“First Dad, and now Dennis…” I can’t finish the sentence. I don’t have enough air in my lungs to finish that sentence. I lick my lips as I inhale through my nose. “Dennis was in an… accident,” I whisper. “A car accident.”
“Oh no. Is he okay?” Mom has me back in an embrace so fast, and I just cling to her, my legs threatening to buckle beneath me.
“No,” I rasp. “I don’t know. I… I just left.”
“You left from where? Sweetie, you’re not making any sense.” She guides me back to the chair and eases me down.
I wipe at the steady stream of tears trailing down my face. “The hospital. I couldn’t…” I look up at her, suddenly feeling so lost. “I couldn’t stay. I can’t do this. Not again.”
“Oh, my God,” she says, sitting down in front of me but not letting go of my hands. “Oh, my God.”
My phone starts ringing, vibrating against the table, and I almost jerk from my seat. Mom looks at it, but I shake my head frantically. She picks it up, looks at the screen, and answers the call.
“Jon. Oh my God. Is Dennis okay?” She nods a couple of times, relief coasting across her face. “Oh, thank God. That’s good, then. Yes, I have him here. I’ll tell him. He’s…” She looks at me, unshed tears in her eyes. “He’ll be okay. Yes, I will. See you there. Send Sarah my love. And thank you, Jon.” She ends the call and smiles tentatively at me.
“Dennis is going to be just fine. A mild concussion and a sprained ankle. They’re keeping him for the next 24 hours, but he’s fine.”
There’s that word again.Fine.
“I’ll make you some breakfast before you go to the hospital. Jon and Sarah are there waiting for you. Aaron’s there, too.”
“I’m not going,” I say.
“What do you mean? I’m sure Jon doesn’t expect you to go to work today. Not when Denn–” I get up in a rush, nearly tipping the chair over. “Michael!”
“I can’t do this. I’ll be in my room.” I try to move past her, but she moves in front of me, looking me dead in the eye. When she full-names me, I know I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.
“Michael Tanner, you talk to me right this minute.” She folds her arms in front of her chest, and although I tower over her by several inches, I shrink.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I mumble.
“Of course there is. Dennis is in the hospital, and you’re trying to hide away in your room and won’t tell me why.”
“That’s what you did!” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. Mom’s mouth twitches, but that’s the only sign that I’ve hit a nerve. I’ve never in my life been unkind to my mother because I love her more than anything, and regret courses through me immediately. “I mean…”
“You’re right,” she says, her gaze not leaving mine. “I did. I hid away in my room because the truth was too hard to deal with.Lifewas too hard to deal with.” Her voice is unwavering, and there’s a rare fierceness in her eyes. “But it was wrong, because I also hid from you, Michael. I left you to fend for yourself, and you were just a little boy.” She takes a step toward me, her body so close to mine.
“You were grieving, Mom.”
“So were you.”
“I…”
“Or perhaps you weren’t. Not really, now that I think about it. Because there was no room for your loss, was there?” She sniffles, and her eyes are wet. She waves her hand around the kitchen. “I don’t think there was enough room in this house for you to mourn the loss of your dad. I took up all of it with my grief. I took the space that should’ve been yours, too. I was so sad, so lost, but so were you.”
“It’s okay,” I cry. “He was your husband.”
“He wasyourfather. He was everything to you. It wasnotokay.”
“Mom, please.”
“No. You were just a little boy. If it hadn’t been for the Holbrooks, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”
“I’m fine. Really,” I try to reassure her, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears, and I don’t think that I am fine at all. “I don’t blame you. Not for any of it.”
“I know you don’t because that’s the person you are, Michael. You’re selfless and kind, and you take care of people. You took care of me. You still do. You won’t leave this house because you won’t leave me alone in it. Isn’t that right? You take care of everyone, but who takes care of you?”
“Dennis.” His name spills from my lips like a quiet prayer as I drop to my knees, crumbling in on myself. “Dennis takes care of me,” I tell the floorboards.
