“I wanna go home,” he said, turning to me with urgency before repeating, “I wanna go home, Blake. Let’s go home.”
I didn’t know what to say. Now that he was awake and the prognosis was miraculously good, I wasn’t sure what my parents’ plans were and I didn’t want to lie to him. Still, I did want to comfort him, so I laid my hand over his and said, “I know, buddy. Soon.”
We let him fall asleep and when his snores filled the room, I felt a cool hand on my forearm.
“Blake,” my mom said, so soft and weak. “Can I talk to you?”
Exhausted and ragged, I laid a hand over my eyes. “Mom, I really don’t want to fight right now.”
“Neither do I. Just … please, I want to talk.”
Reluctantly, I turned my eyes from Jake’s sleeping figure and followed my mom out into the hallway. She asked if I’d like to get some coffee from the cafeteria, to which I replied coldly, “I don't drink coffee.”
She responded with a sad smile. “I guess I never knew that. What about tea?”
“I like tea,” I concurred with a nod.
“So do I.”
***
We sat in the cafeteria, hot paper cups of tea between our palms. It was weak, nearly flavorless, and at the first sip, both of us screwed our lips with disgust. Mom caught my expression and laughed lightly. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard my mother genuinely laugh, but there it was.
It was nice.
Then, she began to speak. “Do you remember when you were a little boy and you’d run around in your underwear with that plastic sword and shield?” I shook my head at the question, while remembering a particular drawing Jake had made weeks ago. “You were always my brave little warrior. Always up for a fight, always getting into something, and your father and I were always waiting for you to get hurt. We didn’t wish for it to happen, but we expected it, I guess.”
She kept her eyes on the table as she continued, “I hated that you boys hung out at that house, but I couldn’t control you. And Jake …” She sniffed lightly. “He would follow you to the end of the world, so there wasn’t any controlling him either. But there was also a comfort in knowing he was there, to look out for you. Even your father would say, ‘He’s okay, Jake’s with him,’ and that always seemed good enough. That made me feel better. So, when it was you running home, telling us you killed Jake …”
She lifted her head to meet my gaze then and said, “I didn’t know what to do with that, Blake.”
I recalled that moment with tiny bursts of hazy memory. Me, bursting through the door of my parents’ house, knowing the blood was trickling down my leg but not caring. Then, gasping through my hysterics, and telling them over and over that I’d killed my brother.
“I was terrified, and I guess my fear manifested into anger. God, Blake, I was so, so unbelievably angry, and no matter how many times I told myself that it was just an accident, I couldn’t stop myself from feeling that rage. In just a few, stupid seconds, my beautiful, smart, talented, sweet boy was taken away from me—”
“He’s still Jake,” I finally muttered, knowing it didn’t make anything better and that it was damn close to being a lie.
Mom tried to smile but failed as she shook her head. “Yes, but he’s not the boy I knew for ten years, and I guess … I guess I’ve been mourning that boy for a long time, and I needed something to blame for losing him.” Her glassy eyes, swimming in apologetic agony, met mine and she said, “It was so easy to blame you. It shouldn’t have been. God help me, it really shouldn’t have been, because you’re my son and I love you—I always have—but it was still just so … easy. And I pulled away from you and ruined everything, I know I did, and I’m not sure I could ever apologize enough for what I’ve done to you.”
I wiped a hand beneath my nose and struggled to say, “I don’t know either.”
Her nod was sharp and broken. Her hand fluttered awkwardly, touching her hair and temple and neck. “Well, I, um, I was hoping I could at least begin to try, if you’d let me. I want to do better. I want to be better, Blake. I want to fix this—Lord, I want to fix this so badly. I hate what this family is now, and I see how much better you’re doing, how much better you’re being with Jake. Hell, even your father is making an effort. And after this past month, I feel like … like I’m finally opening my eyes again, and I’m realizing how much time I’ve wasted being angry. And Blake, I don’t want to waste anymore of my life being mad about something that was never, ever your fault or his. I don’t. I just want my family back.”
Exhaling, I slowly nodded, knowing exactly who to thank for everything good now in my life. My happiness and newfound faith and Jake’s contentedness. Dad’s attempts at acceptance. It was the same woman who’d also suggested there could still be hope for my mother and me, hope that we could forgive and reform a relationship that had died two decades ago. I hadn’t thought it was possible then, hadn’t even wanted to entertain the idea. But now, sitting across from her and seeing the tears that trailed over her cheeks and around her untouched cup of tea, I found myself wondering if it really was possible. Not to forget, but to forgive and maybe head slowly toward something resembling a family.
“I’m not gonna pretend like I know what it was like for you,” I spoke through a throat so constricted and graveled. “I can’t put myself in your shoes, and I don’t want to. Fuck, I can’t even empathize, because all I can think about is the fact that I was your kid, too, and you didn’t give a shit about how much you were hurting me. You didn’t think about how I’d grow up or how fucked up I’d be.”
Her sob almost startled me. “Blake …”
Holding up a hand, I continued, “You and Dad were so consumed by what you lost, that you never for a second took the time to look at what you still had. You neglected both of us, and I can’t ever forget that. Hell, I’m not even sure I can ever forgive you for it,” I folded my arms on the table, leaning forward and fixing my stare on hers, “but I’m not you, I’m not gonna waste twenty years of my life being pissed off, so I guess I can try.”
Sniffling and nodding, she wiped her hands against her cheeks. “That’s all I’m asking you for.”
“I know a good place you can start.”
She nodded adamantly. “What? What can I do?”
“Don’t dump Jake in that place,” I told her, furrowing my brow and feeling my stony walls crumble as I began to plead. “Please. Don’t do that to us. Let him live with me. You guys can see him whenever you want, but just please, don’t—”
“Okay.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That was too easy.”
She shook her head. “Your father and I already called Shady Acres a couple of weeks ago. We weren’t going to send him there, he made it very clear he didn’t want to go and only wanted to be with you, so …” She offered me a wobbly smile. “Okay.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
Dropping her gaze and offering a slight shrug, she said, “We didn’t know if he’d ever wake up.”