The Weight of Love (3 page)

“
I’ll call you.” Jeremy waves with a big smile on his face.

“Okay.
Yeah. Great.” I nod. I don’t want to discourage him, but I don’t know that I want to encourage him either. This sucks. It wasn’t a good idea. I’m not ready.

Tom puts his
arm over his shoulders and the guys walk out together.

“So?”
Kyla leans toward me.

“I have no idea.
He tried to kiss me.” The whole thing feels overwhelming, but it shouldn’t. It was just an attempt at a small kiss and dinner. That should be no big deal. But it feels huge, like a
huge
deal. I’m not sure what to do with that.

“Tried?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Meaning you
stopped
him?”

“I just…” M
y emotions hit me hard. Heavy. This isn’t what I should be feeling. I should be feeling excitement. How much do I not even realize was taken from me with Matt’s death? My chin starts to quiver and I suck in a breath in an attempt to stop it.

“Hey.
It’s okay.” Kyla puts her tiny arms around me. “It’ll come.”

“I’m not so sure.”
I’m wiping tears as I step away from her. It’s not often that I cry anymore, not like the first few months where I only held it together while Bridger was awake.

“It will.”
She rubs my arm a few times. “I promise.”

“You can promise no such thing,” I tease.

“Whatever, Jaycee.” She starts toward the door. “I need to go catch up to that hubby of mine. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks, again.”
I wave as she dashes out the front door.

Fear runs through me that I’ll just be broken forever.

I tiptoe down the hall to check on Bridger. My hand slides carefully across his forehead. He’s fine. My chest relaxes, allowing my breathing to return to normal. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath. Now
I
need to do something about sleep.

I sit on the couch,
close my eyes, and imagine Matt sitting next to me. I haven’t done this in forever. It’s generally more torture than it’s worth for a few brief moments of relief. I lean my head against the back of the couch, but I can’t even pretend he’s here, not really. The house feels too empty. There’s no warmth from the seat next to me, no large shoulder to lean my head on. No hand to rest mine in. He’s just gone, and it still feels empty, which brings me back to my earlier fear that I’ll simply be broken forever.

I pull my knees up, slide the afghan off the back of the couch and lean into the corner. Maybe
I’ll just sleep out here again. Sometimes it’s easier to sleep on the couch rather than the bed we used to share. After two years, I shouldn’t still feel this way, but I’m too afraid to let it go. Letting it go will be letting the last bits of Matt go, and I don’t think I can do that to him. Not yet.

4

ELDER WORTHEN

18 months, 6 months to go

I normally have interesting conversations with people I meet while traveling from area to area, but I’m tired. As soon as I buckle into my seat on the plane, I close my eyes and lean against the outside wall. Another new companion. Another new area. Palmer this time. I’ve been all up Southeast Alaska since I got here. Everyone tells me I’ll love Palmer, but it’s colder there than it was in Sitka, and I froze in Sitka. So, I’m not sure how I feel about it. Guess it doesn’t much matter. The whole point is that I’ll go where I’m needed.

-
- -

“I’m Bishop Allen, this is Elder
Smitts, your companion while you’re here.” He reaches out a large hand, which I take.

“Is this
how things are normally done? Get picked up by the bishop curbside?” I smile.

“No, but I was in town and
Smitts’ companion had to catch a flight, so I was his companion for the day and it just seemed easier.” Bishop Allen and I almost look one another in the eye. He has a smooth voice, silvery grey hair, and a nice feeling about him. I like him immediately.

Smitts
looks like a high school student. We shake and he tries really hard, but the boy needs some muscle. He’s looking at me with the same wide-eyes that the greenies do, and he’s closer to home than I am. I’m sure to get questions from him. He shivers once in his thin jacket, and I don’t blame him. The snow is deep, even at the curb of the airport.

“Well, cl
imb on in, you can ride shotgun. Smitts has had it all day.”

“Great.” I step in the passenger’s seat. “There’s no legroom on a plane for a guy like me.”

“Tell me about it.” The Bishop laughs. “Pizza on our way out of town sound okay to you two?”

“Great,” w
e answer at the same time.

