Page 38 of Beyond the Hedge Maze

The rain was falling even faster, making it hard to see. The umbrella Oliver was desperately trying to use to shield them was useless as the rain fell in slanted sheets. He made another turn and laughed, a wretched sound that lacked any semblance of cheerfulness.

They were at the hydrangea wall again, the rain catching on the white petals of the flowers. The spot consistently called to them. He paused and looked at Oliver, completely soaked, his glasses dotted with water. He wanted to reignite the feelings he usually had when they were together in the maze. He would do anything to get rid of the sadness weighing him down.

Jesse grabbed the front of Oliver’s open rain jacket and pulled his mouth to his, kissing him hard. Oliver responded, but Jesse could tell it wasn’t the same, that his heart wasn’t in it. That he wasn’t buying into the diversion, the distraction. He broke the kiss to rest his forehead against Oliver’s chin, still gripping his jacket.

Oliver pressed his mouth against Jesse’s forehead, and the dam burst again. Heaving sobs fell from Jesse’s lips, his shoulders shaking.

“Okay, let’s…Let’s at least get out of the rain.”

He recognized Oliver’s pleading tone, but the sound was muffled, compressed. Oliver pulled him towards the stone bench and instead of sitting on it, he took off his jacket and sat on the ground. Oliver balled it up and stuffed it underneath the bench, laying on his back and shimming under it, his head, neck, and shoulders under the seat. Jesse was too upset to wonder what he was doing, so he followed him down.

“Come here,” Oliver said.

There was just enough room for Jesse to lay partially on his side, his face now resting on Oliver’s shoulder as Oliver’s arm wrapped around him. The rain continued to fall, continued to soak through their shirts, jeans, and shoes, but their faces were out of the worst of it.

It was quiet, both boys sniffling; Oliver from the rain, and Jesse from his crying. But Oliver didn’t push him. He waited patiently for Jesse to calm down, to gather his thoughts.

“My mom died six weeks ago.”

Jesse tried to remember all of the times he had spoken about her since she died, and came up short. His father refused to talk about her. His grandparents were already so devastated by her death that he didn’t feel like he could add to it. His friends didn’t really understand, couldn’t understand. The topic of death, of any of their parents dying, was uncomfortable and unimaginable.

Oliver’s breath caught. “Jesse…”

“It’s fine.”

Jesse closed his eyes and hoped that he hadn’t made the wrong decision to talk about her in this moment.

“It’s not. You don’t need to be fine.”

Oliver’s words hit him like a freight train. He didn’t realize how much he needed to hear them. All he had wanted for weeks was to not be fine. And the relief he felt when that expectation was lifted was overwhelming.

After another minute, Oliver asked, “How did she die?”

Jesse swallowed back another round of tears, most of which were angry. “A brain aneurysm. She went to bed with a headache, and just never woke up.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.” Oliver’s lips were in his hair, and Jesse let each kiss ground and stabilize him. “Do you want to talk about her?”

Desperately.

He desperately wanted to talk about her, more than just telling someone else about how she died, because that part wasn’t really important. He didn’t fault Oliver for being curious, he’d be the same, but that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about.

He wanted to talk about how he was afraid he’d forget her voice, or her laugh. How they used to debrief on their days before dinner, after Jesse had finished his homework. How she used to sing in the shower, horribly off pitch, and how if his father was home, he’d crack the door to the bathroom so her voice carried further into the house.

He wanted to tell someone how he worried that with her, she took the last bit of softness his father possessed.

How sometimes it scared him when his sadness turned into hopelessness.

But it was all too hard.

Voicing it aloud was another fistful of dirt dropped on her coffin.

“I miss her,” is what Jesse decided to say.

Oliver tilted Jesse’s chin up and bent awkwardly to kiss him. “I’m here for whatever you want to tell me. What was her name?”

Jesse smiled. “Ada.”

They stayed there until the rain slowed, and Oliver maneuvered them out from under the bench. “Let’s get warm.”