“Mr. Griffin? You can come on back now.”
It’s after three in the morning, and I’m back home. I try to sleep, but I can’t. My thoughts won’t stop racing, and my heart won’t calm down. I don’t care what that nurse said. My heart doesn’t feel normal.
There’s also a strange surge of guilt. I know I shouldn’t feel it, but I do. The hospital was forced to call the police to report the incident. I talked to a police officer who took my statement. I hadn’t intended to press charges, and I still might not. It feels like a situation gone terribly wrong rather than a malicious attack. That’s the very reason I feel guilty. I don’t want his son taken from him. Actions have consequences, and what he did was so wrong. While I’m dang angry, I’m not at the point where I want to see his son’s life ruined over this.
I wonder if I’ll get my old self back after this.
What I need is to talk to Calvin. But I can’t. He’s got enough on his plate.
Chapter 17
Calvin
Braedengripsmyarmpainfully, and his face is buried in my arm as he cries. I adjust myself so I can wrap my arm around him and let him get it out into my jacket. His slight body trembles, barely holding himself together on a molecular level. One stiff breeze, and he’s a poof of exploding atoms.
This shit hasgotto be hard on him. Hell, I’m barely holding it together myself. My eyes water as the minister says the last words at the two caskets, sitting side-by-side. Marisa and Robert took ‘until death do us part’ to the next level. It’s poetic in a fucked-up way. It’s fucking tragic, is what it is.
“A circle, a journey, a river, a path—life and death are part of us all,” says the minister.
The few friends who are there are all crying and holding each other. I don’t know any of them. It’s another reminder of how out of touch I was with Marisa and Robert, who were supposed to be my best friends. I’m not sure this feeling of regret and guilt will ever go away. The bare minimum I can do for them now is watch over their son.
I continue to hold Braeden as they lower the caskets into the graves. I pinch my eyes closed as the tears fall freely. As if sensing what’s happening, the boy clings tighter to me, refusing to look.
There’s something final about lowering caskets into their resting spots. That last bit of denial that their deaths are real is obliterated with the sprinkling of soil. This is where they will be until the end of time, or until they’re nothing but the soil they’re mingled with.
It’s a tough pill to swallow, knowing that’s the fate for every single one of us. It puts things into perspective, showing how short life really is. Too many people squander their lives with pettiness and hate. Hell, I’ve been known to do a little squandering myself. At the end of the day, our feelings won’t matter. We will all eventually be forgotten.
As the crowd disperses, they try to approach Braeden and offer their condolences, but he isn’t being responsive. He refuses to leave the safe place in my jacket. I shake hands with a couple of people before they move on.
“Will you be at the reception?” a woman asks.
I look down at the top of Braeden’s head. “I don’t think he’s up for it. Thank you.”
She smiles kindly. “I understand.” She rests a hand on the boy’s shoulder before moving on.
Once everyone is gone, I ask him, “It’s done, and everyone is gone. Would you like to say goodbye to them before we leave?”
He sits up straight, sniffs, and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. I take out my pocket square from my suit jacket and hand it to him. He blows his nose, then shoves it into his suit pocket.
Braeden stands and slowly makes his way over to the two graves before he looks over at me. His face is pale, his eyes are red and wet. I ache for him. “Can I be alone for a minute?”
“Sure, kiddo.”
I stand and make my way toward my car, which is parked on a little road leading into the cemetery. I lean on the car and watch him from a distance.
Meanwhile, I rub my face, feeling suddenly older than my years. My fortieth birthday is coming up way too fast. Next month. I’m fucking dreading it.
Braeden doesn’t stay at his parents’ graves for long before heading back to me. I don’t know whether he said anything to them, or if he stood there wishing his life were someone else’s. In the end, I hope this service gave him some closure.
It’s close to dinnertime when we get back to our hotel room, where Braeden curls into a ball and takes a nap. As he does that, I order us some food from room service. Neither of us has eaten much today.
After removing my shoes, suit jacket, and tie, I stretch out on the bed and swipe my phone open. I’d expected some texts from Seth. He’s the type to check up on us, as he does frequently, but there’s nothing. Maybe he’s giving me space and time with Braeden.
I glance over at his back, stand, and sit on the edge of his bed, resting my hand on his shoulder. He cranes his head back to look at me before he turns away.
“I guess you don’t want to talk, huh?”
He says nothing, but I know he hears me. I know he’s listening. His lack of response is an answer in itself.
