Page 86 of The Problem with Falling
Grandma sniffled. “I’m going to go check on things. Make sure everyone has enough booze to forget we’re sad.” She pulled back slightly, brushed away her tears, then placed her hands against my cheeks. “Grandma loves you.”
I bent down and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too.”
She walked out of the kitchen to the rowdy living room space that was playing all of PaPa’s favorite music on the jukebox. As she pushed open the swinging door, “A Horse with No Name” by America blasted through the air.
I wished more funerals had highly inappropriate music for the occasion. It made it all feel a little less traumatic.
I wasn’t ready for the music, though.
I stayed in the kitchen, standing still in my fucked-up emotions. I picked up PaPa’s tin of recipes and began to flip through them. They were covered in flour and oils from being used so often. For decades, his fingers paged through those cards. His fingerprints were imprinted on the cards. His love was within his cursive writing on those pages. But still…he was gone.
I felt sick.
I felt confused.
I felt lonely.
The kitchen door pushed open, and in walked Willow. She stood there with her hair in two French braids, dressed in orange, and a small smile on her face. Her eyebrows knitted together the moment she saw me.
“Hi, Mr. Grump,” she whispered, walking toward me.
“Hi, Weeping Willow.”
“I heard rumors of your mother maybe being here.”
“Yes.”
“Did you see her?”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Sad?”
“Yes.”
“Confused?”
“Very.”
“Angry?”
“Beyond.”
“Okay.” She took my hands in hers, laced our fingers together, then pulled me into a hug. I shut my eyes. There it was.Comfort.Willow Kingsley and her goddamn comfort.
I tried to stay as stable as I could as I leaned into her.
“It’s okay, Theo,” she softly said. “Go ahead and break. I’ll keep you from falling.”
That permission was all I needed before I burst into grown-man sobs. I never cried in front of anyone, except for my grandparents, when I was a kid and got fed up with the bullying. I never fell apart in public where another could witness my cracks. I’d never shattered with an audience. Yet for some reason, Willow didn’t feel like just another person. She felt like another piece of me. A stable post that kept me from drowning.
I still felt sick.
I still felt confused.
