Saving Rain

by Kelsey Kingsley

And that was when I realized that it didn’t always matter what tree the apple fell from. Sometimes, it was just rotten.

“I know what to do with pain, Ray,” I said, keeping my tone barely above a whisper. “Give yours to me. Let me carry it, so you don’t have to anymore.”

I watched you boys run upstairs to your room, and I said to your grandmother, 'Do you ever wonder what's going to happen to him?' And I … I don't know why I said it. It was probably an awful thing to say, and I probably should've kept it to myself, but I always worried about you, and I know your grandparents did too. “Anyway, your grandmother said, 'As long as I'm around, he'll have the best damn life I can give him, and I just have to hope that'll be enough to carry him through when I'm gone.' And I was just thinking about that—about how she'd be happy to see you now, to know that whatever she and your grandfather had done was truly enough.”