Mine Would Be You (82)

Looking back, we should’ve known something was wrong. He wasn’t usually sentimental, and I should’ve fucking known. But I didn’t. Now I’m sitting in my childhood bedroom with no dad to call, no dad to talk to, and no way to process anything.

I haven’t talked to Nina since I told her, and that weighs me down too, sits on me like a weight, pushing and pushing. Adding to the guilt I feel at not coming home earlier, not spending more time with Dad despite practically living in the hospital room, not seeing something was wrong.

I still remember the way she held in her own tears on the phone. It was a Wednesday, and as soon as I was out of the hospital room, desperate for fresh air, I had called her.

She was breathless when she answered with a soft hello, and everything came crashing down. I’ll never forget how I felt saying the words out loud to someone who wasn’t my family.

“Hey.” My voice had choked up almost instantly.

“Jackson?” she said, hesitant and pacing in the background. “You can tell me.”

I wanted to disappear. “My dad is gone. He’s not here anymore.”

He’s not here anymore. I think those were the hardest words I’d ever said in my life. The silence was deafening and had stretched between us as she searched for something to say. But we both knew there was nothing to be said.

“I wish there was something better to say, but I’m here for you, however I can be.”

She’d talked me through a mini breakdown or a rant or whatever one can call it. I ranted about Veah, how she won’t admit she’s not okay, how she keeps asking us if we’re okay when we all know she isn’t and that none of us are. Mateo left almost instantly and has been in and out ever since, avoiding all of us. Mom didn’t say anything at first, just cried.

Now, I haven’t talked to Nina since. Three whole days I’ve spent living in a weird haze of a world. And I feel like an asshole, but I’m barely functioning as it is, trying to keep my family together, trying to check on them, and if I talk to Nina, she’ll make it okay for me to break down fully, and I don’t have time for that. I don’t have time to not be okay.

Not with the funeral tomorrow.

There’s a knock on my door, and it pushes open, my mom appearing. Her dark skin is duller than usual, tired, but she’s still my mom, and she isn’t crying, and it makes me feel just a fraction better.

She sits next to me. “You ready for tomorrow?” she asks, and I nod and then shake my head. My eyes flicker up to my suit that’s hanging up on the door to my bathroom.

“No. Are you?”

She sighs deeply, leaning her head on my shoulder. “No. I’m not.”

I wrap an arm around my mom, the women that adopted me, made me feel loved and needed, and hold her close.

“I miss him so much already.”

My eyes prick, and I stare up at the ceiling, willing the tears away. My mom doesn’t need to see me cry, she needs me to make sure she gets through tomorrow. “Me too, Mom. It doesn’t seem the same. Everything seems off.”

We sit together in silence for a bit. Somehow, even though he hasn’t been here the entire time since I’ve been home, the house feels quieter. Emptier. My mom pats my leg, turning to look at me. “Did you tell Nina about the funeral?”

Guilt pricks again. “No. She has to work and has a life, and I’ll just see her when I go back.”

My mom sighs. “She’d want to be here for you, you know that, right?”

Deep down I do know that. But I cannot face everything yet, and Nina will bring it out of me as soon as I see her. “Yeah.”

She pats my leg like she used to do right before she was gonna say something important. “I know what you’re doing.” I look up. “You’re being the big brother. My first son. You’re trying to take care of us, and I love you for it, but you’ve gotta take care of you too. And asking for someone you care about to be with you when you need them is not weak. It’s strong.”

She goes on. “I love you so much, baby, and your dad did too. But it’s okay to let it out and to lose it like the rest of us. This is hard, and it’s going to be hard for a long time, but if you bottle it up, it’s just going to get heavier.” She pats my cheek. “And if you keep it in too long, I’ll never get my sunshine boy back. While you’re taking care of us, please make sure you’re taking care of you too. It’s what your dad would’ve wanted. It’s all he ever wanted.”

“Mom,” I sigh as she stands.

“No. You don’t have to listen to me now. It’s okay.” She smiles for the first time, a sad one but a smile. “I just worry about you sometimes, okay? I’m a mom, please let me worry.”

She wipes her hands on her light blue jeans and leans down, cupping my cheeks like when I was a kid. We look nothing alike. Never have and never will, but she is my mom through and through, and my dad was my dad. I wouldn’t have asked for anything else on this earth but the life they gave me.

Mom squeezes my face and kisses my forehead. “Let’s just get through tomorrow together, okay?”

I stand up and hug her tightly. “I love you.”

I just hope we get out on the other side.

• • •

The first thing that happens when we get to the funeral is a bunch of old firefighters greet me instantly. My dad used to volunteer when I was younger and was always around and hanging out with his old friends. The former chief, Collin, my dad’s best friend, hugs me tightly, patting my back before grabbing my mom’s hand.