He starts through Anchorage
, and I see a lot more of the city than I did on my brief run through when I first arrived. I was only in Anchorage for a day before being flown to Southeast. I’m actually comforted by the lanes of traffic and stoplights, even though we’re driving on snow. It’s the first time I’ve missed home for real. The city, choices of where to eat, and lots and lots of people. It feels familiar.

“Palmer is pretty small, but Wasilla is next door and a bit bigger, not as big as Anchorage, though,” Elder
Smitts says.

“Alright.” But I can’t imagine anything as small as some of the places I’
ve been. Elfin Cove, Petersburg, even Juneau was small…

At least the cold here isn’t that damp cold that only comes with day after day of rain.
I relax into the seat and take it all in.

-  -
-

“This is nice.” I step inside our apartment.
It smells like fresh paint and new carpet. Everything is clean, new, and random shades of beige. It may be boring, but after the musty apartments built in the fifties that I’ve been living in, this is a welcome change.

“New building. It’s owned by one of the
church members around here. They give the church a huge discount for the missionaries. Helps them with taxes, helps us have a nice place to stay.”

“Cool.” I lug my trunk into the room. It’s clean, actually clean, not a frantic pick-up clean for my arrival. I’m thankful. I can’t stand a slob.

“I need to make a few phone calls before tomorrow.” He sits at the table and pulls out his book.

“I’ll unpack.” I stand up and stretch.

“We have zone conference in a few days so you’ll get to meet the other people serving in our area, and the calendar of stuff we’re signed up to do is up-to-date. We’ll go over our people when you’re ready.”

He really has it together. “Thanks.”
I’m relieved I won’t be babysitting this guy. I’ve done too much of that. Here, I’ll be able to get some actual work done.

5

J
AYCEE

I pull up to Matt’s parent’s house. It’s always mixed coming here. I feel welcome, for sure, but it’s still awkward. My heart still pounds. My hands still get sweaty, and that bit of dread at seeing glimpses of my past and what
should
have been my future spread out in front of me. Every time.

“
Kaycee! Bridger!” Donna opens the door to let us in.

“Hey.”
I try to find my polite smile as we step inside.

They live in one of those split entry houses and she’s very particular about no shoes in the house
. Coming in and getting shoes off in that small space is really difficult. Bridger squirms underneath and around my legs. He hates tight spaces.

“Bridger, ple
ase try to hold still for Mommy. I just need to get off your shoes.” I grasp around until I finally have off his tennis shoes.

“Bridger.”
Donna’s voice sounds stern. “It is your responsibility to help out your mother.”

Her voice is sharp and even though Bridger doesn’t
say anything to her I know it affects him. I feel his body tense.

“It’
s okay, sweetie,” I whisper in his ear. He dashes up the stairs to somewhere he feels like he can breathe.

“What are you going to do with that boy?”
Donna stands three stairs higher than I am with her hands on her hips.

“He just doesn’t process things in the same way that we do.
He doesn’t like tight spaces.” I’m slowly learning things about my son. The more I read, the more I understand him and his odd behaviors. But I’m only beginning to feel in control of his issues, and all the learning has done very little to ease the guilt.

She doesn’t move.
Instead she stands still, looking down on me, completely unconvinced.

I kick off my shoes
and set them next to Bridger’s, wishing I could force her to understand.

“Well, come on up.
Let’s see what he’s into.”

I hold in a sigh, wishing I
had some sort of excuse not to be here. But money’s tight and a free meal, especially one I know will be filling and delicious, is kind of a big deal. That, and they
are
Bridger’s grandparents.

When I step upstairs,
Bridger is into the legos, like always. Matt and all his brothers, Luke, Mark and John, (no kidding) were all into Legos. The collection left at home by her four boys is impressive. Bridger has pulled out the large box and started in. He’ll be quiet, busy, and happy for a while.

Matt is everywhere in here.
In the smell, and in the family photos on the wall. Even after two years, the pictures here crack into my chest, knocking hard on wounds that I’ve prayed over for hours. I remember him bringing me here for the first time, and I remember family holidays when I was pregnant with Bridger and Matt would sit next to me and I’d lean on him all day. I force myself to suck in a breath. If I start to cry here, Donna turns into a near inconsolable mess.

