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The next time the screen came alive, it was to the opening of a door. “Shh,” Lexi’s mom said.
“I’m being quiet,” Wes said from behind the camera.
“Look what she’s holding,” Lexi’s mom whispered. “She insisted on taking it to bed with her.”
The camera zoomed in and showed a tiny Lexi hugging her brand new hockey stick.
“I think you created a monster,” her mom whispered and giggled.
“I think we created a monster,” Wes corrected her.
“I’ll grab it so she doesn’t hurt herself.”
“Nah, just leave it,” Wes said, completely unconcerned.
“And what happens when she pokes her eye out with it?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Wes said, “We find her a pirate hockey league, I guess.”
“You’re awful,” his wife replied back with a quiet laugh.
“She’ll be fine, relax. Mark my words, Mommy. That kid is goin’ places.”
She whispered back, “I know, and I can’t wait to watch.”
The screen went blank again, and this time it blinked off.
I turned to look at Wes—who was sobbing on the couch.
Christ.
I grabbed a box of tissues from the kitchen and carried them into the living room with me.
“Here,” I said, tapping him on the shoulder with the box.
He looked up at me with swollen, bloodshot eyes. “Thanks,” he said, his voice raspy and hoarse. He took the box and pulled a few tissues out and wiped his face and blew his nose. “I killed her.”
I sat down on the couch beside him. “What do you mean?”
Tears flowed out of his eyes again. “Lexi’s mom,” he pointed toward the TV, “I killed her.”
I took a deep breath. “You didn’t kill her.” And I knew for sure that he hadn’t. Lexi told me she’d gotten sick.
“I didn’t love her the way she deserved, son. Every day I was with her—” his voice hitched and rose higher, “I wished it was Marianne. And she knew it. She fuckin’ knew it. It wasn’t fair to her. I should have let her go long before I did. I’m an asshole.”
Okay.
That was a lot.
No wonder he was a fuckin’ mess.
“You didn’t let her go. Lexi told me you looked after her until she died.”
He hunched over, his entire body shaking with grief. “We were getting ready to separate when,” he let out a deep, guttural cry. I moved over and put my arm around his shoulders.
Christ.
He was uncontrollably sobbing—his body making mine shake along with his.
