The Best of Friends

by Lucinda Berry

Every fear I’ve had over the years—each terrorizing thought, every agonizing image of something awful happening to one of my kids—doesn’t even touch the utter devastation in my being. And life will go on without him. That’s the part I hate the most. It can’t. It must stop. Waves of grief strip all concept of time as I disappear into their swirling abyss. And then I’m returned.

How did none of us notice anything strange? There had to be something.”

This will break his heart. How do you shatter someone’s heart when it’s already in pieces?

She doesn’t know a mom who existed before the fear, but I used to be strong.

I don’t want the cars to drive or the buses to come, because every minute feels like I’m leaving Sawyer behind and living the life he was supposed to have.

They write us off as a pair of grief-stricken mothers. It’s easy to do, but just because I’m mourning doesn’t mean I’ve lost the ability to reason.

Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought.

I size her up like she’s been doing to me, each trying to figure out where the other stands like neither of us can be trusted. I have no reason not to trust her. Well, except for that one time. There was that one time, but we don’t talk about that. Ever. Not even the night it happened. Anyway, she has no reason not to trust me. I’m not a dishonest person.

Again, it’s Jacob. Always Jacob.

The same lifeless expression. His eyes are closed like he’s in a deep sleep. I stumble backward. I just hit my son. My back hits the bathroom door, and I slide down it until I reach the floor. I bite my cheek to keep from crying, but the sobs won’t be ignored. They hit me like a violent ocean wave, and I tumble into them.

“I’m your best friend. I’m always here for you.” I plant a kiss on her cheek. “No matter what.” Even if Jacob killed Sawyer, because he’s stuck in purgatory, which seems like a fitting punishment for gutting me and destroying my family.

Once again, I’m brought back to his infancy. The circle of life, except this circle is broken and moving backward. He’s supposed to watch me crawl back into infancy, not the other way around.

I can’t stomach the idea of not holding his hand when he takes his final step.

My house was never like the home where I’d grown up in so many different ways, no matter how hard I tried to re-create it. It didn’t matter how beautiful I made it or how clean I kept it; the love that cocoons me in safety here never filled our home in the same way. Bryan’s darkness grew larger until it eventually overtook the light. Maybe Sawyer died in our house because it was already filled with death.

Why us? Is it because our lives were too perfect?

This can’t be happening. It’s not real. His eyes are open. Sutton slips her hand into mine. “See, Mommy, I told you,” she says softly. “Wyatt!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Get out of your room! Your brother isn’t dying!”

The important thing is that Jacob’s alive. He’s not just alive—he’s awake.

I thought if Jacob opened his eyes, I’d see my son staring back at me. But I can’t see him in there. He’s nowhere to be found.

I see the pink blur of my hand as it slaps his face. Those aren’t my hands. They can’t be. And then I watch as they do it another time, stunned as they connect. They’re attached to my body, but a force outside my control has taken them over. I can’t believe what they’ve done. How could they do that? Moonlight floods through the bay window and lands on my wedding ring. The diamonds wink at me mockingly like they know my secret. I grip the bed rails and continue circling his bed as I stifle the urge to scream.

I mean, come on—my son is gone, and her son is probably the one who killed him.

She doesn’t want him remembered as a murderer any more than I want Sawyer remembered as a dumb jock who got drunk and made a stupid mistake, which is how he’ll be remembered if I don’t prove otherwise.

Jacob is head over heels in love with Sawyer and doesn’t care who finds out.

Jacob’s last text to Sawyer was sent the day before the accident. My blood chills as I read his words: I wanted to kill you when I saw you flirting with those girls at lunch.

“Just admit it so that we can start to move forward—your son killed mine.”

“Stop it!” Caleb’s voice cuts through the room. He stands in the entryway to the living room. Hands at his sides. His fists clenched. “Just stop it. Please.”

“I did it.” His voice is wobbly, unsure. “I killed Sawyer.”

For so long, I’ve waited for him to speak, but now all I want is for him to be quiet. I’m not sure I can handle hearing what drove him to shoot his best friend, no matter how badly I want answers.

“It’s okay,” I say, but it isn’t. My response happens automatically, and he needs to continue. None of this is okay.

“I don’t remember getting the gun. I remember being furious and running upstairs. I was just so angry. The next thing I know, I’m downstairs with the gun. Sawyer was still going off. He was screaming at Jacob, and Jacob was crying. It was like the saddest cry ever. And Sawyer wouldn’t leave him alone. He was on him. I screamed at him to stop. He wouldn’t stop. He just wouldn’t stop.”

There’s no warmth left. His wide-open eyes stare into my aching heart without connecting. There’s a strange odor that’s never been there before. He’s gone from body to ghost.

“Do you want to go?” I ask, and in the next instant, it hits me that he’s already gone. For the first time, my mind grasps what it’s fought so hard to deny—he’s not in there.

I brush my other hand against his cheek. I’ve walked him through every important milestone since he was born, from teaching him how to tie his shoes to driving a car and filling out college applications. But I don’t know if I can do this. I’m not strong enough. My eyes rise to meet his in the photo; they sear into my soul. What if he’s hanging on for me? “You don’t have to stay any longer.” Grief thickens the sound of my voice. “I’m going to be okay,” I assure him even though I don’t know how I’ll live life without him. “I love you so much, Jacob.” Deep sobs overtake me, and it takes time for them to settle before I can speak again. I watch his chest as he struggles to breathe. I grab Sawyer’s blanket from the couch and lay it next to Jacob’s face so he can feel the softness and smell whatever scent of security might still be there. “You can go now.” I rub the blanket softly against his cheek. “You don’t have to be afraid. Sawyer is waiting for you. Go to him.”

Time stands still as I watch his chest rise and fall. I don’t move from his bedside until the sun begins peeking through the curtains, casting its first rays of light into our living room. His body releases a long exhale, and I wait for the next inhale, but this time it doesn’t come. His chest no longer moves. A calm fills the room. I imagine him walking toward the light and Sawyer waving at him and telling him to hurry up. I reach down and close his eyes.

It’s been weeks since I logged in, but I checked my messages yesterday, and there was one in my in-box waiting for me. My heart leaped when I saw it was from him.