skin was pale and paper-thin. Dad looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.
I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,I wanted to tell them.
From the way Mom’s mouth pinched, it looked like she was holding in words of her own. Or tears.
Ella broke the tension. “Hey there, handsome,” she said, rising to greet me. She stood on her toes and planted a kiss on my cheek, like this was just another normal day, and then ruffled the fur between Boots’ ears. “Jack didn’t want to let these little rugrats go. They haven’t eaten yet. Did you want to feed them?”
Over the past few days, I’d put Brian on speakerphone a couple of times, so she could hear our sessions. He’d given us both advice onhow to work through our grief. She employed one of his tactics now: giving me something to take care of aside from myself.
I nodded and turned toward the kitchen. “Come on, Doodle.”
Ella stayed behind, putting the ownness of caring for the dogs on me alone. I heard muted conversation coming from the room as I walked down the hall, their voices low like they didn’t want them to carry. I was sure they were talking about me, but I wasn’t bothered by it. No doubt there would be a lot of similar conversations in my future. Better get used to them now.
I focused instead on the task at hand. On these small, simple motions. Taking the puppy food from beneath the cupboard. Picking up their bowls from the floor. Doling out the appropriate servings for their age and size. Setting them back down next to each other. Watching the dogs as they messily inhaled their lunch. Cleaning up after Boots when he stepped on the edge of his bowl and sent kibble bouncing all over the kitchen floor.
Ella joined me a few minutes later. “You hungry?”
“No. But I should eat.”
She opened the freezer. “What are you in the mood for? There’s lasagna, chicken soup, beef stew, chana saag, and chicken parm in here. Or there’s eggs and potatoes, or pancakes, or…” She turned away to search through a nearby cupboard for more options.
I walked over and pulled her into a hard hug.
“Oof, my ribs,” she said.
I loosened my arms. “Thank you for cooking so much food.”
“You’re welcome,” she said into my chest. “It served as a good distraction.”
“Benny?” Mom said from behind us.
Ella and I broke apart to see her and Dad in the doorway.
“Yeah?” I said.
“Your father and I were going to step out for a bit. Maybe grab a bite down in town, if that’s okay with you?”
“Of course,” I told them. How many days had they been housebound now? They must have been desperate to escape, if only for a few hours.
“Mind if we take the Jeep?” Dad asked.
“Go right ahead. The keys should be by the front door.”
“Make sure you take the back way,” Ella said from beside me. “You still have the directions I wrote out for you? Cell reception can be tricky up here.”
