Page 97 of Falling Too Late

I could see the anger in his eyes. Anger that would come and go in our younger years, but seemed to have taken root now.

“All these years,” he shook his head, “I thought you just moved on without me.”

“No, Alex. I never moved on from you. I would never move on from you.” I allowed myself to feel his pain. The thought of him moving on from me, it hurt deep in my bones. An unyielding pain.

He ran his hand through his hair and I missed the length he used to have. The way his hair would start to curl at the nape of his neck. I could imagine the way it felt wrapped around my fingers.

What would it be like to come back and not have a home, your family?

I stepped off of the porch and tentatively reached my hand to him. He looked at it, then back up to me.

“I want to show you something,” I explained, trying to push down the dejected feeling.

He continued to stare at my hand, and just before I started to pull away, he took it in his own. I pulled him toward the side of the house, following the overgrown path out to the shop around back.

We went through the side door, and I flicked the fluorescent lights on. At the back of the shop, boxes piled high.

“What is this?” he asked, releasing my hand and walking in front of me.

“It’s all your things from the house.” I wrapped my arms around myself. I rarely came out here, only when I needed to get another bag of dog food or some yard tools. “You can go through it if you want.” He looked to our right, where a tarp was covering something large.

“What’s that?”

I grabbed the dusty tarp and lifting it to show the tailgate of his truck. I never had the heart to get rid of it and I couldn’t drive it without sobbing every time I was in it.

“You kept it?” His eyebrows lifted high, a glimpse of his younger self coming through.

“I kept everything, Alex. I didn’t get rid of anything that wasn’t solely mine.”

I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough then and I wasn’t now.

He ran his hand over the pickup's tailgate before heading back to the boxes. He pulled a pocketknife out and cut the tape, opening it up and pulling out a shirt that I could immediately tell wouldn’t fit him anymore. The boy I once knew was now a man. Reddish brown stubble covered his strong jaw.

“Everyone helped me after you were taken. After Gloria’s diagnosis. Troy, Gavin, Dan, and Jon.”

“Stop.” His voice was stern. “I don’t want to hear about Jon right now, Wren.”

I stood there quietly, unsure what to do. His hands dropped to his sides and his palms opened and closed. I watched as the muscle’s in his arms flexed while he stared down at his boxed belongings.

I wanted to stay and watch him, but a part of me didn’t feel like I had that privilege anymore. This man in front of me wasn’t the same boy I grew to love so many years ago. He was a different person now. I didn’t know him.

Quietly, I slipped out of the shop and headed back into the house. Without giving it much thought, I headed into my studio. I unclipped my work in progress from the easel and set it in a folder before placing a blank page up on it.

I took a whole piece and started to add color, using my fingers to smudge parts out, adding texture where it needed it. I lost track of time while I was working on it. King’s hungry whine caused me to realize it was dark outside. I closed the room and headed to the kitchen, fixing him and Queen their meals. Queen was nowhere to be found, which was unusual for her.

I decided that I wanted a quick dinner. I made grilled cheese sandwiches with a can of tomato soup. I plated everything and stared down at the two plates. I wanted to take one out to Alex. A peace offering. I was still trying to wrap my head around everything.

I took it out to the shop.

Alex had cleared the back of the shop out, moving his old mattress out from behind everything and placing it on the ground, sitting on it while he read through something. Surprisingly, Queen was lying behind him on the mattress, raising her head as I walked in. I was a little shocked to find that neither of the dogs had any issues with Alex, but then I really thought about it.

I still had one of Alex’s blankets from when we were kids. It was the blanket I pulled out on cold mornings. It was folded up on the end of my bed now. It had lost the smell of him years ago, but the dogs slept on it for years. Maybe they recognized him.

I stopped, waiting for him to look up at me.

For a moment, I got a glimpse of the boy I used to know. His face was soft, like his guard had dropped.

Queen’s tail thumped on the ground, and she stood, stretching lazily before walking over to me, her nose in the air taking interest in the food in my hands.

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