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Wade and I are on Denise duty.
Ellen and Russell are about to run out to get their Christmas shopping done. Your parents not already having those presents wrapped and locked away in the chest at the foot of their bed is a big deal, though Denise is too young to realize this—but thankfully smart enough to know what’s good about this Santa business because I’m sure Wade and I are bound to slip.
Your parents are looking better. Russell is clean-shaven but still smells of cigarettes, and I really hope to find a patch on his arm sometime in the near future. Ellen looks tired, understandably, and the gray in her blond hair has gone untouched, but she doesn’t seem defeated.
“It’s lovely to see you both, really,” Ellen says, and I believe her. “Thanks for taking Jackson in, Griffin. He’s family like you two, but hosting anyone during that time required fuel I didn’t have. We’re relaxing back to that point where we can trust our emotions a little better, I think.”
“No worries,” I say. She has no idea the role he played in her only son’s death. The role I played in your death. I don’t deserve to be here or anywhere near her family again. I’m sharp, I’m poison, I’m suffocation, and I’m fire. But going forward, I can be more careful with those around me. “Did the box with Theo’s things arrive okay?”
Ellen nods. “Thank you for sorting through that with Jackson. Your love for Theo means more than I can find words for.”
“No words necessary.”
Russell and Ellen kiss Denise and rush out, hoping to be home at a respectable time. It’ll be tough considering the time and store traffic this week, but Wade and I are here for as long as they need us.
Wade stands in front of Denise, arms crossed like a bouncer’s, and looks down at her with a funny-serious glare. “All right, Dee, we are your minions. What do you want to play first?”
Denise runs into her room and returns with an armful of well-loved board games. I think she’s going to make a move for Monopoly Junior, but then she opens the fifty-piece turtle puzzle we once did with her, and if she can be strong enough to piece back together this family of three turtles, then I can, too—then I will, too. Wade has always been more of an observer whenever it comes to puzzles, but I think he’s surprising even himself when he begins participating, starting at the top right, which—spoiler alert—is the cave the turtles are headed to.
It’s kind of cool, like Wade is making sure there’s a home for the turtles Denise and I are creating.
Normally you lead the stories behind each puzzle. I’m ready to do so in your place, but Denise cuts in and her imagination is just as wild as yours. When the puzzle is done, Denise tells—excuse me, commands—us to put the puzzle away while she runs to grab another game.
“I never understand this part,” Wade says. “Breaking apart the puzzle.”
“Theo and I kept some,” I say. Talking about you before, when Wade and I were doing our own thing, was legit awkward. Now that we’re grounding ourselves, it feels natural to bring you up, although a part of me hopes it isn’t making Wade feel a certain way.
“It’s a waste of time if you don’t. It’s like sand castles that people just body slam their friends onto if you leave for a minute,” Wade says.
“I don’t think so. You still take some experience away with each puzzle. Puzzles are sort of like life because you can mess up and rebuild later, and you’re likely smarter the next time around.” I pull apart the edges of ocean and seaweed, then the fins, then the shells, and lastly the heads. I trust the turtles will come out to play again, maybe another time or two before Denise takes a shot at your harder puzzles.
Denise returns with her speakers and connects them to your mother’s laptop and blasts the music
from her playlist. “Dance party!” And then she’s dancing with her eyes closed, so she’s blind to how she’s all arms and shoulders. I’m thinking I’m going to have to force Wade to be silly, but he’s up before me and looking down at me with his serious-funny look. He extends a hand and helps me up, letting me go quickly. His head is bopping out of sync with the beat, but maybe he’s lost in his head, a completely different song getting him through this little girl’s dance party.
“Dance, Griffin!” she cries.
I do. I dance like I would with you, which just basically means a lot of hopping, and the three of us dance so hard we’re probably pissing off the family downstairs. Even if they have the balls to come up here with some noise complaint, they’re going to have to bitch to the door because we’re not stopping. I’m not interrupting the happiness of a girl who’s been missing her older brother, the happiness of a guy who’s been missing the first love of his life, the happiness of another guy who lost his best friend, the collective happiness of three people in desperate need of happiness.
When the dance party finally winds down, Wade and I find your mother’s iced tea in the fridge and get glasses for all of us, though who knows when Denise will get to hers since she’s still doing handstands against the wall. We should’ve really encouraged her to go to bed by now, but if she has this much energy, I can’t imagine she’ll actually fall asleep. I hate to think about the thoughts she’s thinking when she’s stuck in bed alone.
My phone buzzes.
It’s a text from Jackson: I bit my tongue twice today. IDK why. If you bit your tongue a third time, would you bite it a fourth time?
I don’t know what the hell kind of message that’s supposed to be, but it’s certainly not a question I’m planning on answering. I throw my phone to the other side of the couch and tell Denise to choose a movie. Denise puts on Peter Pan, which makes me think of Jackson’s former best friends in that play, but I shove Jackson to the back of my mind.
Halfway through the movie, Denise falls asleep on Wade’s arm, and Wade is minutes away from completely passing out himself. It’s early by his standards, so I don’t know why he’s so tired, but it definitely has me wondering what he’s thinking about when he’s alone in bed.
Once Wade is laid out, I get up from the couch. I walk to your room and wish there was a point in knocking. I open the door and everything is still in place, with the addition of the box Jackson and I put together from your dorm. You’re the only thing missing. I don’t have the strength to go in alone, but I’m happy to see your stuff still here and not suddenly abandoned on the sidewalk as the latest healing ritual emailed to your parents.
I turn around, and Wade’s eyes are open now, watching me. I don’t know why, but it stops me in my tracks. He’s tired, but he also looks, I don’t know, disappointed or annoyed. I mouth “What?” and he shakes his head gently. I don’t believe it’s nothing, but I’m not going to push this, especially not with Denise here.
I join them on the couch and kick my feet up on the coffee table. I try and concentrate on the movie, but it’s not happening. I still can’t believe you weren’t actually immortal. I take a page out of Denise’s book and close my eyes.
Sunday, December 25th, 2016
This Christmas is even more off than last year’s. I know I said the same thing about Thanksgiving, but Christmas hurts more, as will New Year’s Eve, as will your birthday, as will my birthday, as will every day you’re not alive. If I’m really done with lying, I can’t lie about that.
