Page 63 of Rock On

“Sure, honey. But just one. If everyone takes all the shells, there won’t be any left to enjoy next time.”

He frowned but nodded, racing ahead of us to kick the sand and spin in circles.

“So much energy,” Tommy murmured, standing next to me as we watched River play.

“He’ll wear himself out and then be ready to settle down to have lunch.”

“He looks just like Carter,” he said after a moment. “Not just the eyes, but the way he smiles too. Even some of his mannerisms.”

“I know.”

“I miss him,” he said, staring out at the water.

“Me too.” I slid my hand into his and he laced his fingers with mine.

“I wish I’d had a chance to say goodbye. To hug him one more time. Something. Anything except that damn phone call telling me he was gone.”

“I knew,” I admitted. “I mean, I didn’t know when or where or how, but he talked about it often. I begged him to get help, but he said he didn’t need help. He just needed peace. He once told me his addiction was like another person living inside his head. It spoke to him, called to him, taunted him, until he couldn’t resist anymore. Only when he was high, did those voices shut up.”

“I fucking hate that for him.”

“Same.”

“Uncle Tommy, look!” River pointed to a seagull that had landed a few feet away from him. “He’s my new friend.”

“Did you name him?” Tommy called back.

River didn’t miss a beat. “His name is Onyx.”

“Do you know what onyx means?” Tommy asked, walking toward him.

River shrugged his little shoulders. “It’s my daddy’s band.”

Oh, geez.

Did I talk about Carter and Onyx Knight too much?

I didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing to keep his father’s memory alive. Would River still have these memories in a few years? Would the pictures and videos I often showed him eventually replace actual memories until he didn’t know what he remembered and what I’d shown him?

“Onyx is another way of saying jet black,” Tommy said patiently.

“It’s a color?”

“Yup. It’s also a precious stone that has black and white stripes.”

“Do you have one?”

“One what? An onyx stone?” Tommy nodded. “I do. I have lots of them. Someday, you can come over to my house and I’ll show you my collection.”

“Yay!” River clapped his hands and then ran after the poor seagull, who would fly a few feet away before landing again, eyeing his tormentor suspiciously.

“Does he remember his dad?” Tommy asked me quietly.

“I don’t know. I talk about him a lot, because I didn’t want him to forget, but he was two. It’s inevitable that he’ll forget, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

“We can keep his memory alive, with pictures, videos, and music. Between the four of us in the band, we have a lot of stories to tell. Some of them are even G-rated.”

I chuckled. “Probably not nearly as many as the R-rated ones.”

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