Slider

I lowered my head to hers. “I’m sorry, A

She didn’t answer me. She simply looked off into the distance and kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t here with me. She was somewhere else. Remembering something, feeling something, and I wasn’t included. I stood with her in my arms and I set her in the passenger seat.

“Do you want me to take you home, or would you like to come back to my place?”

Again, silence.

I didn’t know what to do. A new side of A

Setting her on her bed, I slipped her shoes off and asked her if she needed anything. There was no response. She lay down and faced the wall. I don’t think I’d ever felt so helpless in my life. Did I lay down beside her and cuddle her and let her feel me there with her? Did I leave her alone and check on her later? Did I go into the kitchen and make something for her and see if she would eat? What the in the hell was the right thing here? I chose the first option. Scooting in behind her, I wrapped my arm around her middle and pulled her back to my chest. I felt her breathe in deep and exhale. She still hadn’t shed a single tear, which I found more disturbing than her silence. I knew she was feeling broken from the news, but the way she loved Noah, there was bound to be a river of tears waiting to come crashing out of her, it was just a matter of time. She needed to cry. I brushed my thumb back and forth in a soothing fashion across her stomach, and I waited for something to hit me. I hoped sleep would claim her for at least a little bit. In the meantime, I would also wait for some guidance to what I needed to be doing.

Sleep did take her under after she shifted around restlessly for almost a half hour. I quieted her the best I could, and her cat jumped on the bed in front of her and purred in her face. I think he gave her more comfort than I was capable of giving her. When I felt her heavy breathing, I carefully moved out of the bed without disturbing her and did the next best thing I could think of. Stepping outside, I called my mom.

“Hey, baby, whatchu up too?” My mom’s southern drawl was always sugary sweet when she heard from her boys.

“Mom, something happened.”

I could hear her moving and shutting a door. “Sorry, I had some company over. What’s going on, Turner?”

“You remember that baby A

“Of course.”

“She got a call today that he died.”

Mom gasped. “Sweet Jesus, what happened? How is A

“Honestly, we don’t know many details, but he’s gone.” I swallowed hard. I, myself, was getting choked up. “She’s not doing well, Mom. She won’t speak and she hasn’t cried.”

It took her a moment to respond. “Okay, well we all grieve differently.”

“No, Mom, you don’t get it. She’s lost. I can see it in her eyes, she’s not there right now. As soon as I told her, everything shut off and she receded. I don’t know what to do.”

“Alright, baby, it’s okay. Tell me where are you at and I’ll come to y’all. She may need another female to confide in. It’s not you, but she’s a very guarded girl. I could tell from the start. I can see where this would make her shut down.”

Maybe she was right. Maybe A

I gave her the address and told her to come whenever she’d like, but that A

Time was flying by, yet slowed every time I looked at the clock. A

About that time, the doorbell rang. A

“I called my mom. I’m sorry if that makes you upset, but I think you need someone other than just me right now.”

She simply nodded.

Going to the door, I let my mom in and took her purse. “Where is she?”

“Down the hall, the last door on the left.”

Taking no time to ask me anything else, she headed off in the direction I told her. I followed behind her. Upon entering the room, A

She cracked.

Tears pooled in her eyes, and for the first time in hours, she released her emotions. My mom cooed to her and told her it would be okay. She simply let her have her feelings without forcing anything from her. It was then that I knew I made the right choice asking her to come over. A

“I named him. Turner was the only one I told.” Her voice was hoarse from sleep, and not speaking.

“You did? Well, I’m sure it was a special one,” my mom replied.

“Noah. It was my dad’s middle name.”

I didn’t know that. She never shared that bit of information with me.

“Noah is a good and strong name. Sounds like he was a fighter.”

A fresh wave of tears and sobs wracked her body. “He was, except now he’s gone.”

“I don’t know what your religion is, honey, but I am a firm believer that God has a plan for all of us. When it’s our time to be called back to his side, it’s because we are needed elsewhere, and to teach those of us who still remain how to live differently. Noah had his purpose. What the purpose was . . . well, that’s up to you to search for that answer.”

I could tell she was pondering this thought. I didn’t think A