The Blessing

by Elizabeth Price

  “Well, you look beautiful, baby. But you look beautiful in anything you wear.” This is the first time I’ve called her “baby” and she doesn’t seem to mind it. In fact, she looks quite content by the way she’s blushing at me. I love calling her that because she is my baby.

  Ronnie smiles and grabs my free hand to hold tightly in hers. “I love it when you call me that.”

  “‘Baby’? I’ve been wanting to call you my baby for a while now, but I didn’t want you to freak-out on me.”

  She laughs at my response and quickly retorts, “I’d never freak-out on you. I like being your anything.”

  “Well, I’ll keep that in mind.” Feeling confident, I wink at her, enjoying the way this night is going already.

  Unfortunately, that enjoyment is short-fucking-lived. As soon as we walk into my parents’ home, I find the party is exactly as I expected it to be. I recognize absolutely no one. Grey’s staring at all the unfamiliar faces in wonder, but as soon as people start to direct their attention at him, he makes a frustrated groan and hides his face in the crook of my neck.

  “You ready to meet my parents?” I ask my girl as I spot my dad in the kitchen surrounded by some of his colleagues.

  She smiles at me, but I can tell she’s trying desperately to hide her nerves. I don’t know what she has to worry about, it feels like she could accomplish just about anything. I hold her hand as I lead us through the crowd, appreciating the warmth of her palm against mine. I feel everyone’s eyes on us as we part through the masses, but with Ronnie by my side, I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks. Their stares range from being curious or dubious, to disbelieving as they watch as I cross the room with a baby in my arms and the hottest woman alive at my side. However, I know they aren’t really staring at the baby nor the woman next to me; they’re staring at me. Covered in tattoos—I look rough in their eyes. In this moment, I realize that no amount of changes I’ve made in my life will alter anyone’s initial perception of me.

  When we finally reach my dad, my agitation dissipates, happy he’s talking to someone I recognize. With a beer in hand, he looks more relaxed and happy than I’ve seen him in a very long time. I stare at the ice-cold drink as it sweats in his hand and feel my mouth go dry with want. I lick my lips as I imagine the hoppy taste quenching my thirst. What could one drink hurt? It takes all the power within me to reel myself in and not grab a drink for myself from the bar setup in the kitchen. My strained eyes meet my dad’s gaze, and he gives me an odd look—as if he were trying to decipher what the hell was running through my mind. He knew I liked to party—but I don’t think he realizes the depth of my problems. Hell, I can’t blame him. I’ve never had the balls to tell him about my struggles. The way he sees straight through me, though… It’s obvious he knows now. I give him a small, tight smile and give his colleague a polite wave “hello.”

  “Dad, this is my date, Veronica Clark; Ronnie, this is my dad, Arthur Warren.”

  Ronnie reaches forward to give my dad a polite handshake. He rewards her an impressed smile as she gives his hand two firm pumps before pulling away.

  “So, you’re the beautiful, young lady my son can’t stop talking about.”

  “Dad,” I say, sounding pissed and shocked all at the same time. Way to play it fucking cool, Dad. Don’t feel bad about embarrassing me or anything like that. Next, he’ll be telling her all about how I came to him for relationship advice. I turn to Ronnie, who’s blushing at my side, seemingly pleased by my dad’s comment.

  “I’m just joking, Trevor. It’s very nice to meet you.” When he notices I’m still glaring at him for practically outing me in his previous comment, he smiles at me and continues, “So, how did you two meet?”

  I give him a grateful smile and he winks at me before taking a sip of his beer.

  “Well, I saw him around town a few times but I was always way too shy and nervous to approach to him. So, when I saw he moved in next to me, I knew I finally had my chance.”

  She wanted to approach me long before we ever spoke? “So, you wanted to talk to me long before you saw me move in?”

  Ronnie gives me a small smile and says, “Well, you’re kind of hard not to want, Trev.”

