make my own decision on how much to share, like he always does. Taking a deep breath, I continue, “Mark told me he knew they wouldn’t always be here, and for me to move on. That it’d be hard, but to be happy.”
“He sounds like he was a pretty great guy, Nicole.” I nod in response. I want to ask him what he’s thinking when he hears me talk about Mark or Andrew, but he just looks accepting. Like he knows they’ll always be a part of my life and my memories and he wouldn’t want it any other way. It makes me care about him so much more than I already do because he so easily accepts all of me; baggage and all. I turn away from him before he can see sadness fill my eyes because this time it’s not from my thoughts of Mark or Andrew, it’s the thought of leaving him soon that makes me want to cry.
“He was.”
“What was Andrew like?” I smile when I look at Jake. This is one of the reasons I just absolutely adore this man. It doesn’t matter what he hears, every piece of information flies off his back like he has no problems in the world. He instantly knows the one question that will make me smile.
I do. A big one. I don’t even know how to describe Andrew to other people.
“He was absolutely, the most perfect child ever created.” I smile this time without any sadness; just complete peace. I’m not sure what brought it on. Perhaps the more I share the easier it becomes to move on. I wonder if instead of keeping all the memories bottled up inside of me, if sharing them with others helps their memories live on forever.
Jake rolls his eyes in amusement. “That’s the bullshit answer all moms give. Tell me something real.”
And before I know it, I’m reliving every possible memory I can think of with Andrew. Chase and Jake laugh along with me. I notice when Garrett joins the conversation at some point, but I don’t stop talking. He’s become so much like a brother to me just like the others that I’m completely content having him listen in as well. I watch Jake lean over and whisper something in his ear.
Several times I wipe the tears that fall from my eyes – in happiness and sadness. I have no idea how long I talk, but the whole time, Zack sits next to me, one hand wrapped around my shoulder and the other holding my hand in his lap. I feel his affection for me grow with every passing minute and I gain strength to continue simply from his touch.
“One February, Andrew was almost three. It was freezing outside; like negative ten degrees or something and there was about two feet of snow outside. I was getting lunch ready downstairs in the kitchen while he played Legos in the room. When I looked out the kitchen window, I saw a huge pile of clothes and toys all over the snow. I ran upstairs and found the window wide open and the screen was gone. I was so angry I totally lost it.” I wipe tears away from laughing at the memory. “I went into some crazed-ballistic-mom mode that I didn’t even know existed. I yelled - he cried, so afraid at my freak out - but I was so mad that he broke the window screen. I made him get all bundled up, go outside and pick all of it up. When he finally came back inside, the garbage can I had put on the deck to collect everything was totally overflowing. The clothes were soaking wet and the toys were freezing cold. I finally apologized and gave him some hot cocoa to warm up.” I shake my head. “I was still finding Legos in the yard when I sold the house almost two years later.”
I have no idea how long I talk, but the more stories I tell, the easier it becomes and before too long, I feel freer and lighter than I have felt ever since I lost them. Eventually the guys excuse themselves, using some excuse about practicing to leave the table without being awkward. I flush with sisterly warmth when they reach over and hug me and thank me for sharing. I am blessed to know each of them.
When we’re alone, Zack leans over and presses a gentle kiss on my temple. It’s comforting; not seductive