“I didn’t know how to give it back,” he whispered.
“You just did.”
Marcus’s face crumpled.
***
After showering, we invited Marcus to the cafe.
The waitress, Ria, came over with her order pad, already smiling at Ben. She glanced at the fourth empty chair and didn’t say a word about it.
“The usual, boys?”
“The usual,” I said. “But make it bigger. There are three of us now.”
She winked and walked off. Marcus smiled, laughed, then covered his face.
“The usual, boys?”
“That’s the first time I’ve genuinely laughed since the accident,” he said.
My sweet Ben leaned against him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Grief didn’t end that afternoon. I want to be honest about that. But a door I’d kept locked for two years finally cracked open, and light came through.
My sweet Ben leaned against him.
Every Saturday since, the three of us swim and race in her memory. There are three chairs at the cafe table, and the fry order keeps getting bigger.