  Fuck, I feel like I’ve fallen in love with this girl all over again! I wasn’t sure about my feelings before—mostly because I was too frightened to admit them to myself—but now, as I see her confidently smiling up at me while she informs me she’s been into me for some time—I know I’ve fallen in love with this girl. I’m completely fucking smitten.

  “We started talking when Grey was teething and I heard his cries,” Ronnie explains to my dad as I stand quiet at her side—too shocked by the realization of my feelings to contribute to the current conversation. “So, I stopped by and helped out and it progressed from there.”

  “Well, that’s great,” Dad responds with an approving look on his face. “Trevor needs a girl like you in his life.”

  Ronnie blushes and I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close against my side. My mother enters the room, and all the relaxed energy quickly disappears. She gives me a terse smile before walking towards us. I swear, even when she’s happy and attending an event which should give her some enjoyment, she still finds a way to be overtaxed. Her posture is rigid as she crosses the room. She greets me with a forced smile and doesn’t even bother to acknowledge Ronnie. I can’t help but cringe. Still, I decide to put my feelings aside because I want to at least say I tried with her.

  Wanting to put the past behind us, I hand Grey to Ronnie and put my arms around my mother to give her a quick, birthday hug. Our embrace is one-sided, but I’m patient, waiting for her to relax in my arms and hug me in return. I feel dad staring at our interaction, observing us as if we were two strangers. I wonder what we must look like to him—his son hugging his wife’s rigid body without reciprocation. Once reality sinks in and I realize her ice-cold demeanor is unwavering and she’s not going to return my embrace, I pull back to look at her face. I find absolutely nothing. Her expression is blank and her eyes are dead. I look to my dad, who’s staring at me with a look I don’t want to begin to understand. He looks at my mother as if he was seeing her for the very first time and then looks back to me, his features softening slightly before he gives me a smile that is filled with grief.

  Wanting to break the uncomfortable silence, I introduce my mother to my girl. She looks dazed as she automatically reaches out to shake Ronnie’s hand. She seems almost traumatized by the hug I gave her.

  “Ronnie, this is my mother,” I say weakly.

  “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Ronnie attempts to exchange pleasantries with her—but her endeavor is futile. I’m happy she tried because I know my mother can be fucking intimidating when she’s like this. My dad steps back, excusing himself to grab another beer. This is probably the best opportunity I’ll have tonight to ask him for Grey’s birth certificate and the records I’ll need to file for his benefits.

  “Ronnie, do you mind hanging out for a bit? I need to get that stuff from my dad.”

  She gives me an encouraging smile and kisses me on the cheek before I follow after my dad. He’s heading to his office, so he must be getting the “good stuff” he keeps stashed away from my mother. I look over my shoulder toward Ronnie, and find her sitting at the kitchen table, playing with Grey on her lap. I notice Mother is completely ignoring her. At least Ronnie’s got our little man to keep her company. I pick up my step and catch-up to my dad before he opens the door to his office.

  “Can—can you wait up for a second? I need to talk to you about something.”

  He nods and gives me a tired smile before opening up the door to his home office. I haven’t been inside this room since high school, but it’s exactly as I remembered. It has the same leather furnishings and old pictures of our family lining the walls and covering his desk. I stop and stare at a picture of Dean and me. He must’ve been seven or eight at the time, and I must’ve been in kindergarte
n. It was taken at a park we used to go to all the time near our old elementary school. Dean had his arm around my shoulders—towering over me at nearly a foot taller. He was so tan back then. In the photo, his dark brown hair was sticking up in all directions from hours of playing after school. I smile as I look at him and reach out to trace his features with my index finger. He looks so much like our mom—with his dark hair and brown eyes—whereas I take after our dad. I always thought he and I looked sort of like him—but now, as I’m studying this picture, I realize we don’t look alike at all. We’re more likes opposites when it comes to our looks. I suppose our personalities were similar; even though I was the fuck-up and he was the star athlete, we both had the same kind heart. I just didn’t show it off quite like he did. We grew up fighting all the time, but we always made up, and he was always my best friend. Fuck, I wish you were here, Brother. A lump develops in my throat and I have to look away before I break-down. Hopefully, one day I’ll be able to remember the happy times without feeling this survivor’s grief.

