I shake my head and grin, recalling the last time we were all in it, drinking beers, barely able to fit all three of us. It was when Kayla, Rem’s kid, was born. We always went out there to celebrate when one of them had a new baby.
“It wasn’t, you know, rocket science. But it held up. We played in that fork for years and years, and then Rem did after we were grown and out of the house.”
“What about your mom?”
Jude’s voice was low and quiet. Timid almost. I cut my eyes toward her as my breath caught sharply in my chest. I was not expecting that question. Which side of my mom am I going to tell her about? The sweet side, I grew up with, the mom I loved, or the one who I haven’t talked to in years because she left our family out of nowhere?
“When I was a kid, I thought she was the greatest mom in the world. Her laugh filled the room. She had this way of turning her head so it would not be too loud in your ear, but it stretched full into whatever space we were in, all the way to the walls, and up to the ceiling, no matter how high. I bet it brushed past leaves on trees, too. It was full, powerful–heart filling. If she laughed, you automatically felt loved. And her arms, well, they were always open to me. To all of us.”
“She also smelled good. I remember it was flowers and apple pie. I don’t know what kind of flowers, but sweet ones. Pretty ones. I also remember when I was really little, she sewed my teddy bear back together when it was torn.
Suddenly, Jude leans forward, face in her hands just above her knees, and starts weeping. The kind of lost soul sort of weeping like when someone dies. The impact of it thunders through me, and yet for one brief moment, I can’t do anything but stare at her.
10
Jude
It washes over me out of the blue. I am listening to his fort story, which I love, but then I make the horrible mistake of asking about his mom.
The things he says about her–all so lovely–are deep daggers right into the center of my heart. His mother was all the things mine wasn’t. The mother everyone should get.
It broke me. All I can do is sob and sob and sob. The grief is insurmountable.
I remember too many things, too many dark moments where my mother wasn’t my mother, where my mother was just my father’s beaten-down wife. No protector. Not for me.
What I remember most is not having parents. I remember not being loved. I remember being shown off at church when they had dolled me up into the ugliest dresses imaginable. They were two people who owned me and ruled every area of my life, but they were not parents, and certainly not family.
I remember nothing like what he had experienced. I’m shattered, damaged, destroyed. In a way that could never be made whole again, if I ever was. There is no way anyone will ever love me. No one will ever want to know my story like I want to know his. He thinks he wants to know mine, but there is no way. No possible way. I have to keep that held in.
I start heaving heavier sobs, and he pulls me into his arms, and I can’t—I don’t have the strength to resist him. I’m too lost and feeling too broken. I need the comfort he offers even if it goes away in ten minutes, even if it does not mean something more. Even if it is only pity. I can just drink it for the moment. I can just let it be. At least this time.
“What’s wrong? What did I say to make you cry like this?” he whispers into my hair.
Shaking my head, I simply cry. Snotty, messy crying. I cannot understand how some families have it so easy and some so hard. What did I ever do to deserve the life I had? How could my father hate me so much? There is no God. There is no goodness in the world. Not without a price anyway. What I wanted never mattered.
No one wants someone this broken. Being alone is safer. I am as useless as my dad said I was. I can’t rely on anyone. Love can never be trusted because it is always, always used against you. I will never be able to share my story.
The longer I cry, the more tender with me he gets. I feel Lex’s sweetness, but I can’t trust it. I will just lean on it for now though. I can let him hold me for a moment. That does not have to mean anything. He probably feels stronger because I’m weak.
“Just tell me, please.”
“Your mom sounds so amazing. I’m just sad I never had a mom like that,” I sob.
“Well, I just chose to tell you about the best parts. Maybe that was a mistake. I haven’t talked to my mom in years, Jude. She just left us out of nowhere. Decided she didn’t want to be a wife and mom any longer. Seb and I were already grown, but Rem was only seventeen, it hit him the hardest. Matter of fact, it really fucked him up.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Lex.” I don’t tell him that I’m still envious of him and his family. At least he had something, he has people who loved him growing up and who still love him now. I have nothing. No one to love me and keep me safe.
Then I recall his story about having to be the oldest child, the protector. That eases me a little. Makes it easier to breathe. Maybe he is a protector. Maybe he is shielding me right now.
“Are you thirsty?” he asks when I settle a little.
I nod my head against his chest.
“Lift up, little one, and I’ll get us some water.”
“I am not little.” The word little is like nails on a chalkboard to me. Little is weak. Little is dependent. Little is less than. Little means he has power over me, and I am needy. But I refuse to be little or needy or dependent on a man ever again.
Before Lex can respond, his cell rings. He looks at me, but I am already rising and heading into the kitchen.
“Hey, Luke, what’s up?”
His conversation continues, but I can only hear pieces of it. Luke, that was the name of the guy who helped him beat that boy on campus. Then I heard Lex ask something about what happened to him, which floods my mind with images of his bloody knuckles again. This is horrible.
When he hangs up, he joins me in the kitchen, but I know my face is drained of all color. I can’t help it. The horror of that night still makes me want to run. Only this time, I mostly just feel nauseous.
Lex looks at me warily.
“Are you okay? You look like you have just seen a ghost.”
I nod, not knowing how to reconcile the fort-building, protector Lex, with the bully Lex.
“I’m not feeling too good.”
“Dinner not sitting well?”
“Something like that.” I avoid his eyes. I need space. “I think I’m ready to go to bed.
Lex moves toward me, carefully.
“I would like to sleep with you if you are okay with that?”
My eyes dart up to his as my back stiffens.
“No funny busy. Not even cuddling if you don’t want that.” He raises both hands in the air to show no ulterior motive and no intent on control, which makes me breathe just a hair easier. “You just had a rough go,” he motions with his head toward the living room, “and I would imagine you are feeling pretty raw.”
I nod cautiously, not wanting to feel those feelings again or grant him too much space.
“I would just like to be there for you. In case you need me in the night. So, I can feel like your protector. If you want me to.”
That last bit was exactly what I needed. It has to be my choice.
“Okay. But no touching.”