My eyes bulged.
“You are my son,” my father said, ignoring my fierce blush. “The only one God saw fit to give me. As long as you grow up to be a good man, the rest doesn’t matter. We clear?”
I nodded.
“We clear?” he asked again.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered.
I thought that was it, I thought we were done. But then Big Eddie stood up, pulling me to his side. I wrapped my arms around him as he patted my back. “Dad?” I asked finally.
“Yeah?”
“You’re really not mad?”
“Really.”
“Okay.”
We stood there for a moment longer, watching leaves fall from the tree in front of Little House. My breathing evened out, my eyes dried, my heart stopped pounding a million beats a second. I didn’t know then that less than a year later I’d be standing under gray skies as my father was lowered into the ground, a stone angel his only guardian.
If I’d known… well, I don’t know what difference it would have made. I’m sure I would have held on for just a moment longer. I’m sure I would have done everything I could to put myself in the oncoming path of Death so it would not take my father. Time is a river, I’ve learned. Always moving forward. But for people like me, people who have loved and lost, the river is something we fight. We swim against the current, trying to get back to the way we once were, trying to hold onto anything to keep us from getting swept away. It’s exhausting and eventually we tire. Still we push on. I can’t let him go into the river and be swept away.
I can’t let him go.
I finally calmed down enough to drop my arms, but we stood there, side by side, for a bit longer, his arm on my shoulders.
Eventually, we got back to work on Little House.
I reach Big House and waiting for me, as she always is, is Nina. She sits on the
porch steps, the headlights of the truck washing over her worried face. I stop, trying to ignore the blue flash that flits off out of the corner of my eye. More and more frequently this has been happening, and I wonder if I should be worried. My luck, it’s not a ghost I don’t believe in, but a malignant brain tumor pressing against my occipital lobe. Eh. It’s probably too late as it is.
I stop the truck in front of her and she skips down the remaining steps, her sandals slapping against the heels of her feet. “You’re late,” Nina scolds me as I open the Ford’s door, her sweet face marked with lines that belie her condition. I often wonder if Mary ever felt guilty that she was not born with Down syndrome like her twin sister. Nina and Mary are fraternal twins, which is why Nina has Down syndrome and Mary doesn’t.
“You’re late,” she says again, poking me lightly in the chest. “Why were you late? I was waiting.”
I sigh. “Got pulled over,” I mutter, not thinking of my words before I speak them.
Her eyes go wide and she covers her mouth, her words muffled when she speaks. “Oh no! Did you get a ticket? Did you get in trouble? Did you get arrested?” She’s starting to get upset, her chest heaving slightly, the intake of her breath sharper.
I reach out and pull down her hands from her mouth. Tears are already glistening on her cheeks. I rub my thumb over her palms, the only thing that calms her when she’s upset. “It’s okay,” I say softly. “Nothing wrong. Sheriff Griggs just wanted to chat.”
She startles me when she sticks out her tongue and blows a raspberry. “I don’t like that man,” she snaps. “He was never nice to me when we were kiddies.”
I smile. “Can I tell you something?” I ask her.
She nods eagerly, the tears forgotten, curling her hand into mine as she pulls me forward to whisper it in her ear. She smells like strawberry shampoo. I kiss her head once before I whisper, “I don’t like him either.”
Nina turns to me, searching my eyes to make sure I’m not fooling her. I show her my sincerity with a small smile and she giggles, putting her hand up to her mouth again. “He’s a bad man,” she says in her laughter. “Bad, bad man!”
“Bad man,” I agree. I’m about to ask how her day was when she suddenly stops laughing and looks above me, her eyes wide. I turn, but there’s nothing there. “What is it?” I ask, looking back at her.
“Wow,” she says in awe. “It sure is bright today.”
“The stars?”
“Oh, no,” she says, a beautiful smile growing on her face.