Page 50 of Between Now and Always

She’s sobbing openly. I wish I could erase her pain. But my own is compounded by the knowledge that she went through all of that alone. I was licking my wounds and feeling sorry for myself, and her whole world was ending. I’m grateful that I can be here now. But it’s too little, too late.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry I left you alone with that.”

Her sobs quiet, as if she pulled the reigns on them. “None of that was our fault. We… it was just really bad luck.”

She stays in my lap, her head next to my heart. We ride in silence, both adrift in our own thoughts. When we pull up outside her building, she’s asleep.

I wake her, because I don’t trust myself to walk up to her apartment. I’ll want to crawl into bed with her. Hold her until she doesn’t hurt anymore. But I can’t do that.

I can’t do anything.

Except, watch her walk away.

Tell The Truth

BETH

“I don’t understand howthistradition, out of the many beautiful ones that you Americans could have chosen, is the one that gained traction,” Porsha grumbles sullenly as our car pulls away from the curb of our building.

“Stop complaining, girl. I’m a fifty-five year old man wearing the same thing as you two knuckleheads, and you don’t hear me talking shit.”

I spear Joe with a knowing look. This morning when I’d taken his down to him, he’d said, “I’m not wearing that shit.”

That shitis one of those tacky holiday sweaters, complete with a light up turkey on it. It’s ugly as hell, but considered acceptable because it’s the holidays.

“You’re both ruining my fun,” I complain.

“I shouldn’t have let you watch Bridget Jones’ Diary so many times,” Porsha grumbles and I roll my eyes, but don’t hold back my laugh. Because itwasthat movie that gave me the idea.

“See? It’s an international holiday tradition. This our first one together, guys. We can do it every year.” I grin excitedly and they both groan.

“Spoil sports.” I stick my tongue out at both of them and turn to look out the window.

I’m not even a little bit annoyed by their whining. This is our first holiday together, and if I have any say, it won’t be our last, either.

I’ve always dreamed of family traditions like this and I finally have people I create them with. The sweaters were also part of my plan to take both of their minds off the families they would be missing today.

Porsha’s family is in Ghana, and she and her mother aren’t on speaking terms. Her father died and besides an Aunt in Houston and cousins in DC, she’s alone, too. She won’t admit it, but behind her brave, bold exterior, she’s nursing a hurt that flashes in her eyes every time we talk about our families and how fucked up they are.

Joe’s son, of course was a no show. I wasn’t surprised, it fit the pattern.

But, it still sucked that I was right because Joe wanted it to happen so badly.

Up until the night before, Joe had been outwardly optimistic. When I called down to say goodnight, he said he was expecting his son to call no later than 7am so he could be on the road to Delaware and make it there for lunch.

I didn’t want to dampen his hope, so I kept my thoughts, and my plan B to myself.

At nine o’clock I went down on the pretense of giving him the sweater.

I acted when he told me that his plans to visit with his son had changed. I told him the car for the Bosh’s place would be there at noon and handed him the sweater, wrapped up in Thanksgiving themed paper.

He smiled, but his eyes misted over before he pulled me into a fierce hug and went to change. A minute later, he came out his room, refusing to put it on.

It’d had taken some convincing. But, I knew he was just busting my chops and I could tell that he loved what the sweater stood for. And so did Porsha. I’d been so wrapped up in making them happy, I hadn’t spared a thought for what the rest of this day would bring.

As soon as the car arrived and called down for us, all of the apprehension I’d been struggling with came rushing back. What would Penn say to me? His whole family knows the truth about us. Would there be people there who didn’t?

Would Penn be angry because of my father’s treatment of Carter? How would things between Carter and me be today after that intense helicopter and car ride? He didn’t say very much after I told him about the baby. I wonder if he’s angry that I didn’t tell him sooner.

---