Tell Me It's Real(134)

“I just didn’t want you to see pain,” he said. “I didn’t want you to know sadness. I didn’t want you to see me like this. I just wanted you to be happy, every day, all the time.”

“And what about you?” I asked him. “If you knew this was coming, why didn’t you think about what you wanted?”

“Because I was just thinking about you,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You were the person who helped me through this, even when you didn’t know what was happening. You were the guy who made me happy when everything else was going to shit. You were like this light in the dark, Paul. You are my light.”

I groaned. “Sandy’s never going to let me hear the end of this. I’m a motherfucking lighthouse.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Vince said, confused.

“Shit,” I muttered. “We’re really going to do this, aren’t we?”

“You talking about me and you?”

“Yeah?”

“You bet your ass we’re going to do this. There’s no way I’m going to let you go. We got the hard part out of the way. The rest is cake.”

“The hard part?”

He leaned over and kissed me. I didn’t even make mention of how much I wished he’d brushed his teeth before doing that. It seemed like it would spoil the mood. “The love part,” he whispered. “I love you, so the rest will be easy.”

“Oh sweat balls,” I said, feeling a bit dizzy. “Are you sure?”

He nodded.

I mumbled something back.

Wheels snorted at me from his spot between us. Jerk.

“What was that?” Vince asked, a small smile on his face.

“I said I may be thinking that I might possibly entertain the idea of loving you too,” I said, my face on fire.

He chuckled. “I figured as much.” But then the humor slid from his face. “I think,” he said, the words coming out in a choke, “that I’m about to be sad.”

I curled up against him, pressing his face into my neck, wrapping my arms around him tightly. Wheels crawled on top of us, doing his impression of a dogpile. He laid his head down on Vince’s thigh and watched us. “You didn’t get to hear all of what she said to me, did you?” I murmured as he started to quake.

“No,” he gasped. “Only the end.”

“Now, you know I didn’t know her, right? I only knew what I saw of her on TV and in the news.”

A quick nod. A sharp breath.

“Well,” I said, “she loved you, Vince. She loved you because you were her son. She loved you because you belonged to her. She may not have always told you, and she may not have told you in the right way, but she did. Even when you were apart, she did. I don’t think that a day went by that she didn’t think about you, and I don’t expect a day will go by for you now where you won’t think of her. And….” I stopped, considering.

“And what?” he whimpered, starting to break.

“And I think she knew,” I told him. “I think she knew that I would take care of you. I think she knew that you would need someone after she was gone, but that she’d leave you in good hands. I think she needed to meet me to realize that. I think I needed to meet her to understand that.

“So you cry,” I whispered, my chin on top of his head. “You cry because you’re allowed to. You cry because she’s your mom. You cry because she’s your family. But… you have a whole other family now too, if you want it. You have another family that wants nothing more than to take you in and love you just the way you are. If you want to. If you let us.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. I want it. I want it bad. Paul, please. Please. I’m going to cry now, and I’m going to hurt now. Please don’t let me go.”

“I won’t,” I promised him, promised myself. “Do what you have to. I’ll be here.”

And he did.

And I was.





THE funeral was a big thing, a messy thing, with lots of local news coverage. I’m sure there were plenty of people hoping for some kind of delicious drama to occur between Vince and his dad, but nothing happened. As big as it was, it was still a quiet affair, with bowed heads and whispered prayers.

The only thing that could have raised any eyebrows was that Vince did not sit next to his father or the rest of his family. I’d encouraged him to do so, but ever since the morning after his mother had died, he’d taken my words to heart.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when Mom called and asked what time she and Dad and Nana would be picking us up on the day of the funeral. I shouldn’t have been surprised when she told me she’d hear none of what I was saying. They were going, and that was final. Family is family, she said, and she would be there to support Vince. When he’d heard these words, Vince had gotten such a look of wonder on his face that it had taken my breath away. He’d reached out and grabbed my hand, refusing to let go even when my mother insisted on talking to him herself. I could feel the heat from his hand, the bite from his grip as he said things like, “Yes, ma’am, I mean Matty,” and “Thank you, Larry, I’d appreciate it,” into the phone. After saying, “Say hello to Johnny Depp for me, Nana,” he hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment.