He never learned how Frances had known that he was having difficulties. His back had been to her. Seth quickly wiped the tears so she did not see the evidence that she had been right and cleared his throat. “Men do not cry.”
“You are not yet a man. You are only five and ten.”
Seth pulled back as if slapped and turned to gape at her.
“What does make a man?” she asked. “Or when does a boy become a man?”
Seth frowned at her because he did not have that answer. He’d argue that he was now a man given his voice had gotten deeper and other changes in his body made him such. But was it more?
“And why are men not allowed to cry?”
“It just is not proper,” Seth answered.
“Is that a rule?”
“Quit asking silly questions.” He had not wanted to have the discussion.
“It is not a silly question. I truly wish to know. Why can men not cry?”
“They just do not.”
“So, by some arbitrary rule of which you do not know the reason you are going to prevent yourself from crying because you are not supposed to.”
“Yes.”
“That is stupid!” Frances declared. “I have cried many times since I lost my parents and brother.”
“Because you are a girl.”
“Does that mean I am allowed to feel that loss and express it whereas you are not? Does Society assume that I feel my losses deeper than you do the loss of your twin and stepmother?”
Seth gasped at her audacity and turned away and stared down at the rosebush he still held. “It does not matter. I should go.”
“You mean you need to run away from what you are experiencing.”
He hated that she was correct and even though he wished to escape her, this conversation, and the pain inside, he could not make his feet move.
Frances walked to him and placed a hand on his arm, which was nearly his undoing.
“She was your twin. You have every right to mourn. The loss must burn deeply in your soul.”
It filled his entire being and as much as he tried to fight the emotion his eyes once again began to fill with tears.
“I think a man is someone who can acknowledge the emotions he possesses without embarrassment. To fully embrace love and loss without pushing it aside because it may not be deemed acceptable.”
He pulled his arm away from her hand because her words and touch were destroying his resolve to remain strong as a man should be.
“You have the right to mourn the loss of your sister even if you can only do so in privacy.”
Except, this wasn’t private because Frances, a thirteen-year-old girl, would not leave him alone.
And as much as he fought the emotions, the tears rushed to the surface and no matter how hard he tried to shove the pain back inside, it was impossible.
The pressure had been building for so long that it could no longer be contained and erupted. Seth dropped to his knees on the crumbling terrace and sobbed like an inconsolable child and could not make himself stop. Worse, Frances was beside him, kneeling, her arm around his shoulders. Seth gave up the fight and leaned into her, and she held him as the tears that he’d likely been holding in since he first came under the belief that men do not cry. The entire time all she did was rub her hands up and down his back, soothing and comforting, much like a mother does with a distraught child.
When his tears had finally stopped, Seth was also spent and unable to move. The pressure from within was gone, but the loss remained and the pain somewhat lessened. Further, he was exhausted.
He sniffed and pulled away from Frances and searched for his handkerchief, but it was in his suitcoat, which had been discarded so that he could begin helping Frances.
