Just One More

“Honey, we’re more than sure about entering the Academy,” said Blake confidently. “We’re perfect fits, in fact.”

“Oh, have the test results come back already?” I asked curiously. I knew the twins had sat for psychological assessments recently but hadn’t expected the results to come back so fast. Typically government bureaucracy took months, if not years.

But it seemed that last week’s results were already available.

“Yep, scored 95 and 99 percent,” said Blake, nodding at his brother with a grin. “Like I said, we’re perfect fits for our dream job.”

And my heart dropped a little. I knew they were good, I didn’t know they were great. But Blake changed the subject abruptly.

“Honey, about that Adams boy, did you know him well? I think you’d mentioned that his parents sponsored your seat right?” He was referring to the fact that I was a charity student at Canterdale, my tuition subsidized by a generous donation from an anonymous donor.

“Well, I’m not totally sure the Adams endowed my scholarship,” I said slowly. “The district never says for sure, but I thought they did because Mr. and Mrs. Adams have always made an effort to be nice to me throughout the years,” I said. “Ever since third grade, when I started in this zone,” I clarified.

“Did you pay them a visit after their son died?” Blake asked.

I hung my head with shame. After Brian passed unexpectedly from a seizure during football practice, his parents had secluded themselves and I hadn’t made an effort to reach out, to see if there was anything I could do. I felt guilty. The Adams had always been nice to me in the past, a kindly older couple who’d made sure to ask about my schoolwork, my grades, how I was doing in general. One year, I remember it was especially cold and they’d presented me with a winter jacket for Christmas.

“But it’s not even December yet!” I’d gasped when I’d opened the gift. I’d never had something so nice, the downy purple material soft and warm.

“Oh honey,” said Jane Adams gently, “we thought you looked a little cold when we bumped into you on campus last week, you didn’t have a jacket on, not even a sweater,” she reprimanded gently.

I remembered that day. I’d been coming out of science class and unexpectedly run into John and Jane Adams, shivering a bit as I made conversation outside the classroom. But I hadn’t expected something as generous as a puffy winter jacket, new and unused. Their thoughtfulness was overwhelming and really touched me.

“Thank you,” I’d murmured, gratefully slipping into the coat. My family wasn’t poor, but Mom had been distracted with Jenna’s issues and hadn’t had time to go shopping with me, much less buy groceries or cook. So I’d been getting by on my own, wearing threadbare clothes from last year.

Jane Adams just chuckled in reply. “You let us know if you need anything, okay?” she asked gently. “We’re always here, and I know you’re good friends with Brian.”

I was friends with their son. Friends since third grade, in fact, but we weren’t close anymore. It was just a part of growing up. Brian was into football, sports, hanging out with the cool kids, while I wasn’t exactly cool … more of a wallflower, unnoticed, the shy girl.

But Brian was still nice to me, acknowledging me in the hallways, occasionally carrying my bag if it was really heavy. We just hadn’t had any meaningful conversation in years now, our separate interests leading us down different paths.

So I was ashamed. Brian had died about two months ago under horrific circumstances and I hadn’t had the basic decency to pay my respects to his parents.

“Um, no,” I said shamefacedly, not looking up at Blake and Bryan. “I should have, I know. I should have at least sent the Adams a card or something at least,” I mumbled, still not looking up.

I felt a big hand stroke my shoulder.

“Baby, don’t worry about it,” growled Bryan. “Grief does strange things to people and it takes time to get your bearings. Maybe the Adams didn’t even want you to come around, they weren’t taking visitors.”

That made me feel marginally better, but only marginally.

“No, I think I should visit them,” I said, straightening on the couch. “It’s time. I shouldn’t wait anymore, and if they’re not ready, it’s okay, I can come back some other time,” I said resolutely. I’d get them some flowers maybe, and a card, to express my condolences. I could always leave those on the doorstep if they didn’t answer the bell.

“Good idea, honey,” said Blake. “We’ll go with you for the visit. It won’t be easy,” he said softly, rubbing my thigh reassuringly, “but we’ve got your back.”

And I was grateful. Grateful that I had these men, that they were my everything now. Because even for the most difficult of tasks, they were my back-ups … just like true family.