Yes. I wanted to say, but my voice catches in my throat. Yes, I’m the same boy who used to scramble onto this very porch, clutching old library books. Determination coursing through my veins to decipher the written word.
Now…I’ve grown up. Forced into adulthood at a young age at the hands of my father.
“Yes, Ms. Tibball?” I finally say when I find my voice. Deeper than when she knew me all those years ago. Not quite baritone, more tenor.
Her smile widens, reaching her eyes. “My goodness, look at you. You haven’t changed a bit.” I chuckle because it’s true. I’m still the same height as I was when I was a sophomore in high school. “Come on in, dear boy. Don’t just stand there on the porch looking like a lost puppy. Though a very handsome lost puppy, I might add.”
I feel the heat rise in my neck from her compliment.
Jason follows me into the house, and I flinch when I realize I never introduced the strangers.
“Ms. Tibball, this is my…boyfriend, Jason,” I tell her, hoping she doesn’t have a problem with me being gay like my father did.
“Oh, sweetie, that makes me happier than you know.” She tells me before turning her attention to the tall man beside me. “Jason, it’s a pleasure meeting you. I hope my Benny is taking good care of you.” She teases.
“More like he’s taking good care of me,” I tell her.
“We take care of each other,” Jason says, putting his arm around my waist and pulling me into his side.
“That’s how any good relationship should be.
We follow her lead and head into the cozy living room. It’s like coming home. The room is filled with the scent of lavender and old paper, from the stacks of books not only filling the bookcases but also lying on the end tables and coffee table. The sun beams through the lace curtains, illuminating dust motes that dance through the air.
“It’s been…a while,” I say, my gaze sweeping over the familiar room.
“Far too many,” she agrees, gesturing towards the couch. “Please, sit you two. You look like you could use a good sit-down.” That’s what she used to call it when I was a kid, and I hada lot going on at school and needed someone to talk with. “And I was just about to put the kettle on. I might even have some of those peanut butter cookies you used to love.”
“That sounds… wonderful, Ms. Tibball,” Jason tells her, gripping my hand in his. He turns and offers me a genuine smile.
“Seeing you sitting there brings back so many memories,” Ms. Tibball says. “I remember those afternoons so clearly. Your determined little face. Your finger tracing each word. You gasping in triumph when a sentence finally clicked into place. It wasn’t just about teaching you to read, for me; it was about opening a door to a world of endless possibilities.”
I wipe a tear that slips free.
When the tray is set on the coffee table, the delicate china makes a soft clinking sound. I reach over, pick up one of the peanut butter cookies, and place it on a napkin to catch any crumbs that may fall.
Jason picks up a steaming teacup.
“So,” Ms. Tibball begins, taking a sip of her tea, “what brings you back to this neck of the woods? Are you visiting…um, family?”
I take a bite of my cookie, trying to buy some time to settle my nerves.
“I never stopped thinking about the years next door to you. The time mom and I spent in the garden is a memory that will never be forgotten. I’ve been feeling this…pull. It’s been happening a lot lately. I never had the chance to say goodbye. It’s like…like a piece of me was always unsettled.” I admit. My voice is no louder than a whisper.
“Oh, Benny,” she says softly, holding a wrinkled hand to her chest. Her voice was thick with emotion. “You never got closure, and it’s been eating at you.” She stands and walks over to me, her arms outstretched. I stand and let her hug me. It’s almost likehugging my mom. Her floral perfume fills my senses. “You don’t need to thank me. Ever. It was my pleasure. Seeing you thrive, that’s the real reward.”
Gratitude for this moment warms me from the inside. “But I do. You really helped me. I remember feeling so stuck, like the words were just a jumble. You were the one who…who helped me unlock it all.”
“I always knew you had it in you, Benny,” she says, her smile radiant. “Your spark just needed the right kind of fuel.” She glances at Jason and winks.
Jason chuckles. A warm, full sound.
We continue catching up on the years apart. As I lean back against Jason on the couch, a comfortable ease settles between all of us.
After filling Ms. Tibball in on how I ended up in Rockport Ridge and working at Peonies and Petals, she fills me in on the nurse who bought the house next door–my old house. Dad moved a couple of years ago. She only ever saw him in passing, but he seemed to be gone more than he was home.
We share a few more tears along with laughter from times past. It was a beautiful reminder that even after long stretches away, the most wonderful connections can bloom again, as vibrant and hopeful as they once were.
While Jason and Ms. Tibball discuss teaching and bond over classroom stories, I excuse myself.
