I smiled. “Girl’s all grown up.”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I’ll tell her you went up to visit Cain’s old man.”
“What would I do without you?”
“Don’t fucking know, hire a nanny to lie to all the women in your life?” He offered.
I laughed as I walked toward the door, shoving my hands in my pockets and pulling out my fingerless gloves.
“Where’s your cut?” Blackie called out.
I pulled the door open, worked my hands into the gloves, flexing my fingers and cracked my knuckles before I glanced over my shoulder at him.
“Where it belongs,” I replied.
I stared at the historic chapel for a moment, bowing my head. Despite my beliefs that God didn’t exist, I made the sign of the cross. If by some miracle there was a God, then I hoped he was the comforting soul taking care of Jack. So I did it for him.
Green-Wood cemetery was huge, over six hundred thousand graves spanned across the land. In the early years after Jack’s passing I got lost trying to find his grave, made more trips to the office than one ever should. Thirteen years later, I knew exactly where my boy was, and I used the chapel as my guide since he was resting close to it.
I strode across the grass, the leaves crunching under my boots until I found the gray headstone that marked Jack’s home. It didn’t matter how many years had passed or how many times I had been there, each time I saw my name on that stone, the name we shared, I relived the pain of holding his lifeless body.
I crouched down, brushing the leaves away from his stone, and removed the wilted flowers from the last visitor. I ran my fingertips over his name, the year he was born, the year he died and the role he’d forever hold, “Beloved Son.”
“Hi, son,” I whispered hoarsely, “Happy birthday.”
I bowed my head and wiped viciously at the tears that fell from my eyes. I had no right to cry, not in front of him. At first I didn’t cry because I never wanted him to see my tears. He was all alone, no mommy to dry his tears or daddy to ease his fears. The last thing he needed was to see me cry when I was supposed to be the one who told him it was all going to be all right. It was my job to tell him he was in a better place. He was safe. He was in God’s hands and there was no one better off to protect him than he.
Lies.
Every single word.
He wasn’t better off. Nothing would ever be all right. He shouldn’t be in this place and the only hands that should’ve kept him safe were mine.
I reached behind me and pulled the Yankee cap from my back pocket and brought it around, tracing the famous symbol with my finger and bending the rim of the hat. I gripped the hat in my hand as I lifted my head and stared at the stone.
“I had a dream of you last night,” I started. “You were calling out to me but I didn’t recognize your voice at first. It wasn’t the high pitched sound of a baby calling ‘dada,’ or even ‘daddy.’ I think I only heard you say daddy a few times before I didn’t anymore. Is it horrible I don’t remember? I’ve tried for the last thirteen years to remember every day of the two years you lived but your dad’s mind isn’t always on his side. Things get fuzzy for me every once in a while and you slip away from me,” I said, my words catching in my throat. I took a deep breath and tried to gain control over myself. “Anyway, I didn’t recognize your voice because for the first time, I didn’t dream of the boy I lost but instead I dreamt of the young man you never became,” I cried, not able to stop the tears as the reality of my words hit me.
“You weren’t the chubby baby wobbling around getting into everything, looking to explore, you were a young man, a teenager. Today would’ve been your fifteenth birthday and I know now what you would’ve looked like. Handsome little devil, just like your old man,” I tried to tease, like I imagine I would’ve had he lived. These were the years a boy turned more to his father when he learned what it was to become a man and when he noticed there were other women in this world besides his mother. I bet we would’ve had fun with that.
“You know, we may never have had the chance to do all the things a father and son get to do, but you should know in my dreams we’ve done it all. I’ve taught you how to ride your bike. I’ve watched you fall down and I’ve picked you up. We’ve had a catch and we’ve played games where I’ve let you win. And as you got older I didn’t let you win, I made you earn the title of champion. I’ve taught you it’s okay to lose sometimes. I’ve taught you the value of a dollar. I’ve taught you respect. You’ve climbed on my bike and pretended to ride it and I’ve made you drive my car while sitting on my lap. We’ve joked around, we’ve teased your sister, and we even pissed your mother off a time or two. We’ve done it all,” I whispered. “And in all those dreams I’ve never seen your face. Not until last night.”