R is for Remember
I woke in a cold sweat, shaking at how real the dream had been. I gently
leaned over and kissed the top of my partner’s head and slipped out of bed
quietly. Without a sound I made my way to the windows I often stared out of when
I couldn’t sleep or a memory just wouldn’t stop haunting me. Tonight was one of
those nights.
A night when I couldn’t escape the horror of the past as much as I wanted to. I
relived it more than anyone knew. He was there, so beautiful, so happy at the
gift I’d given him. It wasn’t much but it was a huge gesture for me. I remember
stroking his hair back from his face just so I could see that smile. It was in
that moment, when he turned and walked away from the jeep then stopped and
looked back that I understood why Deb called him Sunshine.
He was a beacon in the darkness that had become my soul, the light I clung to
even then without realizing it. And then the darkness claimed him.
It was what woke me every time. I saw the bat swing, heard the awful sound it
made when it connected with his skull and my heart stopped beating. I didn’t
think it would ever start back up or that I would move. It seemed as if
everything had slowed down like they do in the movies when they want you to
understand what a character is feeling in a time of disbelief or disaster.
Finally my feet moved and I chased that son of a bitch until I could reach him.
I picked up the bat and swung as hard as I could then ran back to him. Lying
there in a pool of his own blood and I screamed.
I screamed because I felt my soul slipping away as his blood ran out. I felt my
only chance at happiness leaving and I selfishly wanted him to stay.
I have no memory of who called 911 or when they got there. I seem to recall
authoritative voices yelling at me to move, asking me if he was my son or my
nephew or something stupid like that. I snarled at them but said nothing. I
couldn’t say the words even as he lay dying. I couldn’t just admit that he was
my lover, my partner, the man I loved. Not then. Not for years after.
I pushed a hand through my hair and rested my forehead on the cool glass. The
dream turned from one tragedy to another. I heard the news about the bombing on
the car radio and I turned back to find him. I’d nearly lost him once and I
couldn’t go through that again. But there I sat in the back of that car, my
heart not beating, and I yelled at my driver to go faster.
I jumped from the car even before he stopped and tore through the crowd.
Jennifer was huddled under a blanket with her beau and she had no idea where he
was. I pushed past police barriers, ignored warnings and went to find him.
I finally began to breathe again when I saw his soot covered face. It was the
most beautiful sight in the world and I knew that no matter what, another night
wouldn’t pass without him knowing that I loved him. I held him and I heard it
all over again. That bat swinging, the bomb exploding. It was what woke me, as I
said.
I felt his arms around my waist, his lips soft against my neck. I inhaled his
sweet scent deeply, never wanting to forget. I turned and took him in my arms,
kissing him softly.
“Come back to bed, Brian.”
I let him take my hand and lead the way and I remembered. I remembered all of
the good times, the times his laughter filled my world with joy and how before
him I had only survived. I remembered that in almost losing him I’d learned to
live, to love and to finally be happy.
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