“I know,” I said, because I did, even if I didn’t know specifics. “But I’m here. Okay?”
He trembled. “You’re not going to go away?”
I almost hesitated with my answer, because could any of us ever make a promise like that? Could any of us actually keep that promise? But if I hesitated, he would have seen it. He would have known. “No,” I said. “No I’m not going away. Not now. Not ever. It’ll be you and me forever.”
“I’m lost!” he cried. “Oh God, I’m so lost. You have to find me! Please, Paul, you have to find me because I’m so lost.”
I could feel the shudder that roared through him then because it caused my own arms to shake. He was twitching like he was seizing, and I panicked when he started making little choking noises in the back of his throat, like he couldn’t catch his breath, like his body had sunk into full-blown panic and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. I did the only thing I could think of doing: I rolled over on top of him, crushing his body with mine, covering him completely like I was anchoring him to the world even as it broke.
All the air was crushed out of him, so much so that he couldn’t take in another breath to allow the sobs to come again. He stared up at me with those big eyes of his, our foreheads touching, our noses brushing together. I waited until I knew it was just starting to get uncomfortable for him, when I knew he needed to take a breath, and then I shifted slightly and he sucked in air and let it back out, warm against my face.
His gaze never left mine when he said, “They’re dead, Paul. My parents are dead.”
“I know,” I said, my voice rough. “I know.”
“What’s going to happen to me? I don’t have anyone else. I don’t know anyone else.” Panic started to fill his eyes again. “There’s no one. There’s no one else.”
“There’s me,” I said, pressing my lips against his forehead. He shook underneath me. “There’s me, and there will always be me. I’ve got you. I’ll catch you. I’ll worry for you. You’re not lost. You’re not lost because I’ve found you.”
And he cried then, a soft sound that caused me to ache. He wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me down and cried into me. I let him, because it was what I said I’d do. I let him break because it was what he was entitled to.
He moved in with us that very night and he stayed until we went off to college. There were good days. There were some bad days. Some nights got to be too much for him and I would hear a soft knock on my door through the haze of sleep and he’d slip in through the shadows and crawl into my bed. Sometimes I held him. Sometimes we kissed, though it never went beyond that. It was not meant to be sexual. It was meant to be comfort, and I let him take from me all he could.
He was my best friend, after all. I’d have given him anything.
“WITHOUT you, I don’t think I would have made it,” Sandy said, after a time. His hands were still in my hair, though they’d stilled from the memory.
I sighed. “You may be giving me a bit too much credit here.”
“Only because you never give yourself enough. Seriously, Paul. How you underestimate your own worth is beyond me.”
“I’m humble?”
He snorted and began to play with my hair again. “I’m not sure that’s the right word for what you are.”
“Meek?”
“Hardly.”
“Gregarious?”
“Only when intoxicated.”
“Epic?”
“Most days, sure, but not quite.”
“I’m running out of ideas,” I said tiredly.
Silence.
Then: “You’re a lighthouse.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s the best way to put how I think of you, I guess.”
“That’s… weird.”