“You didn’t kill Cory. No one is blaming you. Neil won’t blame you either. But right now, his father is dead, and you’re the next closest to him other than Rochelle, and she’s struggling with everything else, including a newborn.”
“He was my best friend.”
Running my hand over his cheek, I whisper, “I know… I know.”
Rolling onto his back, he closes his eyes, and says, “This world wasn’t fucking good enough for him. He lives with legends now. It’s where he was always destined to be.”
“Rochelle needs you, Dalton. Neil and CJ need you.”
His eyes meet mine. “CJ?”
“The baby,” I say, my voice sounding more somber than I want. “CJ. Cory Jr.” Both of us sit up, resting our backs against the headboard. “You may not be ready, Dalton, no one ever is, but you need to go over there. Rochelle understands what you’re going through and hasn’t said anything, but she still needs you.”
Nodding, he knows I’m right. When he looks over at me, he asks, “Will you come with me?”
Leaning my head on his shoulder, I reply, “Of course.”
We both get up without any more discussion on the matter. It will be one of the hardest things we’ll ever do, but it’s the right thing.
When I park in front of Rochelle’s house, there are no shrines or memorials set up, and nobody is hanging around. I realize that’s why Rochelle chose such a low profile home to raise her family. They’re normal people to their neighbors and treated as such, the outside world hasn’t discovered their accessibility yet. They’re very lucky.
An older woman, with bloodshot eyes, answers the door. She smiles at me, but steps forward to hug Dalton. He whispers, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
She pats his back. “Thank you, Jack.” When they part, she looks at him with her own sympathy. I have a feeling he’ll be getting that a lot from now on. Cory’s death affects more than just family and friends. A band, a brand, a business is gone that employees relied on for their paycheck. I know he feels the weight of responsibility as well as the devastation of his friend’s death.
The inside of the home is serene like I’ve walked into the home of any young family with hopes and dreams pinned on their walls with the family portraits and the kid art. I see Neil playing on the back deck with a car, the sliding glass door wide open letting in fresh air. His tiny vroom sounds fill the otherwise quiet living room.
Rochelle is sitting in a chair with her legs curled under her, holding the baby, and watching Neil. Our presence isn’t noticed, her mind on other things. When I sit, she looks at me with tear-stained cheeks and watering eyes. She just had a baby a week ago but looks gaunt, too skinny for that to have happened. The roots of her naturally brown hair show, the longer strands still full of the chestnut color she prefers. Her gaze leaves the backyard and land on Dalton, who’s standing behind me. Tears escape her eyes and she quickly looks down at her baby.
I go to her, trying to stay strong, and say, “I’m sorry. So sorry, Rochelle.” Leaning down, I hug her and she wraps one arm around me, returning the hug.
When I stand back up, she lifts the baby up enough to show me. “I had my baby.”
I want to burst into tears, but restrain them. “He’s beautiful. Can I hold him?”
She nods, then stands up. Setting him carefully in my arms, she says, “His name is Cory Junior. We call him CJ.”
“I love that.” Looking down into his little face, I can see both Rochelle and Cory in his features, maybe a little more Cory, or maybe for Rochelle’s sake, I’m just hoping there’s more Cory. I take over her seat and she walks to Dalton.
They hug, no words, just an embrace that shows they’ve gone through something tragic, something life changing together. Then I hear her say, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asks, looking at her.
Although I feel I’m invading their private moment, I’m glad I hear what she says next, “For your loss.”
I stifle a sniffle and glance down at the sweet baby in my arms.
Dalton says, “He was my best friend.”
“You were his,” she replies with ease and a small lift of her mouth, but not quite a smile.
Rochelle just gave him a gift, she released the burden Dalton was carrying and now he gets to grieve. Peeking at them again, I see the dark lift from his face and a small grin appears. It’s been too long since I’ve seen it, and my heart warms.
“It’s hard to see the light when you’re surrounded by so much dark.” ~Johnny Outlaw