  “That’s my favorite photo of the two of you,” Dad comments as he steps up to stand by my side.

  “You used to take us to that park every weekend,” I muse, unable to look away from my brother’s smiling face in the picture. It’s awful looking at his bright, shinning face and knowing he had no idea what the future had in store for him. “I don’t know how you had the patience to watch us like that for hours,” I continue, trying to lighten my mood.

  “Well, you guys meant the world to me. Watching you was no trouble. I know you’ll understand when Greyson’s old enough to do that stuff. Sure, it’s stressful at first, but it’s worth it just to see your child happy.”

  “I can’t wait for him to get a bit older. I just want him to be able to talk to me.”

  “Has he said his first word yet?”

  I contemplate whether or not I should tell him that he’s been saying “da” today. Would it hurt my dad the way it had initially hurt me to hear? I decide to tell him a half-truth. “He’s been babbling a lot, but I’m sure he’ll say his first word soon enough. Some of what he garbles on about sound like words—but they also sounds like gibberish.” My dad laughs and gives me a knowing look. “He stood up for the first time, though. So, that’s exciting.”

  “Really?” he asks, pride filling his tone due to his grandson’s milestone. “Your mother never mentioned that. Maybe he’s only stood up around you.”

  “Maybe,” I agree—although, I know he’s done it for Ronnie, too. “He acts shy sometimes.”

  “That’s the way you were when you were a baby. You were shy, but once you warmed up to a person, you were hilarious. You were the happiest baby I’d ever seen.”

  I smile, even though the idea of me being a happy baby seems like a foreign one. “I must’ve been really annoying.”

  “No, you were wonderful. You were a great kid, Trevor.”

  “I know I was a pain in the ass.” At least, that’s what my mother has led me to believe. “Grey’s wonderful, though. Actually, he’s the reason I wanted to talk to you.”

  Dad grows serious all of a sudden, and with a concerned look he takes a seat at his desk and gestures for me to sit across from him.

  “I just need his birth certificate and whatever records you have on him to apply for benefits. I need the guardianship documents from the will and Dean and Cat’s death certificates, as well. I need to apply for Survivor Benefits for Grey. I’m not entirely sure what he’ll be eligible for because I just found out all about this the other day…” I nervously trail off, not wanting to sound like a complete fucking idiot to my dad.

  Dad looks at me for a very long time, his lips morph into a frown and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Trevor?” he finally asks, a hint of anger filling his voice. “How have you not been receiving benefits for Greyson? I thought your mother gave you all that information you needed and helped you file the applications? I told her specifically what she needed to do and she told me she went over it with you. I would’ve helped you out myself, but I’ve been really busy at work as of late. I guess I should’ve been keeping track of this. However, she told me you filed and were already approved for full benefits.” Dad’s voice grew louder with each word, and by the time his explanation is finished—he’s practically fuming.

  “She never spoke to me about it, Dad,” I quickly defend myself. “I never even knew about any of this shit until my therapist brought it up to me the other day.”

  “I’ll have to have a word with your mother then,” Dad says quietly. I learned early on to fear my father when he’s quiet. He’s not one to lose control or make a scene, but when he’s angry, his voice becomes dangerously soft and his stare can cut through you like a knife. Luckily, it appears his anger isn’t directed at me. “File for the benefits as soon as you can, Trevor.” He stands up from his seat and runs an agitated hand through his hair. He walks over to a family portrait which is hanging on the wall. He removes it and opens the wall safe. I never knew that safe was there. He retrieves a file—which I assume is the paperwork I need. “You must excuse me. I need to have a word with your mother.” He gives me a tight, apologetic smile before briskly walking out of the room.

