Evening
We took you back home to my house that night. You weren't talking, so I just held your hand tightly all the way home.
“It'll be better if he's staying with us for a couple of days,” Luce finally said into the oppressive silence of the car.
“Is that okay?” I asked her hopefully because I would like that. Even then I'd learned to worry about you all the time, Sam, it's just something I couldn't stop from growing. As we got older, the concern got all tangled up with desire and frustration. You wouldn't let me take care of you. I'd ask myself over and over, why wouldn't you? Why wouldn't you just talk to me and let me take care of it for you? Why wouldn't you just get over your stupid pride?
“Sam, would you like to stay at our place for a while?” Luce asked softly, glancing at the rearview mirror with her sad, sad eyes. “We'd love to have a company. The house gets too quiet sometimes.”
You didn't say anything. You hadn't said anything since before I'd held you.
“It's going to be like sleepover,” I told you with a smile. “I'd always wanted to have friends for sleepover. Come on, Sam.”
You smiled back at me then. It was small and shaky, but a smile nevertheless. Your nod almost made me sob, but I kept it in. I kept all of it in for you, Sam, always.
“I'll tell your father.” I could hear an undercurrent of anger vibrating within her words, but I didn't ask. Somehow, with your hand in mine, I just couldn't.
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Wearing My Smile | ✔
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