But nothing could. Not now. Maybe not ever.
He tried to speak. Mouth opened. A rush of hot air escaped; nothing more. He started to turn back away from the window and towards the room. Stopped himself. Sighed and faced the window once more.
Rain drops ran down the pane and paused for a moment. Then ran down again. He watched them in silence. I wondered what he could see past the streaks. An empty backyard. Wet and cold but still green. Newly fallen leaves started to make spots of yellow and brown on the green grass. Toys left to fend for themselves. Life turning. Green. . .but browning. Fall coming. Life changing. . .
. . .like his. He understood now. Things would be different.
He released himself from his own embrace and moved his hand to the back of his neck. Like you might rub the tension out of your neck after a long, hard day. . .he did the same. Thinking? Planning? He rubbed hard. His neck, red under the pressure. Scratched his head. Put both arms down and turned slowly from the window. . .
"It's. . .just. . .that. . ."
I leapt from my seat across the room and landed at his feet. I knelt. . .grabbed his waist, trying to see his face . . .
"Yes? Please. . .you can talk to me."
His eyes turned glassy. A ridge of tears swelled like a wall that threatened to break. He sharply pulled back from my embrace and back to the window. The rain continued to fall. He swallowed hard. Put both hands on the sill and leaned in.
His hands are so tiny, I thought. And dirty.
Why are they always so dirty?
I was still kneeling on the floor, behind him. Broken. Defeated. I felt the sting of my own tears starting to work into my eyes. I sat back. Regained my composure. Shut my eyes for a moment to stop the tears from welling up. It worked. For now. I breathed deeply and started over.
"You can talk to me. It's okay."
As if in slow motion, he turned to me, opened his mouth wide and enraged he yelled,
"It's not okay. It's just. . .not. . .okay!"
His two dirty hands made tiny tight fists. He pointed them down to the ground. Planted both feet firmly in place. His body was positioned to make a stand. To show me he meant business. This was serious. More serious then I had ever imagined.
He took a deep breath to yell again and stopped flat. He turned away but turned right back. Visibly at war with himself. Thoughts rushed through his mind faster than his mouth could keep up. His face writhed with the struggle. Mouth opened. Closed. Fists pumped up, down. Feet shifted and his body positioned to flee and then faced me again to fight.
I watched with equal parts horror and desperation. I was so guilty. Nothing I could say could take away his pain. No way I could make this better. Wished I could be one of those rain drops and melt away into the dark green world outside.
But I was here. He was here. And this had to be settled.
His frustration mounted and he ran to his room, jumped high, flung his body on the bed and covered his head with a pillow. I had to end this. For him. For all of us. It was time to dig deep. Stood at his doorway for what felt like an eternity while I weighed my options.
Could I live with the decision I was about to make? What was the point of it all if I was just going to fold the first time things got rough? Or was this sacrifice? The kind of thing you read about in history. The stuff heroes are made of. Too late to think about it. Time to act.
It was as if I floated above myself, watching the scene unfold from 10 feet in the air. I approached his bed, slowly. . .cautiously. Stepped over Imaginext castles and Matchbox cars.
Did he put those there to slow me?
I sat on the edge of the bed, lowered myself so that my weight could hardly be felt. He knew I was there. The pillow moved and an ear positioned itself carefully on the edge.
I leaned over his body and whispered . . .
". . .how about a Lunchable? The kind with the ham and cheese and a CapriSun?"
He hopped up and jumped off his bed as if nothing had happened. Patted me on the back as he ran by me and yelled behind him, "Oh, great! Thanks mom!"
Within seconds he was in his sister's room, playing happily.
I sat by myself on the bed for a minute and let out a long, slow breath. It was over.
I emerged from the room battled and broken, but okay. I won't be so foolish again, I promised myself.
That would be the last time I forgot to sign him up for hot dog day at school, by God.
The very. . .last. . time.