  After my dad leaves, I look over the documents from the file. When I see Dean’s death certificate, my hearts drops and my lungs constrict. Unconsciously, I rise from my seat. I feel myself move toward the door—but I’m too far gone to gain a semblance of control over my own body. I end up in front of the picture of Dean and me that I was looking at earlier. We were young; we were happy; we were so carefree. It’s strange to look at a picture of someone who is now long gone. I stare at his contented face with the sickening feeling that he had no idea how short his life would be. That little boy didn’t know he would grow up, have his dream family, and then would tragically meet his end. I’m surprised to feel wetness on my cheeks; I was so lost in thought, I didn’t even know I was fucking crying. I leave the office, unable to stand being surrounded by these memories a moment longer.

  I’m in a daze as I walk down the vacant hallway—my mind still filled with thoughts of my brother. The sound of my dad’s voice coming from the end of the hall brings me back to reality. He’s yelling. I’ve never heard him yell like this before. I hear my mother’s voice, as well, sounding defensive. I follow their voices, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  “Evelyn, how could you do that to him? How could you do that to that your own grandson? What the fuck were you thinking?”

  I’ve never heard my father curse.

  “It must have slipped my mind. I’ll make it right, I promise. You know how much I love them.” Her voice sounds so artificially sweet. “Let’s not fight. Not tonight. There’s a party going on downstairs and everyone we know is here.”

  Dad’s silent for a long time. I can imagine him standing utterly speechless, contemplating what to do next.

  “Arthur? What is it?” I hear my mother ask.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says in what sounds to be resignation, “and you’ve always been so determined. Even when it comes to doing something so utterly vindictive. But you’re not strong, Evelyn, and I don’t know if you’re ever really caring.”

  “What are you talking about, Arthur?” I hear my mother ask, sounding frustrated.

  “Do you love me, Evelyn? Do you really love me? I’ve given up so much for you, for our family.” There’s a pregnant pause. “I’ve given up so much and you act like this. So, I just need to know if you really love me. If you’ve ever loved me.”

  “I feel the same way I’ve always felt about you.”

  A bitter laugh escapes my dad. “Everything would’ve been all right if Dean hadn’t died. You can’t handle the mess that comes with losing a child. You can’t even pull yourself together to hold onto the son we have left. When Dean died, it’s like the best part of you died with him… and I just don’t understand it, Evelyn. I’ve helped you in every way I know how. I’ve grieved with
you. I’ve watched you turn your back on Trevor. I don’t know what you expect me to do now.”

  “Arthur—” she begins, cut off by her own sob.

  “Let me think about this, Evelyn. Just give me time to think. If you really withheld those documents because you were feeling malicious… I don’t know what you want from me. I just can’t look at you the same way knowing you would do that to, Trevor—to Greyson!”

  “Trevor!” she spits out bitterly. “He’s all you talk about. All you care about!”

  “He’s my son,” Dad answers with finality.

  “He’s been tearing us apart from the very beginning,” she shoots back. “Can’t you see that? Are you really so blind?”

  I can’t listen to this anymore. I don’t want to know how my mother feels about me, even though part of me has known all along. I’d rather be ignorant than have to feel the pain the truth will most surely bring.

  Chapter 18

  even flow

  With my brother’s death certificate in my hand, I know denial is no longer an option for me. There’s no greater feeling of sorrow then seeing the letters forming the name of a loved one on such an impersonal piece of paper. A piece of paper which forces me to acknowledge the fact that I’ll never see, talk to, or laugh with my older brother ever again. The only place I’ll ever see him is in my mind’s eye. In my memories he’s the happy smartass I once knew. Closing my eyes, I can see him smiling at me now. Seeing his face makes me want to live in this fantasy forever, but I know the longer I hang out here—in this dream world—the sadder I’ll be when I face reality.

  I’ve been fucking useless since we returned home. After hearing my mother’s opinion of me—how I ruined her marriage—paired with being handed my brother and sister-in-law’s death certificates, I’m almost catatonic. Ronnie’s holding Grey and I just exist beside her. My mind is as blank as my expression. I don’t know where the fuck to go from here. I don’t know what to do. My brother is dead and my mother resents me.