Keeping himself closed off only trapped the pain within him.
Hurting the people he cared about always ended up hurting him more.
And this last one wasn’t an easy lesson to learn, but it was a vital part of growing up—love doesn’t heal all wounds. He needed to reach into the depths of his soul to find the strength to face his demons on his own. He had caused so much devastation that night and he needed courage to finally own up to it.
With uncertainty weighing down his every move, he tapped lightly on the door. She turned her head towards him and after he saw anger flash in her eyes, she turned back to the window. She said nothing, merely tapped the empty spot on the bed beside her and he took that as an order to sit down. He nervously made his way across the room and did exactly what she asked.
Loaded silence filled the space between them as he waited for her to say something. Eventually, she did.
“You didn’t come to the funeral,” she said, her gaze still fixed on the window.
“I thought…” He made an attempt to swallow the hard lump in his throat and failed. “I thought you didn’t want me there.”
Livid brown eyes immediately met his, and then it came out of nowhere. She slapped him, the same slap of practiced restraint. Too soft to cause pain, but hard enough to let him know she was pissed.
“You shut your mouth,” she bit out. “You don’t get to make those kind of decisions for me. Ineededyou there.”
He couldn’t even respond to that. No excuse was good enough and the truth of the matter was that he’d just been too much of a coward to face her. He lowered his head, the shame and guilt already making it impossible for him to look her in the eye.
“For the longest time, your mother and I have shared our sons and now mine is gone and she gets to keep hers?” She was still angry and she forced his chin up so he would look at her. “No! It doesn’t work like that. You’re my boy too, Kevin. You’re my boy too…Look at where I am. I lost my son, my world. He was everything to me…but to lose you too…my heart couldn’t take it.”
“How can…” He shook his head in disbelief. “How can you say that…when you know what I took from you?”
She was quiet for a long time, her face expressionless and he didn’t have a clue what she was thinking.
“You know…my Perry hated wearing a seatbelt. Did you tell him to put on his seatbelt?”
Memories of that night flashed through his mind and he had to shut his eyes to block out the images. “I did,” he responded unsteadily. “I told him a couple times.”
“You were driving that night?”
He didn’t know why she asked that. She already knew the answer. “Yes.”
“And you were drinking that night?”
That question made his jaw clench and he dropped his head again, unable to look at her when he answered. “Yes.”
“Were you drunk?”
He remembered being sober. He just couldn’t remember if he’d been sober the entire night, or just after the accident. He’d opened more than a dozen beers, but he didn’t know how much he’d actually consumed. “I don’t know, Momma B.”
“You know,” she said, placing a gentle hand over his. “The test said you had the equivalent of less than one beer.”
“It doesn’t matter what it said! The fact is we were all drinking…and I should never have gotten behind the wheel.”
This was becoming too much. It was one thing to relive that night in his mind. It was another thing entirely to talk about it. Hearing the words out loud solidified every stupid decision he’d made, decisions that led to consequences he couldn’t live with.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “Allof you acted irresponsibly and it makes me angry as hell every time I think about it.” She paused, allowing him time to accept that subtle scolding. “There are things I wish I could have done differently too. It’s not like I didn’t know what all of you were going to be doing. I should have never let him leave the house. That’s the guilt I have to live with, but I’ve come to accept that nothing I did or didn’t do would have changed what happened. He would’ve snuck out of the house anyway.” She let out a sorrowful sigh. “Kevin…I know this is hard for you, but there’s one more thing I want to ask you.”
He didn’t like her questions. They were torture. Everything he’d been running away from for four months was condensed into her questions, but he reminded himself of the reason why he was there. He wasn’t there for forgiveness. He needed to own up to what he’d done and it didn’t matter how excruciating it wasfor him to face the truth, he’d take all of it if it helped her in some small way.
“What do you want to know?” he asked apprehensively.
“You hit something in the road.”
It was a statement, not a question, but he nodded his answer.
“Tell me…do you think that…if you weren’t driving…and if you weren’t drinking…whatever you hit would’ve still been there?”
