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Chapter Twenty-Two

As predicted, the house got real quiet a few days later. My house. I’d had to move Kal to my place on Anini while we waited to know if Morgan and Nalani’s house was still inhabitable. It wasn’t official yet, but the rains weren’t stopping, and I suspected it was simply too dangerous. So my nephew not only lost his mother and his father, he was about to lose his home too.

I looked across the kitchen counter at him one evening, where he was working on a drawing, and studied him—searching for clues that he was going to be okay. With Chloe’s help, I’d gotten him into grief counseling immediately. I wanted to be sure that I didn’t miss any signs. He seemed to be holding up, but shit, how would I know? I had no frame of reference. My parents split on us—they weren’t ripped away.

“Hey buddy,” I said. “You getting hungry for dinner?”

He shrugged, still scratching at his drawing. Near as I could tell, it was of some kind of giraffe. I took it as a good sign it wasn’t a sketch of the world set on fire but just an animal.

Kal took a sip from his cup that was sitting beside him. It slipped as he went to set it down. He caught it before it spilled all over, but a large splatter of pineapple juice landed on the upper corner of his drawing.

“No,” he said. “Nooo…”

“Oh hey, let me help you.” I hurried and grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at the stain. “See? Not so bad. Just got the corner here.”

“No, it’s ruined,” Kal said. Then louder, “It’s ruined!”

His breath started hitching, and he clutched the paper in both hands, wrinkling the edges, damaging it much more than the juice.

“Hey, bud, it’s fine. It’s not ruined. Just a little splash—”

He shook his head and jumped off the stool. “It’s ruined,” he screamed. He threw the paper on the floor and stomped on it, tearing it, and leaving shoeprints. “It can’t go back to the way it was. It cannevergo back to the way it was!”

My heart that was somehow still pumping, nearly shut down on me. Kal was in full-blown tantrum mode now, crying and sobbing. He snatched the paper off the floor and tore it to shreds.

“Never go back,” he cried. “Never…”

I knelt and took his shoulders in my hands. “Hey, Kal, look at me. Breathe, buddy, okay? It’s going to be okay.”

A crock of shit, but I said it anyway. Maybe he’d believe me.

His breathing calmed and he began to cry in earnest. I gathered him to me, hugging him, and suddenly, I was back in the trailer with Morgan at eleven with smoke all around him and tears in his eyes. Needing me to fix everything. To put it back the way it was, but I couldn’t because it was ruined.

So I just hugged Kal and willed myself not to fall apart because not falling apart for Kal’s sake was Job One these days. I woke up with crushing pain and carried it around all day, not looking at it, not even attempting to think about Morgan except in brief flashes. If I thought about who he’d been, the depth and enormity of a whole human, now lost, I’d go insane. The memories—thousands upon thousands, some profound, some simple—tried to get at me every other minute.

The simple ones were the worst. The little slices of life that were more human and real than the dramatic moments. His laugh, his dumb jokes, how it was impossible for him to hold a grudge. How he’d actually baked a cake for me when I graduated Columbia…

No fucking way.

I needed to get back to work or I was going to lose it. Not to mention, I’d taken as much leave as I possibly could. I was a lieutenant now; I had duties and responsibilities.

I felt stretched to the breaking point—and then my gaze landed on Morgan’s urn, sitting on the shelf in the living room. I hadn’t been able to put him in the ocean. A lot of people hadn’t understood why I wasn’t ready to let him be with Nalani, together under the waves.

Well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?

“Uncle Ash?” Kal sniffed, pulling out of my embrace. “I want to go home.”

“I know you do, buddy. But it’s too dangerous. You have to stay here for a little while longer, okay? I’m going to take care of you, I promise. I know it’s a lot…” I heard how weak and pathetic my words sounded but kept going. “We’re just going to have to do our best, okay?”

He nodded and wiped his nose. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I agreed, though nothing was okay or would be. An entirely different life stretched out in front of both of us and there was nothing okay about it.

I fed Kal dinner and he took a bath. Then I sat with him until he fell asleep in one of the spare bedrooms that was now his bedroom, wondering just how on earth either one of us was going to get out of this alive.

Two days later, I started my first of four twelves: four a.m. to four p.m. Chloe picked up Kaleo from school and hung out with him at my place until I showed up. Weeks of not sleeping told me this was going to be a rough next few days but I welcomed it. If I didn’t keep my brain occupied, I was going to have a mental breakdown. I wouldn’t be any good to Kal and he was the only thing that mattered now.

I entered the house to find him playing video games and Chloe sitting at the kitchen table.

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