“I'm not as sure of that as you are,” Johnny said, sounding very grown up. “You'd better go to the doctor tomorrow.”
“I will if it still bothers me,” she promised.
They spent a lazy afternoon, eating and watching TV, and that night, she cooked the traditional ham that she always made for them at Christmas. Her appetite wasn't great, and she was distracted as she served the dinner. But all afternoon, she had been haunted by the realization that the miracles they'd experienced and the blessings they'd shared had been too numerous. There was nothing left for Johnny to do now. Becky had her scholarship and a new boyfriend who was good to her. Pam had met a wonderful man, who loved her, and her kids, and they were getting married. Charlotte and Jim were closer than anyone could ever have dreamed of. He had stopped drinking. Bobby had started talking. And she had had nearly three months with the son she loved and who had been taken from her, with no warning, all too quickly. They had each had priceless gifts that would change the course of their lives forever. There was nothing left to do. And the more she thought of it, the more she knew that Johnny would have to leave soon. And the prospect of it made her heart ache.
“You're leaving, aren't you?” she asked him when they were alone in the kitchen after dinner. Everything was put away, and it had been a long, comfortable day. Even Johnny's absence hadn't been as painful as usual, for Jim and Charlotte. They seemed to be adjusting to it, and Johnny had explained to Bobby, right from the beginning, that he would leave again one day. He was just there for a little visit.
“Probably, Mom,” Johnny said honestly. “We'll know when it's the right time. You will too. I told you, you'll be ready.” He sounded so certain of it, but she hadn't liked his answer.
“Then it's not the right time,” she said, sounding younger than he did, “because I'm not ready. This is going to hurt too much,” she said, as tears spilled onto her cheeks, and Johnny looked at her sadly.
“Don't cry, Mom. I won't be far away. You know that.”
“I want you here, just like you have been.”
“I know you do. So do I. We all do. But I can't do that. They won't let me. I have to go back.” His stay for the past several months had been the ultimate gift.
“That's mean of them,” she said, as he put his arms around her. “We need you … I need you … and Bobby and Dad, and Charlie.”
“I love you,” he said simply, and for an instant, she got a glimmer of what that meant. The words seemed enormous suddenly, like the feelings that went with them. Bigger than she'd ever imagined they could be. The words were like clouds that enveloped her, and cushioned all the pain she'd ever felt, or been afraid of, since the beginning of time.
“You look tired,” she said, looking up at him. “And you know I love you too.”
“Yes, I do, Mom. I always knew that.” She was relieved to hear it. They stood and hugged for a long moment, and then walked slowly out of the kitchen to find the others. Everyone was looking full and tired and sleepy. And a little while later, they all walked upstairs together, wished each other a Merry Christmas again, and went to their own rooms.
She and Jim went to bed early, and the kids were already asleep, as they lay there talking about what a nice Christmas it had been, despite the painful reality of Johnny's absence. And she felt a little guilty when Jim mentioned it, because only she and Bobby knew that Johnny had been there with them.
“You know, I feel good about him. As though he's in a happy place. I don't know why, but I just feel that,” Jim said, as they lay in the dark, with his arm around her.
“So do I,” she said with a sigh, and then they just lay side by side and held each other. And a little while later, Jim fell asleep, but Alice just couldn't. She was wide awake, no matter how tired she was, or how long the day had been. All she could think of tonight was Johnny. And long after midnight, she got up finally, and walked out into the hallway. She was going to go back downstairs and make herself a cup of warm milk to drink, to soothe her nerves and calm her stomach. And just as she came out of her room, she saw Johnny come out of Charlotte's bedroom. He had been with her for a long time, and held her hand as she fell asleep, and she was smiling now, dreaming of him.
He had been in Bobby's room with him before that, and they'd had a long talk, about what it meant to go on, and take the people you love with you in your heart.
“You're going away again, aren't you?” Bobby had asked him, but he hadn't looked worried about it. It was as though he understood, even though he was a child.
“Yes, I am.” Johnny was always honest with him.
“Will you come back again?” Bobby's eyes were wide with wonder.
“Maybe, but I don't think so.”
“Thank you for helping me talk again,” Bobby said, and they held each other for a long time. Bobby would always remember his brother, and in many ways, he was a lot like him.
Johnny was telling his mother about it, as they started down the stairs, and then he stopped and went to his room, and looked around for a minute. He was going to miss all of them, he knew, as much as they missed him. And he reminded his mother to give Bobby his varsity jacket when he was big enough to wear it. And Charlotte could borrow it in the meantime. Tears sprang to her eyes the minute he said it. It was time for good-byes again. And she had never wanted to say good-bye to him the first time, she had refused to. Maybe that was why he had come back to them, because she had refused to let him go. Or maybe he had come back to attend to unfinished business. But he had finished all of it. All the loose ends were tied up, so neatly and so well, like everything he had done in life. In three months, he had done so much for so many people. Alice couldn't help thinking how blessed they had all been.
Johnny watched her warm the milk, and then sat down with her, while she drank it. And when she finished it, she looked up at him. She knew now why she hadn't been able to sleep that night. He was going. She couldn't even bring herself to say the words to him. The idea of it was too painful, but he shook his head as he looked at her.
“Don't do it that way, Mom. Let me go this time. I'll be here with you, always, even when you can't see me.”
“I'm going to miss talking to you. What am I going to do without you?” she asked, with tears in her eyes.
“You'll be busy, with Dad and the others.” He smiled at her and put his arms around her, and after a while they stood up, and she looked at him with everything she felt for him, and had since the day he was born.
“I love you, Johnny.”
“I love you too, Mom… more than you'll ever know … more than I ever told you.”
“You are such a good boy, and I'm so proud of you … I always will be.”
“I'm proud of you too.” And then he turned, as though he'd forgotten something, and he pulled a small rectangular box out of his pocket. He had wrapped it awkwardly, and he handed it to her. “This is for you and Dad. It's going to make you happy for a long, long time, all your lives, I hope.”
“What is it? Should I open it now?” She was curious about what was in it.
“No, do it later,” he said firmly, and she slipped it into the pocket of her bathrobe.
And then he walked slowly to the door, and she followed him. They stood there for a long time, looking out into the night, and hugging. He had his arms around her and held her tight, just as he had as a child. She could feel the warm milk she had drunk warm her. She felt peaceful and tired, and strangely comfortable, and he held her for a long time, and then kissed her cheek. She kissed him one last time, and he walked out into the night, as she watched him. She wanted to stop him, or run after him, but she knew she couldn't. He turned back once to smile at her, and she was smiling at him as tears poured from her eyes, but it was a different kind of sadness this time, mixed with longing and joy and gratitude for all he had been to her. She blinked for only an instant to clear the tears from her eyes, and he was gone, walking softly into the night, to a place where she could not follow.