Sleep refuses me once again, just as it did last night after I returned from seeing Kason. I was so upset after what had happened that I couldn’t even talk to my mom about it when I came back in tears. She gave me space, and luckily, I didn’t have to wait long until Micah returned from the beach. He found me sitting in my room, crying. He asked what had happened, and I told him everything.
Once he was able to calm me down enough to quiet my tears, I told him to take me back home. When we went downstairs to explain everything to my mom, she talked me into not leaving until after the funeral.
“You don’t have to talk to him, but you should at least show up,” she said.
“He doesn’t want to see me. You should’ve seen how angry he was, Mom.”
“Of course, he was. Right now, he’s angry at the whole world. But I think it would hurt him more if you didn’t show up.”
It took some convincing, but I eventually conceded to staying. So here I lay, next to Micah, who is sound asleep while my memories wrap around me like a web. I try to ignore the real reason why I want to go back to Miami so badly. The reason being, that ever since I came here and saw Kason, I’ve been feeling way too much, more than I’m willing to acknowledge. It’s confusing me and heightening my emotions. I’ve cried far too much in this past week, and I’m starting to wear down.
Micah inhales deeply as he rolls over and drapes his arm across my stomach. His long hair is mussed, and when I run my fingers through it to push it off his forehead, my chest tightens around my heart.
It’s sadness and love mixed together.
As I stare down at his face, which is smooth and peaceful, the face my lips have touched every inch of, I silently tell myself that I love him. Somehow, it feels more like I’m trying to remind myself, but I need no reminding. He’s been my constant, the one who was able to give me exactly what I needed to mend and grow strong. He stood by my side and helped me battle away the demons. He was there every step of the way. And he’s here now—loving and supporting me the way he always has.
His face then illuminates in a soft glow, and when I turn my head, I notice the light is coming from the screen of my cell phone.
Reaching over, I pick it up to find a text from Kason.
Kason: Stay.
I read the single word several times before I text back.
Me: Stay?
Kason: After the funeral. Don’t go.
I look over at Micah, who’s still sound asleep, and then I roll on my side, away from him.
Me: I have to. We’re meeting with our realtor to find a place to live.
Kason: Let him go then, and you stay.
I type my reply slowly, scared to know the truth behind his request.
Me: I’ve only made everything worse by coming. Why would you want me to stay?
There’s a panging in my chest as I wait for his response, and when it finally comes, the pang hits harder.
Kason: Because I need you.
I swallow thickly, and I can’t figure out how those words make me feel. One thing I do know is that I shouldn’t allow him to say things like that to me. Instead of telling him that, I reply:
Me: You were so angry with me yesterday. All I seem to be doing is hurting you, and I don’t want to do that.
Kason: Just tell me you’ll stay.
His persistence makes me nervous, and when Micah shifts from behind me, I instantly feel guilty for even texting Kason like a thief in the night. So, in the fret of my conscience nagging, I do the right thing by Micah.
Me: I’m sorry. But I have to go back home and take this trip.
I keep the phone in my hand and wait for his response, but it never comes. After about fifteen minutes, I set the phone back on the nightstand before rolling over and curling up with Micah while I continue to battle with falling asleep.
When morning arrives, my lids are heavy, and Micah takes notice, kissing them and asking, “Another rough night?”
“Yeah.”
“You should have woken me.”
“Why?” I ask as he pulls me in closer while we linger in bed. “There’s no need for both of us to be miserable and tired.”
“I hate that this trip has been so hard on you. Only a few more hours and then we can get back home.”
Micah starts dropping kisses along my shoulder as my mind goes back to last night’s texts, throwing my guilt in the opposite direction. I don’t like the thought of Kason burying his mother today just to be left all alone afterward.
“What if I stayed?”
He pulls back and gives me a look of confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know. I just feel like my mom has a lot going on right now, and I wonder if she could use my help,” I say too easily, knowing it’s only a blanket I’m using to cover the truth. I don’t even know why I just did that, and I want to take it back just as quickly as I put it out there. “I mean, I know I can’t stay. A part of me just feels bad for leaving her right now.”
