| 3:14a |
@@@@@idn't you think what your story would mean
@@@@@idn't you think what your story would mean to him?
Didn'tyouthink of warning me sooner?
She didn't answerNo doubt she'd been as caught up in the storytelling as I wasThe sight of his tear had done strange things to my
throat“Jamie, I'm so sorry
Jamie shook his headI wanted to know how it happened His voice was
gruff, trying to hide the pain
It was instinctive, the desire to lean forward and wipe that tear awayI tried at first to ignore it;
I was not MelanieBut the tear hung there, motionless, as if it would never fallJamie's eyes
stayed fixed on the blank wall, and his lips trembled
He wasn't far from meI stretched my arm out to brush my fingers against his cheek; the tear
spread thin across his skin and disappearedActing on instinct again, I left my hand against his
warm cheek, cradling his face
For a short second, he pretended to ignore me
Then he rolled toward me, his eyes closed, his hands reachingHe curled into my side, his cheek
against the hollow of my shoulder, where it had once fit better, and sobbed
These were not the tears of a child, and that made them more profound–made it more sacred
and painful that he would cry them in front of meThis was the grief of a man at the funeral for
his entire family
My arms wound around him, not fitting as easily as they used to, and I cried, too
“I'm sorry,” I said again and againI apologized for everything in those two wordsThat we'd
ever found this placeThat I'd been the one to take his sisterThat I'd
brought her back here and hurt him agai |