I follow Donna into the kitchen.
There’s less of Matt in here. After more than two years, coming to their house should be easier. And I guess it is. It’s just still harder than I want it to be.

“How’s your job going?
At the school?”

“It’s such a relief to have the same schedule as Bridger that I wouldn’t care what I’m doing, but I like it.”
It’s boring at times and a bit tedious. I never thought I’d be working as a secretary. “The kids are fun and my boss is a nice guy. It’s about as good a situation as I could ask for.”

“Well, that’s good.”
She pulls a large casserole out of the oven. I’m not a fan of casseroles, but I’m a fan of hers. The smell fills the kitchen, something with chicken, rice and lots of cheese. My stomach rumbles in response. “Luke finishes his degree soon. In the spring. I think he’s coming home after that.” Her eyes meet mine just long enough to know she’s hinting at the same thing she’s hinted at for a year.

Luke would be the perfect replacement husband for me.

While part of me is flattered that she’d pick me not for just one, but for two of her sons, the other part of me is all suspicion.
I know she worries about Bridger and what I do and don’t do for him. She also thinks that his problems have to do with me working and not being home. In reality she tunes out anytime I mention autism, testing, learning disability, or sensory integration. She doesn’t want to hear it. A good husband, and me becoming a stay at home mom, would fix everything. Also, I find the idea of being with one of Matt’s brothers a little strange. Or maybe a lot strange.

“Bridger!
Time to eat!” she calls.

“In a minute!”

“Bridger.” Her sharp tone is back. “I called you to dinner. You need to come now.”

I’m so grateful Bridger is in the other room, and not in here where he could feel her eyes on him.

“I’ll get him.” I dash out of the kitchen before she can use that grating voice again.

“You’re babying him,
Jaycee” she calls behind me. “His problems won’t get fixed like that.”

What Bridger’s facing
isn’t something that can be “fixed” it can be made better and we can find things to deal with it. But that’s all we can do. I keep my mouth shut.

“Hey sweetie.”
I sit cross-legged on the floor and speak at just above a whisper. One thing that wasn’t lost on me in my years of ignorance, is what he responds best to. “Grandma Donna made something really yummy. There’s lots and lots of cheese. It’s time to come to the table and eat. I promise you can finish building when we’re done, okay?”

“Okay.”
He sets down the two pieces in his hands.

I look a
t his wall, the designs he does with the colors used to make me feel so proud. They still do, but they’re also a reminder of how differently he thinks than I do. Than most people do. The patterns are both intricate and perfect. And he’s five.

“Jaycee, pretty girl. H
ow are you?” Ben, Matt’s dad, pulls me into a big hug.

Nobody could dislike Ben Layton.
No one. He radiates warmth and kindness. It’s a nice contrast to his wife’s occasionally abrasive personality. There’s a lot of Matt in his face, his brown hair, brown eyes, kind smile.

“Really good.”
It’s kind of true.

“And how’s my Bridger?”
His voice quiets when he talks to Bridger. Unlike his wife, he seems to understand the situation, at least a little bit.

“Pretty good.”
Bridger takes his seat and his eyes dart around the table. “Mom said there was cheese.”

I laugh.
“After the prayer, silly.”

Our evening passes quickly.
Ben and I talk about what his boys and their wives are up to. John and Mark both live in Anchorage with their families, and both of them can’t wait for Luke to be back up here again. He’s been on his mission and then in school in Utah.

When we finish,
I join Ben and Donna in the living room where Bridger is already building again. Ben sits next to Bridger and begins to ask him quietly about the pattern of the colors. Bridger can’t quite explain how he knows what color to put next, he just does.

“That boy is in desperate need of a haircut.”
Donna re-crosses her legs.

“I know.”
It’s honestly not worth the trouble. I figure I can get away with a few more weeks of growth before tackling that horrible project again.

“Hey Bridger?”
She uses a high-pitched squeaky voice. The only person he doesn’t mind hearing that from is Kyla. “Why don’t we get some scissors and give you a quick little haircut?”

I know what his reaction will be as soon as I
hear the words come out of her mouth.

“No!”
His hands immediately go to his head and big tears start rolling down his cheeks. “Please Mom, no!”

Ben throws a look at his wife
, and I kneel down next to Bridger.

