“How can I say goodbye to him?” I wail, not for myself but for my son. Every night, he tells me that I’m going to get better and I’ve let him believe that. If he knew the truth, there’s no way we would be able to get him to go to sleep at night for fear something would happen while he sleeps. I won’t allow my son to live with a lifetime of regrets, knowing that he never got to say goodbye to me, so tonight will likely be the last time I see my son.
Melanie can’t talk over her own sobbing. She looks to the ceiling, trying to regain her composure. This time, I’m the one handing her a tissue because she’s a hot mess right now.
“I need you to take care of them. I’m not scared for me, but if I think about how Jacob and Xavier are going to move past this, I’m terrified.” I know I need to do this, but it doesn’t ease the churning in my stomach. My body shakes as I work up the courage to continue speaking. This is the first, and likely the easiest, of the conversations I need to have today but all I want to do is sleep.
What I’m about to ask her is something I’ve known I needed to since the night after she and Xavier spent the day walking around Nassau. Seeing the way she masked whatever pain she was feeling when she saw my son was like a beacon pointing to the answer to my one remaining fear. The way her brown eyes lit up as she talked about taking my little boy on a “date” melted my heart. That was also the day all the pieces of her puzzle fell into place in my mind.
“Melanie, I need you to promise me that you will be there for them,” I beg, tears falling fast enough to create stains on my t-shirt. “I’ll be fine, as long as I know you’re here for them.”
My first assumption is that she wants me to be there in the days and weeks after she passes. But then, my mind drifts back to Christmas, when she asked me to make sure Jacob knows she’s with him. As she waits for me to respond, I get the impression she isn’t talking about immediately following her death or sporadic visits. She’s asking me to be a part of their lives in her absence.
My knuckles turn white from how tightly I’m holding the arms of the chair. If I don’t, I’m afraid I will run out of the house and never return. Months of lies are exploding around me as Alyssa pleads with me to take care of her husband and son when she’s gone. She sees me as this amazing friend to her in her time of need, someone she can trust, when the truth is that our entire friendship is based on a foundation of lies.
“Alyssa, I need to tell you something,” I say quietly. I have to stop for a moment, trying to clear the sour taste from my mouth. My head tips forward, allowing my long brown hair to create a shield so Alyssa can’t see the emotion in my eyes. I want, more than anything, to promise to help Xavier and Jacob any way I can, but I can’t do that with secrets between us.
“What’s up? I’m sorry, maybe it’s out of line for me to ask you to come back here after I’m gone,” she cries, turning to look out the window. It’s the beginning of March and the snow is finally melting. It’s stupid, but as I watch her staring into the backyard, I wish it was a bit later in the year so the world wasn’t in this in-between stage where everything is shades of brown and gray.
“No, it’s not that.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze. “There’s something you need to know about me and Xavier.” Now, I have her attention. She turns back to me, shifting her body so she’s laying on her side. “We didn’t meet the day I took your case. He and I--”
Alyssa holds up her hand to silence me. I wonder if I’m making the wrong decision. Right or wrong, I pray Xavier doesn’t walk in because I want to give him a warning that she knows the truth about our past. “You don’t have to say anything about you and Xavier. I know.”
I’m not sure which confuses me more, her telling me that she knows or the softness in her voice. It’s as if she’s trying to ease my pain while I’m preparing to cause hers. I shift in my seat, trying to get comfortable. My hand moves to my chest, covering my racing heart. At this point, I figure it’s best to see what she knows before saying anything else. “You know?”
“Sweetie, I’ve known for a while.” This time, she’s the one reaching for me. I take her hand, resting it on the edge of the bed. “I started to wonder that first day Braydon stopped by. After that, I started paying attention and it became clear that you’re the one.”
I’m the one?
If she knows, how does she not hate me? No matter whose fault the demise of our relationship was, I can’t believe she didn’t kick my ass.
“That’s why it has to be you. I can’t think of anyone else who will love them as much as I do, but I know you love them both.” I feel as if we’ve been thrust into some parallel universe as she continues to speak. Where there should be anger and hatred, I hear only kindness in her voice.