I didn't catch it all, but I caught enough to know that their hushed words weren't truly heartfelt, but merely more gossip for them to banter about. Was there something wrong with me? Had the accident ruined me? Had I always been a cold child? Had they somehow managed to miss my oddness until now, when it was so blatantly obvious?
I’d slipped out of the house, eager to escape the oppressive heat of the home and their phony concern. There was a large, beautiful garden to the right of the house that my mom had been forced to sell the following year. The garden had been my mother’s pride and joy, filled with flowers, strange plants, and the enticing scent of roses and lavender. In the far back corner there had been a wooden bench tucked beneath the drooping boughs of a giant willow. It was that bench that I made my way to.
I sat there for hours, my hands folded before me as I watched bees buzzing lazily about, and butterflies flitting from here to there. I tried not to think about anything, tried not to break under the weight of my mourning as it threatened to consume me. I don’t know how long I sat there before I felt the presence of someone else. I lifted my head, blinking against the sun that had drifted lower in the sky. It took a few seconds to make out the young boy that had wandered into the garden; astonishment filled me as I recognized Cade.
Up until a couple of years ago Cade had been good friends with Aiden and I had always liked him. Unlike Aiden’s other friends he had never tried to push me away, never called me names, and had not found me annoying, or tried to ditch me. He’d always invited me to play with them, always been kind and gentle. He'd exhibited endless patience with me, even when he’d taught me how to fish and I had insisted on throwing them all back. Aiden had vehemently protested it. Cade had simply done as I’d asked without a word of complaint and an understanding smile that had melted my young heart.
Then, when I was seven and Cade was eight, his parent’s were killed in a home robbery gone wrong. Cade had been fortunate enough to be at a friend’s house when the murders occurred. He was placed into foster care after, and though he still lived in our town he didn't live near us anymore. His friendship with Aiden ended abruptly after, and he’d stopped coming to our house nearly every day. He became distant and unfriendly toward us as he took to moving callously, and methodically, through his life. At his parent’s funeral the caring friend I’d known, and loved, had ignored me when I tried to convey my sympathy over his awful loss. I’d tried to speak to him twice after that, but he’d walked right past me. Rejected and confused, I had given up trying to reach out to him.
And then, two years later, Cade with two parents gone and me with one, he was suddenly standing before me again. He was taller than the last time he’d been at my house, lankier, and already becoming one of the most handsome and sought after boys in school. Yet, that was not the person standing before me in the garden. This person was different. This person wasn't just a mere boy, not anymore. For the first time I understood that though Cade still looked like a boy, he had already stopped being one. He had, in fact, become a man two years ago when his parents had been so cruelly ripped away from him. Fate had seen fit to spare him, but longing and sorrow remained in his surprisingly wise eyes.
For the first time I understood why Cade didn't smile and laugh and talk and play with us anymore. I understood that though I may do those things again someday, I would never do them in the same way that I had done them just four days ago. For the first time, I understood that though Abby and Aiden had also lost a parent, they didn't share what Cade and I did. They didn't have to live with the burden of having been spared, when they should have died.
My siblings would never wish that they had been home too, so maybe they could have done something to stop it like Cade did. They would never wish that they had been able to warn our dad about the deer sooner, before it had been too late to stop the car. They would never feel guilt over being the ones to survive, when they shouldn’t have. When we shouldn’t have.
Cade sat beside me in the fading light of what had been a beautiful early summer day. We didn't speak as an hour, and then two, slipped by. The sunset lit up the sky with a myriad of beautiful colors that should have been uplifting, but somehow only made me sadder. My father would never see such a beautiful sunset again. I shouldn't be here to see it, but I was.
Seeming to sense my growing distress, Cade’s fingers slid into mine. His strong, young hand clasped upon mine. Something began to ease inside of me. I felt at home, I didn't feel so ashamed and devastated with him beside me, holding me. For the first time in days I didn't feel guilty, I wasn't consumed by self-hatred. I didn't close my eyes and see the broken body of my father. The nightmares that caused me to wake, screaming soundlessly every night, didn't even seem so bad right now. With him holding my hand I didn't feel like I was going to fall apart, shattering like a dropped piece of glass if I moved the wrong way. For the first time, I almost felt a small measure of peace again.
“It’s ok to cry.” His voice was soft as the sun slipped over the horizon.
And for the first and last time, I did. I didn't sob loudly, didn't fall completely apart. Did not scream and rail against the heavens, or fate, as I had worried every second of the past few days I would. Instead I wept soundlessly as all the anguish and shame poured steadily from me. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me against his side. Cradling my head, he didn't tell me to stop, didn't tell me that it would all be alright, didn't offer me the same false words that everyone else had over the past few days. He simply held and comforted me in a way that I had never been held, or comforted, before.
It was nightfall before my tears finally subsided and I lay spent against him. I could feel the rigid press of his ribs against my cheek; hear the solid beat of his heart. The crickets were out, an owl hooted somewhere in the distance, and though it was growing cooler neither of us moved. I needed him and his understanding. I had to know that I wasn't as hated as I felt. In those moments, I needed him more than I had ever needed anything in my life. I was not going to be the first one to pull away.
It was another hour before my front door opened and light spilled across the large front porch. People had been steadily leaving all day, but no one had noticed us under the shelter of the willow tree. There were still a few cars in the drive, but I knew that it wasn't one of their owners stepping outside now.
“Bethany! Bethy are you out here!?” I longed to stay hidden away and remain secure in Cade’s arms all night. The last thing I felt like doing was returning to that house, with all of its loving memories, and reminders of things lost. With all of the enclosed spaces that seemed menacing to me after the car accident. “Bethany where are you!?”