“You too,” I said, walking around the kitchen island where she was chopping lettuce for a salad and placing it into a bowl. Salad, lasagna, garlic bread, pecan pie. Every single time. I don’t know how many times I wanted to tell Iris that Jamie had lots of favorite foods. He was more than just lasagna, but I never did. I never said anything to Iris about Jamie, other than what she wanted to hear, because I knew she was barely holding on as it was. He was the youngest of three. Her baby.
As terrible as my loss was, I couldn’t imagine what she went through or what she was still going through. No parent should ever have to bury her child.
“Derek isn’t going to make it today,” she said. Derek was Jamie’s oldest brother. “He’s busy with work. Some big case coming up and he doesn’t have time to make the drive,” she explained. Derek was an attorney who lived in St. Louis. “Can you believe that he couldn’t spare one afternoon for his mother?” she said, coating the aggravation in her tone with a laugh.
“I’m sure he’d be here if he could,” I replied, but I knew the truth. Derek didn’t want to come back for the monthly mourning session. We kept in touch—the occasional email or text. It wasn’t that Derek didn’t love and miss his brother, it was that he had a hard time reliving all of the emotions that came along with losing him. We all did.
“I miss him, G,” he’d told me the last time I’d seen him. “I really do, but this,” he said, referring to the Sunday dinners, “this is too much. He wouldn’t want us all sitting around crying over him and it’s really hard not to when we have to watch my mom fall apart over and over again.”
“I think she needs this,” I told him. “I feel like she doesn’t know what else to do.”
“I know,” he’d replied. “There has to be a better way, though. I’m worried she actually thinks he’s going to walk through the door one day. Like he’s going to show up with the goofy grin of his and say ‘did you miss me?’” I’d thought the same thing about Iris’ expectations. I’d suggested to her that she visit the counselor I’d seen after he’d died, but she shut me down so fast that I’d never brought it up again.
“I don’t need anyone to tell me how to grieve my child,” she’d said flatly. She might not think so, but it had helped me a lot. Standing in the kitchen today and watching her repeat the same motions that she always did, I was starting to worry that maybe she needed help more than any of us.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked, trying not to think about the past anymore. I spent so much time there that it was a hard habit to break. Clearly, by the way things had been going with Brett.
“I think I’ve got it all covered,” she smiled. “Did you say hello to Jim? He’s out back.”
“I think I will,” I said, walking over to the backdoor and looking out. Jim, Jamie’s dad, was sitting on the patio recliner thumbing through a hardback copy of a book. He was a hardback book kind of guy. Jim Shaw was the Halstead High School history teacher. He had been as long as I’d known him. “Afternoon, Jim,” I said when I walked out on to the back patio. He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Jamie looked a lot like his dad. Seeing Jim was kind of like having my own looking glass into the future of what could have been.
“Georgia,” he said, tipping his head the way he always did. “Sweet Georgia.”
“Never gets old,” I said with a grin. He was just as charming as ever. It took me almost a year after graduation to stop calling him Mr. Shaw, a habit from four years of history classes, and just go with Jim, which is what he’d insisted I call him. I took a seat on the chair next to him. “What are you reading?”
“The Outsiders,” he said, showing me the spine of the book. “Never gets old.”
“One of my favorites.” Even though Jim was a history teacher, he had a deep love for classic literature, and I just liked to read. Any and everything. That is, when I had time, before I was buried in medical texts and patient charts. We’d formed a bond over books that used to drive Jamie mad. He’d poke fun at our back and forths and tease us about being book nerds. I think deep down he really did love how close I was to his father.
“According to Iris, it sounds like you might have found your very own outsider,” he said grinning and looking over the top of his reading glasses. “Said she saw you with some tattooed boy from out of town. Her words. Not mine,” he chuckled. Comparing Brett to one of the Outsiders was fitting. My own combination of Soda and Two-Bit. Handsome and funny. Jim would like his sharp wit, Iris wouldn’t like him no matter what.
“I’m sorry that she had to...” I shook my head. It was what it looked like. Brett and I had been in that grocery store as a couple. “I wish she hadn’t seen us together. It wasn’t how I planned for her to find out I was seeing someone.”
“Don’t be sorry, Georgia,” he said. “Who you’re in a grocery store with is none of my wife’s concern. I’m sorry if she made things uncomfortable for you.”
“She didn’t make things uncomfortable,” I assured him, but I knew he could tell I was lying. “Maybe a little.”
“If years of teaching have taught me anything, it’s to not judge anyone based on their appearance. If the tattooed boy is good enough for you, he’s good enough for me.” He winked. “I think it’s fantastic that you’re seeing someone. I think it’s time for all of us to start moving forward,” he said.
“You do?”
“I do.”
“I’m really trying,” I confessed. “I feel like I’m ready. You’d really like him,” I added.
“What good is life if you have nothing to look forward to?” he asked. He was always good at being philosophical when the time called for it. “You have the possibility of love. Iris and I have the joy of watching Derek and Paul grow. I’m not sure, but I feel like grandkids are in our future.”
“That would be wonderful.” I knew that Paul was newly married and Derek was probably well on his way. They were moving forward. They were living. I hoped that they could help fill some void in their mother’s life with their own. I know, because she brought it up often, that she believed Jamie and I would be married by now and either with or expecting our own child. She was probably right. We probably would have been on that exact path, but the fact of the matter was, that road was closed. The sooner she accepted it, the better off we all would be. As for me, I wanted to share my life with someone. I wanted a family and the whole looking forward to the future thing Jim was talking about.
“I think that this might be the last Sunday dinner,” he told me. “I’ve been thinking of taking Iris on a trip or two. I’m close to retirement and I think it would do her some good to get out and see the world. To see that it didn’t stop turning just because we lost Jamie, you know?”
I nodded. I had a feeling that his words were somewhat directed at me. Jim had always stayed so level headed when it came to processing his feelings over losing his son. At first I thought it was because he was a man and men seem to deal with their emotions differently than women, but the more I talked to Jim, the more I realized he did truly miss Jamie. He was just in a different stage of grieving than his wife was. He had accepted the change. He had accepted that Jamie had chosen his path in life and even though it hadn’t ended the way we’d all hoped it would, it was his choice. He had made peace with the loss. He was in the stage I was trying so hard to get to.
“I think getting out and seeing the world sounds like a fantastic idea.”
* * *
The dinner seemed to last longer than usual. I think maybe Iris knew it was going to be the last. She’d mentioned something over pecan pie and coffee about taking a trip and Jim had given me a silent smile. By the time I was home, it was almost dark outside. My mental and physical states were both exhausted.