Page 88 of Surviving the Merge
“Ah, I volunteer here?” That earned me a slap to the forehead. “Ow.”
“You know what I mean,” she said.
Rubbing the abused area, I said, “I’m taking the class, then taking you out for lunch.”
“Geez, I barely touched you. Stop being a baby.” She brushed my hand away and tiptoed to kiss the spot. “I’d love to have you sit in. Find a spot. We’re about to start.”
I grabbed her hand as she turned to walk away. “Hey, I have a favor to ask.”
“Sure, anything for you.”
I retrieved a picture from my wallet. “Can you paint this for me? A portrait?”
“Are you asking me if I have the ability to paint it for you? Or if Iwillpaint it for—”
“Sammmmm…”
“Fine. You’re no fun today. When do you need it?”
“Whenever you can get it done. I know you’re pretty busy here and with work back in the city.”
“Okay, give me a couple of weeks.” She snapped a picture with her phone, handing me back the original.
I kissed her button nose. “I love you.”
* * *
Damon's carsat in the driveway. My dash clock read 4:00 p.m. I wasn’t expecting him until much later.
“You’re early,” I greeted him, entering the living room.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I couldn’t get much work done, so I called it an early day.” He jumped topics. “Why is this here?” He pointed at the urn.
“Why ishehere?” I asked. Damon didn’t answer. “You need him.Weneed him. He’s my brother—”
“Wasyour brother,” he interrupted.
I didn’t know if that was in reference to our divorce or Benji’s death. Damon’s moods shifted in waves and took me along for the ride. It would appear we were sailing on annoyance, now. I dropped all pretenses. “I want to know more about him. I’d like for you to share him with me.” I’d seen Benjamin through Blake’s eyes. Not Damon’s. Not with any real emotion, only detachment. He turned away from me urgently. I watched the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders. Minutes ticked by without a word uttered. Maybe I went too far, too soon. Maybe I should—
“He was small. Small likeher. Even at two, I could still raise him in the air with his bum sitting in my palm.” He raised an empty hand.
I almost made a quip about how big his palms were but thought better of it.
“I knew he would always need to be protected. Iknew.”
“You couldn’t have known, Damon—”
“But I did!” He faced me again. Heartbreak etched lines into his face. “I knew what could happen, but I left him with her anyway.”
Remaining rooted to the opposite side of the room, steering away from any talk about who was to blame, I asked him to share a memory with me.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looked to the ceiling, squinting and searching his memory. “He fell once. It happened on Ashton’s watch. It’s one of the few times Ash and I almost came to blows. Ben—”
Damon swallowed. He couldn’t say Benji’s name.
“Hewas running around the backyard with Ash and tripped on a toy hidden by the grass. He cut his knee. A shallow cut, but he cried hysterically anyway. I sat him on the toilet in the bathroom, cleaned and bandaged his knee. He looked up at me, his bottom lip still quivering, and held his arms out. I hugged him, but it wasn’t the right kind of hug. My hugs never were. They didn’t seep through skin, burrowing into bones,” he said.
I internally disagreed. Damon’s hugs conveyed ownership and a warrior’s protection. A different form of love. But still love.
