Promise Me Not

by Meagan Brandy

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m scared, little man,” he whispers. “Your mama’s avoiding me, and I have no idea what to do about it.” He goes quiet for a moment, and I struggle to breathe, staring at my son’s hand as it opens, his tiny fingers wrapping around Mason’s thumb. Mason’s lips spread into a wide grin, a soft, quiet chuckle slipping free. “This your way of telling me you won’t let me go?” A knot forms in my throat, and I lock my hand around my neck. Suddenly, Mason’s face falls, and he bends, his forehead now resting on the edge of the crib. “Please don’t let me go.”

He’s right. I am avoiding him, and he did come here three times this summer. According to the messages I left on read, the only reason he came…was for me. My eyes fall to Deaton, who plays happily in the warm water, and I know that’s not right. Mason didn’t come home for me. He came for us.

“Happy Fourth of July, Deaton,” I whisper into the night, unsure if I’m speaking to him or to the boy who didn’t get to live to today.

“Hey, Mason!” Deaton calls not five seconds after we break from the others. We glance back, and Deaton’s eyes lock with mine. “You got my family in your hands.”

He deserves to be missed, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure he’s never forgotten. My son will know his father even if he never gets to know his father.

It’s been one full year without you, and it still feels like yesterday.

“You called…him?” He speaks the words so low, I almost miss them. With a slight shake of his head, he stumbles back a step. “Mase.” He looks away. “Mason.” He shuffles farther away, and acid bubbles burst in my gut. When his cleats meet the sand, he starts to run. I jerk forward, a barbed wire wrapping around and puncturing my lungs. Panic sets in, and I launch myself toward the stairs “Mason!” I scream. But he doesn’t answer. He’s gone now, too. I fall to my ass and cry until I pass out. Just like I did on this very same night exactly one year ago today.

I feel it in my bones, in my heart. His absence. His sweet soul and whispered words. His promise. He promised he’d be back.

Deaton made me a lot of promises before he left. I refuse to accept, let alone make, any more. My boyfriend is dead.

The boy who died and the man who’s still here…

“I’m dead serious. I can’t compete with a ghost, so I won’t,” I promise. “He can keep your heart for all eternity. Just let me hold you for all of mine.”

Curling in a ball, I lie before his headstone, one hand pressed to the day he left me and the other clutching the photo of the little guy he gave me before he went. The tears don’t stop, the guilt doesn’t lessen, but the pain…it slowly fades. We’re together, even if we’re worlds apart.

Together, the three of us pile around the small space dedicated to Deaton Vermont, the boy who left us too soon but blessed our lives before his was taken.

“Deaton is his father.” My eyes cloud with tears. “But you’re the only dad he’s ever known.” Mason reaches out, tethering our hands together. “We’ll make sure he knows him, too.”