“That’s okay, Ms. Miriam,” Benjamin said as he snuggled back in, satisfied.
Miriam and June shared a fond look over his sweetness. June would have done anything to save her son from the burden of having a lifelong illness, but she wasn’t going to object to getting some extra snuggles when he wasn’t feeling well. At seven, Benjamin was getting independent and so, so big. June loved to see him grow, of course, but she knew that those attached-at-the-hip toddler years were behind her, so she always made sure to enjoy the hugs that came her way.
“You guys are going to be okay without me?” June asked. She always asked, even though she knew what the answer would be.
Benjamin answered before Miriam could.
“Of course, Mommy,” he said, grinning in a way that showed a gap where he’d recently lost a tooth. “We’re going to watch two episodes of our show, then I’m going to win at checkers?—”
“Hey now!” Miriam protested jokingly. “I might win!”
“—then read books and go to bed,” Benjamin finished. He darted a sidelong glance at Miriam, then hid his face behind his hand and said to June, in a perfectly audible whisper, “I always win at checkers.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Miriam said, reaching around to tickle Benjamin as she spoke. “He’s just a boy. I’m a great checkers player.”
“No, you aren’t!” Benjamin’s words were practically lost in his peals of laughter.
June pressed her lips together against her own laughter. She was worrying over nothing… at least on Benjamin’s part.
“And you’re going to be a good listener for Ms. Miriam, right?” June prompted.
Another offended look from Benjamin, this one directed at his mother.
“I’m a really good listener, Mommy,” he said.
Miriam’s look wasn’t quite as insulted as the one that came from Benjamin, but it was close.
“I know what you’re up to, Juney,” she said chidingly. “I’m doing just fine. Benjamin and I are going to have a calm evening. Nothing too taxing for these old bones.”
“Or these young bones!” Benjamin chimed in.
June couldn’t hold her laughter back any longer at that comment, even if she was not entirely reassured. She knew that Miriam had been feeling her age a little more than usual recently, and while she appreciated both that Miriam offered to watch Benjamin regularly and that Miriam’s presence gave Benjamin a grandmotherly presence in his life, she didn’t want to be a burden to her friend.
“I’m good,” Miriam said, punctuating her point. “Go. Moms need breaks too.”
June was tempted to press the point, but she’d had this argument a hundred times before, and she knew how it would go. She would worry that she relied on Miriam too much; Miriam would counter that she loved Benjamin and that it was no burden at all. Then, if June still balked, Miriam would remind her that it could be lonely, living alone, which she had done ever since her husband had died decades before.
And then June would start to think about how she too, had been widowed too young, about how Benjamin had unjustly lost his father when he was only a baby, and then June’s cute outfit wouldn’t matter, not when she’d end up crying her eyes puffy in the car.
It didn’t matter that it had been years since Keith died. Grief still sometimes came for June and struck her like a sledgehammer. In some ways, she was grateful for the pangs of loss that still sometimes left her feeling that rush of agony she had felt in those first days after she’d lost her husband, her child’s father, her first love. Those jolts of sadness helped her feel as though Keith was still with her in a way. It felt like an act of remembering to continue to feel sad that he wasn’t here anymore, that he wouldn’t get to see Benjamin grow up into the wonderful, wonderful child that he was.
Connecting over their losses was one of the things that had brought June and Miriam together. Their friendship was about more than that pain, of course, but June really appreciated having someone who could understand that particular part of her history. Their other friends didn’t have the same experience, which, of course, June was glad for. She didn’t want them to suffer, obviously.
Losing someone, she had learned, was complicated. Grief was complicated.
“Go,” Miriam repeated, jarring June from her introspection. “Have fun. We’ll be here when you get back.”
“Okay, okay,” June said. She knew when she was beat. “Have fun, okay? I love you!”
Miriam blew her a kiss.
“Love you, Mommy!” Benjamin called.
June waved goodbye, and by the time she made it to the door, she could already hear Miriam and Benjamin cheerfully discussing the previous plot points in their show and their guesses about what would happen next.
June had a bittersweet smile on her lips as she grabbed her purse and headed out to her car.
“He’s pretty amazing, Keith,” she said to the quiet of her little car. Sometimes she just needed to talk to her late husband. Itwas just one more little way of keeping his memory alive. “I’m really worried about this diabetes thing, though. I hate seeing him so weary. But the doctor tells me it will normalize so I’m… holding on to hope.”
