A Nice Guy

40

Suddenly I'm a teenager again.

I'm forced to listen to a sound that shatters the air, a raw, primal expression of desolation. It's not a sob, but a keening wail that scrapes against the soul. The kind of cry that wrenches not just tears, but tears at the very core of your hope.

She'd cry almost everyday; my mom, terrified of her cancer, overwhelmed with the bills it caused and the way it made her feel like she was dying. She was. She knew she was. So she cried—it was fucking heartbreaking to hear from my bedroom. Sometimes when I had friends over, they'd snicker in bewilderment at the noise, but they didn't understand, how could they.

I'd leave them in my room, cautiously creeping to her bedroom where she laid face down, crying into a pillow. The muffled sounds spoke volumes. Sobbing tremors wracked her body, each exhale a choked gasp. Her face was buried deep in the fabric, tears soaking silently into the fibers.

I'd walk over, attempting to comfort her as much as I could. I'd realized that words were inadequate, so I'd rest my head on her shoulder until she'd stop crying. I'd stay until she fell asleep; the tightness around her eyes softening, and her expression taking on a semblance of peace.

I blink away the memories of my now deceased mom, forcing myself back to reality. I enter Hazel's room, her cries softening when she sees me. She quickly wipes away her tears, as if I'm not allowed to see them. She looks away from me, avoiding my eyes.

I take a step closer to her, refraining from questioning her, knowing it's pointless. Like the many times I'd comforted my mother, I walk over to Hazel, pulling her into a soft embrace.

Her arms stay at her sides, refusing to return the embrace. She's insistent on staring at the bench on the other side of the room. I hold her tightly, the familiarity of the situation overwhelming me with fear and sadness. I feel tears sting at my eyes and grind the insides of my cheeks between my teeth, attempting to distract myself from the despondent feeling growing in my chest with the intense pain.

I feel her shift in the bed as she looks at me, sobbing yet again. I let her cry into my shoulder, her arms warily wrapping around my body as she does. I hear her attempt to say something, but her voice is shallow and inaudible. I swallow the lump in my throat. "What's wrong?" I murmur.

I picture myself in the same position, asking my mom the same question. She always scoffed in response. "I've got fucking cancer, Alex. That's what's wrong." She'd always reply the same way, sarcasm laced into her words along with what I had assumed to be hatred. I'd suspected that she'd grown to loathe me.

Because of me, she couldn't live her life to the fullest before it inevitably ended. She couldn't blow her life savings on a vacation all on her own, she had to stay home and take care of her teenage son; too young to leave behind, too much of a headache to bring with her.

I exhale into Hazel's hair, letting the gut wrenching memory fade away, attempting to ground myself by squeezing her harder. She sniffles, attempting to compose herself before repeating what she had said.

"Derrick's been cheating on me for two years." Her words are hallow, lifeless—yet music to my ears.

I look around the room, my heart beginning to race in my chest. I let myself smile, knowing she can't see me. This is what I needed. I place my hand on her head, my fingers getting lost in her matted curls. If she was heartbroken before, she's fucking shattered now, and I'll be here to pick up the pieces for her.

I gently pull away from her, just enough to view her face in front of me. I cup her face in my hands, running my thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away the salty tears that cover them. "I'm sorry, Hazel." I watch as her lip quivers in response. Fuck. I pull her back into my arms, kissing her head over and over again.

It's all just too easy. Why is it all falling into place exactly the way I'd anticipated? I stifle a laugh, masking it as a cough. "He never deserved you," I tell her. "I knew that since the day I met you."

She sniffles again, attempting to tame herself. "Really?" She asks.

I nod my head. It's true. I always knew she deserved someone better than Derrick. Yeah, he gave her the life she deserved, but anyone can do that. What he couldn't do, though, was treat her correctly. That's something I can do, that I'll now be able to do.

I'll take his place—treat her how she deserves to be treated. She'll fall hopelessly in love with me, and we'll be happy. Happier than they ever were.