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Feeling a strange tightness in her chest, Xolani scooted closer to Barry and put her arm around his back. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” He turned his head to meet her eyes. The smile he gave her was forced and looked almost painful. “There is no need to be sorry. This is a happy day. The world is a better place with that asshole gone. We should be celebrating.” He lifted the can of beer that he was holding. “See. I’m celebrating.”
He certainly didn’t look like someone who was happy or celebrating.
Still, Xolani didn’t call him out on it. She leaned closer to kiss his cheek. “How did you find out?”
“Victoria.” Barry’s gaze swept back to the TV. “She called me while I was at work.”
Xolani remembered that Victoria was his mum’s name. In all their conversations, Barry had seemed to resent, pity, and miss the woman in equal measure. Xolani assumed that he’d care about Victoria more than he cared about Patrick.
So, Xolani asked, “How is she doing?”
“She’s doing great and being a total champ about Patrick dying.” Bitterness and sarcasm dripped heavily from Barry’s tone as he added, “She’s all ‘it’s the Lord’s will and we’ll meet again in heaven’. Ridiculous! The only way she and Patrick will meet is if God is blind or just lets anyone through the pearly gates.”
Xolani didn’t know how to respond to that. She could only mutter an, “Oh!”
“Right now, she’s on a fundraising campaign.” Barry chuckled, but the sound was rough and held no amusement at all. “Apparently, I’m supposed to send them money to bury the old man. But… get this… I’m not allowed to attend the funeral because Patrick wouldn’t like it.”
Wait! What?
The audacity!
Xolani saw red. How could a nice person like Barry be related to so many assholes? She was sorely tempted to go on a rant about the whole sorry lot but bit her tongue because Barry seemed more sad than angry.
She rubbed his back with her palm. “I’m sorry.”
“Again, nothing to be sorry about.” Barry tried to take another sip of his beer but found the can empty. He tossed the can to the carpeted floor. “He got what was coming to him. It’s a little late… but better late than_”
He paused as if the words were stuck in his throat. He swallowed convulsively then tried to speak again, but no sound came out. He closed his eyes, bent his head, and lowered his chin to his chest. Setting his elbows on his thighs, he inhaled deeply and exhaled loudly.
Was he having a panic attack?
Concerned, Xolani squeezed and massaged the back of his neck. “Are you okay?”
“Ye_” But the words caught in his throat again. A tear slid from his eyes to land on his arm, and seconds later, more tears followed. He was crying.
Seeing him cry was like getting stabbed in the heart. Xolani felt pain in her chest and a lump in her throat even as tears burned the back of her eyes. If she felt this way, she could only imagine how much pain he was in.
“I’m sorry.” She moved even closer to him and wrapped both her arms around his torso. Placing multiple kisses on his shoulders, neck, and cheek, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Barry suddenly turned his upper body and yanked her off the couch. She found herself seated sideways across his lap with his arms around her waist and his head buried in her chest. Though his cries were silent, she could feel his tears wetting her blouse. But she didn’t care. All that mattered was taking care of him.
She stroked his hair and shoulders and kissed his head, whispering consolations, while her own tears fell.
She wasn’t crying for Patrick. Hell no! As far as she was concerned, Satan had just collected his own. She was crying for Barry, for the pain he was in, for the complicated life he’d lived that made him mourn a brute who’d hurt him and stolen his childhood.
Xolani had no idea how long they stayed that way, but it was quite a while. Night settled in and the room got dark. Once his tears stopped falling, she moved from his lap to close the drapes and turn on the lights. She then wordlessly led him upstairs by the hand.
Given his habits, she was certain that he’d want to get rid of the strong alcohol smell that was coming off his body and clothes. She helped him out of his clothes, took off her own, then led him to the bathroom. There was no sex. She just helped him wash up while also getting clean. Once they were done, they headed back to the bedroom.
“What do you want for dinner?” she asked as she stood in front of Barry, who was seated on the bed, drying his hair with a towel.
He mumbled, “I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat something.” She squatted down so that she was just below his eye level. “You haven’t eaten since morning.”
It was just a guess, but he didn’t correct her.
