“Don’t argue,” I said sternly. “You are going to eat that, and then you are going to get some rest.”
I opened up cabinets, looking for the huge container of protein powder I remembered Aiden drinking in the mornings. I found it right next to a large box of individual packets of Swedish Fish. Remembering that Aiden liked them, I grabbed one of the bags.
I mixed up the protein powder in a blender cup, and then placed the cup and the bag of sweets on the table. Aiden stared at the bag as his face lost color.
“Aiden?”
He shoved himself away from the table, slammed into the wall behind him, and looked over to me with his eyes blazing.
“I’m not fucking hungry!” he screamed. “I don’t even know why the fuck you are here! You already left once. Isn’t that enough?”
I took a step back, surprised by the outburst. I saw Lance stand up from where he was sitting outside, but Redeye grabbed his arm and held him back.
Memories of my mother shortly after Dad’s funeral played through my mind. We had gone to dinner with a few friends, and Mom had yelled at the server when he got the orders turned around a bit. I had never known her to lash out like that before, but I understood her anger wasn’t directed at anyone in the restaurant. She was angry with life and with the hopelessness and fear that accompanied Dad’s death. She was angry at him for being gone, and she had lashed out rather than feel the pain of losing him.
I remembered Aiden buying Swedish Fish when we were in the airport before we flew down to Miami together. I’d picked on him for getting candy, and he’d gone quiet and cold for a while. I was starting to understand why.
Aiden’s anger wasn’t directed at me now any more than it had been then. This was grief, not anger.
“Aiden,” I said as I took a step toward him. He clenched his hands into fists and pressed them against the wall at his back. “What is it? What is it about Swedish Fish?”
He took in a gasping breath as he looked sharply away from me. He clenched his teeth along with his hands.
“Aiden, tell me about the fish.”
“No,” he said. His jaw was still tight.
“Why is the candy important to you?” I prodded, afraid I was pushing too hard but feeling like it needed to be done now, or the opportunity would be lost. This was important. This was key. I was sure of it.
“It’s…it’s not,” he said, but the venom was gone from his voice.
“Tell me,” I said softly as I moved a little closer again. “Tell me about them.”
Aiden’s shoulders slumped and he looked down at the table. He dropped back into the seat, and a single tear fell down his cheek as he reached out and ran his finger over the bag of Swedish Fish.
“They were Cayden’s favorite,” Aiden said quietly. “We always shared a bag of them, watching TV. He didn’t like the yellow ones.”
I walked up beside him and put my hand on his shoulder.
“Why was that so hard?” I asked.
“Because…because it hurts to think about it.”
Like a flash of lightning over the ocean, I saw the issue with perfect clarity. Aiden had never grieved for his son any more than he had for his father. Though my father had died much more recently, I’d spent my time mourning his death. Aiden had never let himself feel the loss, never allowed himself to grieve.
“You have to feel it, Aiden,” I said quietly. “If you don’t let yourself feel the pain, it stays with you forever.”
“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t think about it.”
I ran my hand over his cheek and turned his head to face me.
“You can,” I told him. “I’m going to help you.”
He stared at me.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because you need help,” I said simply. “Besides, I owe you one.”