His mom had called while we were at dinner. We’d been laughing about something stupid that I couldn’t even remember when his phone rang.
He answered, still chuckling, his voice lighthearted and happy.
“Hello?”
Slowly, his smile faded and his shoulders slumped forward.
We had been dating for over three years and I had never once seen him look like that. His brown eyes darkened until they were almost black, and he nodded slowly, listening to his mom’s voice. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I could hear the rise and fall of her voice and could tell she was in anguish.
I watched Tucker closely, straining to hear what his mom was saying. But all I could hear were her occasional sobs. My eyes stayed glued to Tucker’s face, but he wouldn’t look at me until he ended the call.
As he set his phone down, his eyes finally met my gaze. I reached across the table and took his hand in mine, though his fingers remained cold and limp in my grip.
He looked like a statue, sitting there with wide eyes and a vacant expression. Deep down, I knew what the news was, but waited for him to tell me; I didn’t want to assume the worst until he actually said it.
After several minutes, Tucker slowly shook his head.
Our waiter came over to bring us the check. I took it and waved him away, my eyes never leaving Tucker’s face.
I tightened my grip on his limp hand, wanting him to know I was there. I was willing to sit in that restaurant all night if he needed me to.
Eventually, his expression changed from empty, to sad and determined, and then thunderous. His eyes hardened and he looked at me with a steely glint that made me want to turn away from him, but I refrained.
I held his gaze and waited for him to speak. When he finally did, he only said two words that would change our entire lives.
“He’s gone.”
The air between us seemed to still while the rest of the world kept moving. My vision blurred around the edges, and the only solid thing I could see was Tucker. Sounds – the click and clatter for cutlery being used, laughter and incoherent conversations - became muted.
I rubbed my thumb across the back of Tucker’s hand while he sat there, frozen.
Suddenly, he stood, his chair scraping loudly on the floor and drawing the attention of surrounding diners. Our hands broke apart and I tried to grab him again, but he wouldn’t let me.
“I need to get home,” he said, without looking at me. He then turned and walked out of the restaurant.
I made to go after him, but the sight of the waiter reminded me of our bill. I quickly paid the charges before running after Tucker.
He’d been waiting for me beside his car in the empty parking lot.
“I’ll drive,” I said softly when I caught up with him. He was shaking and I was afraid he was too upset to drive. But when I tried to take the keys, he jerked them away from me and shook his head.
Reluctantly, I backed off and let him climb into the driver’s seat.
I had met Tucker’s dad plenty of times before, but he was away so often that we hadn’t gotten a chance to bond. Still, I felt his loss like a brick in my stomach and therefore couldn’t imagine how Tucker must have felt. Or how his mom would survive, for that matter.
All I knew was that I wanted to be there for them both.
I pulled open the car door and climbed into the passenger’s seat, determined to do whatever I could to help.
Tucker drove quickly through town, not slowing down until he pulled into his driveway.
He ran inside and I followed.
Tucker’s mom was sitting at the kitchen table. Her cellphone was in front of her, but she wasn’t looking at it. Instead, she stared out of the kitchen window with silent tears streaming down her face.
If an artist could capture the perfect image of a broken heart, Mrs. James would had been it.
Tucker flew across the room and knelt beside his mom. Without speaking, she turned to look at him, and he held her while she cried.