“It’s true,” Cameron interrupts, “whatever you’ve got to do, just get that closure though. It’s the only way you can move on and keep living, man.”
Chris nods, but doesn’t respond. I wonder if it’s because he can’t trust his voice right now. I decide that’s probably our cue to get going. Besides, the ladies are waiting in the car for us.
“We should probably get moving, Armstrong.” I step out to shake his hand. “Thanks for this,” We shake hands, the same hands we fought to save each other’s lives with. The man who told me I was as good as a blood brother to him. Only now, I’m ready to hear it.
“Anytime, Captain.” He smiles at me. “Hey, Chris,” he looks over at Lauren’s son, “you wanna keep that ball?”
That does it. Chris’s crestfallen face forms back into the cheerful smile he had when we started this tour. Thank God. I didn’t want to depress him. Just the opposite, really.
“Yeah? That would be cool. Thanks!” Chris clutches the football like he was just given a diamond.
“No problem. Just remember to keep working that arm, ok? And, no matter how you gotta do it, get that closure. You’ll feel like you’ve been given a new life when you do.” Cameron sticks out his hand to shake Chris’s and I can’t help but feel a strange twinge of pride when the boy returns the handshake.
“I will.” From the look in his eyes, I think we’ve done some good for him today. At least, I hope we have. He looks determined, maybe this is what he needed to turn a new leaf. No child deserves the tragedy and upheaval that Chris has had to deal with. I hope that this is the beginning of being able to put it behind him.
And I find myself hoping that I’ll be able to keep being there for him, helping to guide him through it in the future.
21
Lauren
2014
“Do you remember that Halloween when my father caught you and your friends trying to t.p. my house?” Heat flushes through my cheeks as I laugh at the memory. Of course, the diminishing bottle of wine sitting on the coffee table probably has something to do with it.
“Oh, man. How could I forget? Your dad was so pissed. I thought he was gonna hand me my ass in a sling.” Mack’s eyes twinkle as he throws his head back and laughs. “I would’ve deserved it though.”
“Nah, his bark was worse than his bite, but yeah, he caught you red handed.”
“We were so dumb about it too,” he runs his palm over his beard, “I mean, we had a laundry basket of toilet paper.” He shakes his head and then takes another sip of the white wine we’re polishing off.
After they finally came out to the car, Chris and Mack were joking around like lifelong friends. It did my heart good to see my boy so relaxed and happy again. I guess none of us were in a hurry to say goodbye. After Mack agreed to come over for dinner, him and Chris went outside and tossed the Frisbee around until the night sky grew chilly. Then they decided to warm up a bit by playing video games, talking smack the whole time. I swear, for a couple of hours, I wasn’t sure if I had one kid or two.
Chris went to bed hours ago, but Mack and I are still up, basking in the glow of our sentimentality. That glow burns a lot brighter when you pop the cork on the third bottle of chardonnay.
“I still remember what he said, too,” Mack continues. He puts his glass down on the table and straightens up as he imitates my father’s posture. “One of you boys better have a serious bowel problem,” Mack drops his voice like dad’s signature baritone. “Because if I find you throwing that toilet paper on my property, you’re gonna need every single sheet when I beat the shit out of each of you.”
Laughter rises up from my belly like bubbles in a glass of champagne. It’s nice to be able to laugh over memories of dad now. When the heart attack first took him, every thought of him stung. Actually, it feels good to let loose and laugh about anything again. With the year I’ve had, I was beginning to forget what feeling anything was like. Unless you count numbness and exhaustion. I was starting to believe those would be the only sensations I would ever have again.
“That was dad,” I smile and hold my glass up in the air, “bless his soul.” Mack closes his eyes and nods in a silent blessing. “Why were you trying to t.p. my house anyway? We were friends for a while by that point.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I was young and didn’t know how to talk about feelings and stuff back then. I guess some things never change, huh?” He looks over at me and winks.
Mack is many things, but an open book isn’t one of them.