I take his hands.
“Bridger, look at mom. No one is going to cut your hair. Not right now.”

His li
ttle heart is racing. I can feel it pounding even in his tiny wrists. His wide eyes stare at my lap.

“Okay?”
I want him to respond.

“Can we go home now, please?”
His dark brown eyes catch mine.

“Sure.”
I stand up. “Thank you so much for dinner. It’s getting close to our bedtime.”

“You’re welcome anytime.”
Ben rubs my back a few times.

“I used to just give my boy’s suckers.”
Donna’s voice is stiff with disapproval.

“Enough.”
Ben says it quietly, but Donna flashes me a look that says she’s not happy about Ben being on my side for this. Without Matt around, Donna has so little say in what happens with her grandson and I think it makes her seem more harsh than she’d normally be.

I hold
in my tears while getting Bridger’s shoes on. The only ones he’ll wear. I’m still holding in my tears as I slide on mine. We exchange another round of goodnights before Bridge and I step into the cold, night air. My body manages not to react until I put the car in drive. That’s the end of my self-control. I try to breathe normally, but there’s no stopping the tears. Fortunately, Bridger’s in the backseat.

When I pull up to the house, Sharon’s car i
s here.
Sister Allen
. It’s like someone’s pulled an enormous weight from me. She couldn’t be here at a better time.

Bridger leaps out of the car and
I hand him the keys. He loves to unlock our door, which is a new favorite thing of his, and right now I’m infinitely grateful.

“Well, how is
this for timing?” Sharon smiles as she steps out, her short brown hair framing her high cheeks bones. She has the height I’ve always wanted. She steps toward me, and then her face falls—probably at the tears once again streaming down mine.

I just nod.

She’s next to me in a second. “Can I come in for a sec?”

Again, I nod.

“Can I watch a movie in your bed, Mom?” Bridger calls as I step inside.

I take a deep breath to sound normal. “Sure, honey.”

“Thank you!” His voice carries into the living room from down the hall.

Sharon sits on my couch. “You were at the Layton’s?”

“Yeah.” I sit next to her. “Did you know that I never used to cry?” I wipe more tears as they come. My chest heavy from Bridger, and missing Matt and all the things that weigh me down. All the things I should be managing better than I am.

“I didn’t know that.”
She sits next to me, her arm comfortably resting over my shoulders.

“Not even at movies, or sappy commercials, or anything.”

“Hmm.”

Breathing is getting a little easier, but I still can’t stop the tears.
“And then I became a church-goer and I cried sometimes, not a lot, but sometimes.”

“Hmm.”

“And since Matt, and it’s not even that I’m thinking about him, it’s just that…”

“You know how to feel more deeply
, Jaycee. You could have gone the other way, felt nothing, especially after you lost him. But you didn’t. I’m very proud of you.” She gives me a squeeze.

I lean into her in relief.
She understands with me.

“I got more tears with each kid and then it just seemed to continue with each passing year after that.
” She chuckles in her soft, mellow voice.

“Well if that’s the case,
I’m going to be a mess when I’m eighty.”

“You’re just going through a lot righ
t now. Things’ll get better.”

“Yeah, that’s what they’re all saying
, but I still feel like I’m getting hit with one thing after another.”

“It feels like that for me
, too. I wish I could take some of the hits for you.”

“You
soften the blow.” Again, I don’t know what I’d do without the Allen’s close by.

“You have no idea how good that makes me feel.”

And she has no idea how good it makes me feel to hear her say those words. I lean on Paul and Sharon too much.

“I want so much happiness for you,
and your sister both.” She once again pulls me closer.

“Thanks.”

We sit in silence for a while. My heart feels a little more normal and my breathing works like it should.

“At least they didn’t bring up the temple thing again,” I say.

“Is that still an issue?”

“Well, yeah.” I lift my head off her shoulder. “
Bridger is their grandson. Matt and I never made it to the temple because Matt was Matt and he tried, but he wasn’t perfect. So Bridger’s not part of their eternal family. They don’t like that.” Temple marriages are a big deal in my church because it’s the step that seals you to your family after this life, and Matt and I never made it there for a million reasons. They’ve been trying to get me to go, and my guess is they want Bridger as part of their forever family more than me, but I could be wrong.