With a hand in each of mine, I'm in the middle of two brothers. We're standing in front of a grave, with beautiful engraving and fresh flowers sitting in front.
“Dad must bring them,” Jake mutters.
“Jake, do you think Mom looks down on us from heaven?” Drake asks after a minute of silence.
“Yes, buddy, I do.”
“Good.”
“C'mon. It's time,” Jake says, tugging us over where his dad will be buried. People are slowly starting to arrive and I stand with Jake and Drake as people hug Jake, giving condolences, skip me, and repeat with Drake. Never does either of their hands leave mine. The boys give one armed hugs instead. Next, we take our seats at the front with Roy and his wife and children sitting behind us. Everyone else that arrives, mostly people who knew Mr. Benson and worked with him, stand behind us. I almost cry when I see Coach and Jake's high school team show up. I'm pretty sure Jake has the same reaction.
Jake has my hand in a death grip as the pastor begins to speak. Drake's hand is shaking, and I glance over at him. He's trying so hard to be strong, but as soon as the pastor says something about what Mr. Benson left behind, Drake turns towards me and starts sobbing. Letting go of Jake's hand, I wrap this little boy in a hug. My own tears fall at how mournful Drake is. It doesn't surprise me, but it still throws me off my kilter. I've never seen a child this upset before, I guess.
“It's going to be okay,” I whisper into Drake's hair.
At my words, Drake pulls away from me and in a flash, runs off. Jake stands, but my father lays a hand on his shoulder and turns to go after Drake. Reluctantly, Jake sits back down and reclaims my hand. He doesn't look anywhere but at the black, sleek casket. It pains me to see him so troubled.
Everything stops as we hear Drake's yelling.
“No! No, no, no, no! I want my Mom!” he screams at Dad.
Jake bolts over to him and wraps him in a tight hug, but Drake pushes him away. I'm only a step behind Jake and Drake pushes past Jake and runs to me. Slightly confused, I hug him to me as Jake looks on with a hurt expression.
“Why'd they leave me?” Drake whispers so only I can hear.
“They didn't want to, I promise. Everything will be okay, alright? You've got me, Jake, and Mr. Mike. We're all here for you.”
“Promise you and Jake won't leave me?”
“We promise, don't we, Jake?”
“Absolutely,” he answers, hugging us together in a sandwich. “Are you up for the rest of the ceremony?”
“I just want to go home,” Drake answers.
“Alright. Let's go.” Jake turns to my dad. “Will you take care of things here?”
“Of course.”
Jake huddles us to the car and soon we are leaving the dreaded funeral behind. Back at Jake's, Drake stares mindlessly at the cartoons playing on the TV. Jake and I are in the kitchen, and I watch as Jake paces.
“I've never seen him like that,” he grumbles softly.
“He's a kid who lost both his parents. How do you expect him to react?”
“That's not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” I wonder aloud.
Jake runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I don't know.”
Jake, he's wound up so tight that it scares me. I want to give him a hug, loosen those muscles of his, but I'm nervous. Will he accept it? Does he want it? Oh, forget it. He's mine and I want to comfort him.
“Jake,” I say, walking over to him. He turns to face me and I wrap him in a hug. Maybe it's my imagination or wishful thinking, but ever so slowly he relaxes.
“Thank you,” he whispers into my neck as he nuzzles it.
“I love you,” I say just as soft.