Protecting Her(115)

“He was trying to help you,” Charles says. “He said you were upset last night and he thought this would make you feel better.”

“Well, he was wrong. He only made it worse.”

“Garret didn’t know that. He thought he was helping. He spent all afternoon setting this up. Making that sign. Helping me with the pizza. He thought you’d be happy. And then you yelled at him.”

Guilt clouds over my anger as I think about what Charles said. He’s right. Garret would never do this to hurt me. In his mind, he thought he was helping me. And the fact that he even wanted to help me, after the way I’ve acted toward him, just shows how caring he is, just like Rachel.

“He was trying, Pearce. Garret was trying desperately to get through to you. He’s been trying for months. He’s trying to get his father back.”

“Don’t lecture me about being a father.” I feel my anger return. What Charles said is true. I know it is, but I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear how I’ve failed my son. I don’t need to be reminded of what a horrible father I am. “You don’t have children, Charles. You don’t know what it’s like.”

“No, I don’t. But I’m not blind, and I can see what’s going on here. You’re still grieving the loss of your wife. I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you, but it’s also hard for your son to go on without his mother, and you’re not there for him. He’s struggling, Pearce. Just like you are. But you won’t talk to him.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I can’t. I’m not ready to.”

“Then you need to get him into counseling. Give him someone to talk to. He’s just a little boy. He doesn’t understand what grief is or how to get past it. And you’re not helping him.”

“How the f*ck am I supposed to help him when I’m drowning in my own grief?”

“You’re his father. You’re all he has. Stop being so goddamn selfish and think of your son. Stop ignoring him. Stop acting like you’re the only one who’s suffering here. Like his grief doesn’t matter. Rachel would be furious if she knew you were treating Garret this way.”

“Get out!” I yell at him. “Get out of my house!”

He looks surprised, which he shouldn’t be. He said her name, and he knows I don’t want anyone saying her name.

Charles slowly nods. “The pizza is on the counter. Your meals for the weekend are in the fridge. You just need to heat them up.” He turns to leave but then stops. “Garret was invited to a birthday party tomorrow. He asked you multiple times last week if he could go and you never answered, but he really wants to go.” He pauses. “And he needs some help with his math homework.”

When I don’t respond, he turns and goes back to the kitchen. Moments later, I hear the front door open and close as he leaves.

I sit on the couch and take a moment to calm down. I need to go apologize to Garret. It was wrong of me to yell at him like that. I almost sounded like my father.

Charles is right. Rachel would be furious if she knew I was treating Garret this way and not helping him get through this. And even though I know he needs help, I don’t think I’m the one who can help him. I’m not ready to talk about her, or the plane crash. I can’t answer his questions. I need to do as Charles suggested and get Garret into counseling. He needs to talk to someone. Someone better than me.

I go over and pick up the mess I made. I arrange the candy boxes back like Garret had them. There are all different kinds, in the small boxes like they sell at the theater. Charles must have taken Garret out earlier to buy them.

I get the small garbage can from the kitchen and throw out the licorice since it wasn’t wrapped. Next I scoop handfuls of popcorn in the trash, then pick up the remaining pieces. I take the remnants of Garret’s sign and hold it in my hand. It looks like he spent forever making it. He carefully drew the characters the same way Rachel used to draw them, and then he colored them with markers. I add the sign to the trash, then put the small garbage can back under the sink.

It’s almost seven now and we haven’t had dinner. The pizza is still sitting on the counter. I go up to Garret’s room and knock on the door. He doesn’t answer. I open the door and see him sitting on the floor, leaning against his bed.

“Garret.”

He ignores me, which he should. I don’t deserve his attention.

I sit on his bed. “Garret, come sit next to me.”