Being the great guy that he is, he entertains the idea, saying, “You really think she needs the help?”
I shrug, hating myself for even mentioning this half-truth. The thing is, she does have a full plate right now, but that wasn’t the true reason behind my asking. “It was just a thought. I’m sure she’s fine. Forget I said anything.”
He gives me a curious look, but I reassure him with a smile.
We’re not quick to abandon the bed, lingering as long as we can before we’re forced to hop in the shower and get dressed. Dread fills my stomach, and Micah takes notice of my jitters while I finish my makeup.
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him weakly. Truth is, I’m nervous about the funeral, I’m nervous about saying my last goodbye, I’m nervous about seeing Kason after the big blow up, and I’m nervous for him to see me with Micah. There’s so much anxiety swarming inside me that it’s causing my stomach to ache.
“How can I help?”
I twist the cap back on to my lip gloss and turn to face Micah. Reaching up, I run my hand along his jaw and push up onto my toes to kiss his lips. It’s a still kiss, neither of us moving as he allows me to seek contentment in it. His hands press into my back, pulling me tighter against him, and when my mouth breaks from his, I hug him. We take this quiet moment to lean on each other, and when he whispers, “Tell me what you need,” I answer easily, saying, “I just need you.”
That’s exactly what he gives me, holding my hand and never letting go as we walk downstairs. Words are at a minimum as the three of us get into my mother’s SUV and drive to the cemetery. Again, he takes my hand when he helps me out of the car and keeps it secured in his. My heart pounds so hard, I feel its thundering deep down in my stomach, and when we walk into the chapel, Kason is already there—alone. He sits in the front pew hunched over with his head in his hands and his mother in the casket in front of him.
My mom goes to him, and when she sits at his side and wraps her arm around his broad shoulders, his head falls against hers like a little child. It breaks my heart because I want to be able to give him comfort, too, but I’m terrified as Micah and I stand at the back of the room.
In a way, I feel like an intruder, like I don’t belong here.
She whispers something in his ear, and he lifts his head. I go numb when he turns and looks over his shoulder at me and then Micah. I take in his tear-stained, splotchy face before he turns back around.
My hand has a death grip on Micah’s as he begins to walk. Out of respect, he seats us a few rows back from Kason and my mom. From where we sit, I can hear Kason sniffing as my mother attempts to console him. And it’s now, finally seeing the two of them together, that I realize the magnitude of the bond they share. It’s as if she’s consoling her own child, and I thank God that she took him into her heart. I don’t even want to think about what his life would be like without her.
I watch as a few people file in, and soon Micah’s parents join us. Jillian takes in my sadness and holds my hand in hers while Micah keeps his arm wrapped around me. I look up to see the pastor talking to Kason and my mom. He says something, and Kason shakes his head before dropping it back down into his hands while my mom rubs his shoulder. She gives him the okay to begin the service, and it’s at this point, with only a handful of people in the pews, my heart breaks a little more. I’ve always known that Kason and his mother lived a very quiet and deprived life, but to see so few people here reminds me of just how alone Kason truly is in this world.
The service is short, but my tissues are soaked. Micah kisses the top of my head and wipes a few stray tears from my face before we make our way out to the gravesite. Kason’s eyes avoid the two of us, but mine stay on him as I watch silent pain stream down his face. Last words are spoken from the pastor, and soon enough, the few people that showed up disperse.
Jillian and Dan go over to offer their condolences and then step to the side with my mother, leaving Kason alone.
“We should go say something,” Micah says, giving me an encouraging look. “It would be wrong not to.”
I give him a timid nod, and when we approach Kason, I pull my hand away from Micah, not wanting to flash our affections in front of him. I watch anxiously as Micah holds his hand out for Kason. They shake, and Micah keeps his words polite and on the surface.
“It’s been a while.”
Kason flicks his eyes to me for a split second before returning them to Micah. “It has.”
“I’m really sorry about your mom.”
“Yeah, man. It’s life, right?” he says stiffly, and when Micah takes a step away, Kason turns his head to me.
