Terrible Things

                “Daddy, will you tell me about Mommy?” The words pierce my heart. They cut deeper than any blade. I try to control my breathing, to show Ben that I’m fine, that I’m calm. He’s only eight, so I don’t have to try that hard. But damn, it’s hard. It’s been eight years. When I think of the number, it seems like a long time. But it feels like yesterday.

                I beckon to Ben, and he walks over, tightly clutching his teddy bear. He climbs on my lap. I take a deep breath. He’s already asked once before, but the first time, he was too young to understand. Maybe even now, he’s still too young. But he has a right to know. I can’t always lie to him about why I weep on November 14th. Why, every week, we pick flowers and take a field trip to that creepy place with the gate and the funny-shaped rocks with names. Why, whenever we pass that one bench in the park, I always hang my head and hurry away. Why I can never see the fireworks on the fourth of July. Why I can never go back to St. Louis. Why I hate the date July 24th.

                I wrap my arms around Ben and hold him tight, inhaling his scent. It used to crush me, how similar their scents were. But now, it just reminds me how much she loved him. His big, bright eyes, the same blue/gray shade as hers, used to hurt, too. Maybe they still do, a little. Maybe I’m just numb.

                “Alright, Ben. I’ll tell you the story of Mommy and Daddy. Now, son, I’m only telling you this because life can do terrible things.”

                Benny nods and yawns. I smile and start rocking in the chair, knowing that he’ll be asleep by the end of my story. But I should tell it anyway. For me as much as him.

                “We met about ten years ago. About two years before you were born,” I say, quickly getting lost in the memory. Her smiling face surfaces and I’m not sure what to feel. “We were still attending college. It was my last year, but she still had a little ways to go. Your mommy wanted to be a doctor. She wanted to help people when they were sick or hurt. That’s why we ended up meeting. I wanted to be a doctor, too.

                “I remember how she looked that night. I’d never seen anyone quite so beautiful.” I can’t help but smile at the memory. “We were at a party. She was with her friends and I was with mine, but, in secret, our friends had plotted to get us together. So, when I went to get more pizza, they shoved her in there, too. I thought she was beautiful. So I tried talking to her. Now, back then, I was pretty cocky.”

                “Daddy?”

                “Hmm?”

                “What does cocky mean?”

                “It means that I thought I was amazing, but I really wasn’t.”

                “Well, I think you’re amazing.” I smile and cuddle Benny closer.

                “So, I was cocky. Your mommy, she knew that being cocky was a bad thing, and she didn’t fall for any of my tricks. She said I was just as stupid as the rest of the fraternity.”

                “Mommy doesn’t sound very nice.”

                “Oh, she was. I was not worth being nice to.”

                “Well then, Dillon Young isn’t worth being nice to. He’s cocky.” I smile again at my clever boy throwing my words back at me to defend a fight that he had had with a classmate the other day.

                “That doesn’t mean that you can fight with him or call him names. Now shhh.” Benny huffs but doesn’t say anything. I continue, “I was affronted and told her that I was neither in a fraternity nor was I stupid. I was studying to become a doctor. And that was when she loosened up a little, because she told me that she wanted to be a doctor, too. We talked about that for the rest of the party, until everyone else had gone home.