Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
His childhood best friend. The two had a falling-out, and that’s when I came into the picture.
“He talked about AJ, but I never met him.”
“Yeah. He, uh…” She drew closer, nodding her head. “AJ talked to me a little about their argument. I think… I think Damian knew what was coming for him. AJ had just gotten married. Angie was pregnant, and I think it was hard for Damian to see that. Then he found you, and to be totally honest, I think he wanted to keep you all for himself, for as long as possible.”
Damian ’s mom was back in his life. He had the dog he’d always wanted. His childhood best friend was back in his life.
I was the one gone.
“I’m so sorry.” The dam broke. I didn’t even try to wipe my tears. It would’ve been pointless. “I’m so sorry I left him—”
“Oh, honey.” She caught me, her arms wrapping tightly around me. “No, no. Don’t think like that. You—it’s different for you than me, different than even with AJ. He’s my son. I had a husband. I had a family. And Damian’s my family—that’ll never change. The same with AJ. He has a family.”
She was trying to make me feel better, but it didn’t matter.
She was losing a son. AJ was losing a best friend.
“Hey!” She was more forceful, as if reading my mind. She caught my face in her hands and looked me in the eyes. “You are mourning. I know how much you loved him, and when you see him, it’s going to be a different grief. Because he’s still here, but he’s not the same Damian.”
More tears. They were choking me, damming up in my throat.
“He was going to be my husband.”
“I know,” she crooned. “I know, honey.”
“I wanted him to be the father of my children.”
“Oh, Charlie. I know. I’m so sorry.” She pulled me in, rocking me as if were a child. Her hand cradled the back of my head. “Damian knew this was coming, but he was living life as if it wasn’t going to happen. He loved you. I know he did. But I don’t want you to feel bad about not being here. Sometimes you have to step back, you have to heal, so then you can come back and be here for him. Because he’s not the same Damian you knew.”
“Is he…” I looked at her, my hands fisting her shirt, holding on like she was a lifejacket. “What’s he like now?”
“Happy.” She laughed, for the first time. She wiped some of her tears. “Sometimes they get happy and sometimes they don’t. He’s happy. I mean, that’s the typical day for him. There are days when he’s not, when he knows he’s slipping, and those days are hard.”
She went on, walking with me down the hall.
He got along with the other residents. They took care of him, doting on him like he was one of their grandchildren. And he had them watch movies, gave them stats on sports to impress their grandchildren.
I smiled at that. “He always did love sports so much.”
“Yeah.” Her arm linked with mine. “Sports and his dog. He always used to say that’s what he needed to be happy.”
Hearing my memory coming from her broke me again.
I felt a crack down the middle as I remembered the first time we’d kissed, how he’d felt like home, how I’d wondered if that was normal. Our first date—how it’d been uncomfortable until I made a joke about farting and he’d countered with a poop joke. We’d both laughed when the neighboring tables gave us looks of disgust.
I thought about the first time we’d told people we were dating—how proudly he had stood with me, holding my hand.
I remembered when I came home to a bouquet of roses on the table, how he’d stood to the side and waited until I saw the ring on one of the stems. How he was on his knees when I looked back.
I’d gotten two and a half years with him. Those years had been good. Laughter. Love. Kindness.
“He made me a sandwich one day and left it at my door.” I felt myself grinning. “He texted me while I was at the gym, and I was annoyed that I had to leave early to get the sandwich because he was worried my neighbor’s dogs would get it. That was before he had a key to my place.”
But then I’d realized how he took the time to make the sandwich, how he’d put a Hershey’s kiss in the bag with it, along with strawberries because he knew I loved both. It’d been the first of a long line of thoughtful little gestures he did for me.
He’d left a handwritten quote on my bedside table every morning for a full year.
He used to buy me chocolate muffins to share from my favorite deli.