I step up to him and give him a hug. We keep it short, and when we break away, I get choked up again. Unable to speak, he grants me reprieve, murmuring, “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”
My face twists painfully as tears continue to flow, and with his eyes still pinned on me, I duck my head and turn around. Micah’s arm slips over my shoulders, and I start to break down as we walk away to wait for my mother in the car.
“I feel so bad for him,” I weep.
“I know you do. It’s a horrible situation.”
“He has no family now. He doesn’t even have friends.”
Micah continues to do his best to comfort me, and after a while, my mother opens the door and slips in behind the wheel with a heavy sigh.
She turns in her seat and lays her hand on my knee. “Are you okay, dear?”
“I didn’t think this would be so hard.”
Her own tears slip down her cheeks, and she’s quick to wipe them as she turns back around. Looking over my shoulder through the back window, I see Kason in the distance, sitting in one of the empty chairs with the pastor.
“What is he doing?”
“He wanted to be alone,” my mom tells me as she starts the car.
“He’ll be fine,” Micah says, and I want to believe him.
My mother cries quietly while she drives us back to the house. When we walk through the front door, she’s quick to kick off her heels, and I do the same. None of us know what to say as we walk into the kitchen. My mother pulls out a bottle of beer from the fridge and hands it to Micah before pouring herself a glass of wine. The two of them swallow down big gulps while I take a seat on one of the barstools at the island.
“When are you guys heading out?” she asks Micah as she leans against the countertop.
“About an hour.”
Her lips lift in a melancholy grin for a brief moment before they drop again.
“Are you okay, Mom?”
“Death is never easy,” she says. “The lease on Sharon’s apartment is up next week. Kason isn’t in the right mind to be taking care of all that, so I’m going to have to get everything packed and out of there in the next few days. On top of that, I’m swamped at work.” She takes another sip of her wine as stress marks her face.
Micah catches my eyes and takes notice of how bad I feel for my mother. With a heavy sigh, his shoulders drop a little when he suggests, “Maybe you should stay,” coming back to our earlier conversation.
“Oh no, you don’t need to stay. That wasn’t what I was insinuating.”
“It’s okay, Cheryl. We were actually discussing it this morning.”
“Micah . . .”
He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Look, it isn’t ideal, but we had no idea about any of this when the trip was booked. And you’re right, it’s probably a good idea that you stay and help your mother out.”
“Honestly, I’ll be fine.”
“Mom, I can see how stressed you are.”
She then looks to Micah, and he tells her, “Ady’s felt helpless since we came. When I think about it, this might be a good thing for her.” He then turns to me. “I can take care of everything on my end, as long as you trust me to pick out a place for us to live.”
“But we should be doing this together.”
“We should, but your mother needs you. And we can still do this together, maybe not how we intended, but we can video call, and I can show you the properties that way.”
“Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t have said anything if I weren’t. And I would reschedule the trip, but you know I have meetings with sponsors that I can’t cancel.”
I hesitate to agree.
“Stop worrying. I promise, it’s fine.”
I turn to my mom, and she shrugs. “If he insists.”
“I insist,” he affirms.
My mom walks around the island and gives Micah a hug. “Thank you.”
Micah and I excuse ourselves to spend a little time alone before he has to drive back to Miami. He slips off his tie, and we crawl on top of the bed. With my head on his shoulder, I nuzzle in and kiss his neck.
“Are you okay?”
“I should be asking you that,” he responds. “I don’t like seeing you cry. I never have.”
“Today was a hard day.”
We speak no more about the funeral, Kason, or my mom. We simply spend the next hour in each other’s arms, enjoying this rare moment of peace. By the time he has to leave, my heart feels more settled than it did earlier. He grabs his bags, and I walk him out to his car. With a long kiss, he holds me close.
“Hurry back, okay?”
“Ten days,” he says before dropping his lips to mine one last time. “I’ll call you when I get back to the condo.”
“I love you.”
“Nowhere near as much as I love you, Guppy.” He then gets into the car. “I’m going to find us a kickass home, babe.”
“I can’t wait.”
And with that, I watch him drive away.