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Reaping that evening was short, since Mariang insisted on me taking it easy and only reaping two bodies, instead of my usual three. “You fell asleep in the middle of the afternoon,” she insisted. “It’s time you slowed down and let me pull my own weight. You can be the hero when I’m in my third trimester and need a break.”
I wanted to argue on principle, but girlfriend was right; I was beat. Plus, I still had to finish Von’s birthday present. Boston and I had skipped the bar and gone to the store after work that evening, picking up the necessary tools. Von promised to stay in our bedroom so he didn’t spoil the surprise, but I insisted we work in one of the guest rooms just in case he got too curious.
Boston and I worked for hours that evening, putting together the pieces of the project until Boston insisted we call it a night. “It’s done. Plus, I’m beat.”
“But we can do more! Von will want it bigger than this.”
“Bigger than this?” Boston was incredulous, motioning around the room that had barely any space to walk. “Why do you think he wants anything other than you? All of this won’t make up for the fact that he’s smitten, and you’re putting him on hold.”
“Oh, go to bed. I’ll be right behind you.” I waved Boston off and went back to my project with the tools I’d borrowed from Danny. I hammered and worked for another two hours, not tiring as I put my hands to use, hoping I could escape all the feelings I couldn’t manage to get a wrap on.
When I finally went to bed, I climbed into the middle as I always did from the foot of the bed, so I didn't have to squish anyone getting in. Von’s chest was moving evenly, but Boston was gathered into a ball of nerves. His eyes were squinched shut, and on closer inspection, I saw that his lashes were wet. I leaned over him, my hand on his shoulder. “Boston? Honey, you alright?”
“’m fine. Just go to sleep.” His voice was laced with emotion, his face red.
“Do you want to go downstairs and talk?” I offered, knowing Boston wouldn’t want this the second I said it.
“No. It’s just been a long day.”
I gazed down at the man who was shaking like a scared boy. My heart clenched in my chest for the stiff upper lip he’d attempted too many months in a row. Gently I rolled him over to face me, taking the edge of the sheet and wiping at his tears with the green material as he avoided my eyes. He smelled like his nightcap, which always had too much alcohol in it. “Sweetheart, I’m here.” I sunk down next to him and wrapped him in a gentle hug that set more tears loose as he clung to me, weeping into my breasts. He hadn’t broken down in a while, since Von now shared my bed with us. I ran my fingers though his hair, tenderly holding him so he could feel safe in my arms.
“Bishop, Bishop, Bishop,” he moaned in a tight whisper. “It hurts!”
Boston had been lost without his twin, his whole personality on mute as he waded through life like a lost puppy. I held the puppy while he broke in my arms, howling his pain to the universe. “Let it out,” I cooed, tucking his head under my chin.
Though Boston had kept his sobs quiet, Von stirred, sitting up to examine the situation with rumpled hair and puffy lips. “What’s going on?”
“It hurts!” Boston wailed, now having no reason to quell his mourning. “Bishop’s the other half of me, and he’s gone! Don’t let it be real!” Boston’s tears multiplied, and then he started getting even more worked up until he let out painful howls into my cleavage. He gripped my shirt hard, holding me to make sure I didn’t leave him in his dark hour of vulnerability. I anchored him to the earth as the waves rocked him, promising him I wouldn’t let go.
Von reached over me and rubbed his baby brother’s arm. “We’re here. We’re all here.”
“Bishop’s not here!” Boston wailed, his cries of distress reaching new heights. I was scared for him, worried at his level of grief that swung hard and fast. He was shaking in my arms, a shiver that started and wouldn’t stop.
“Von, can you pull for him? He needs help!”
“I am, but it’s hardly making a dent. Hold on. I’ll get Danny.” I barely heard Von before he ran out of the room. I did my best to hold Boston together while he grieved. He was howling like a madman into me, and I worried at what point his panic attack would become physically damaging.
Von ran back in with Danny, who was bleary-eyed and wearing only red flannel pajama pants. “Okay, mate. Hold on. We’ll help you calm down.” Von knelt on the bed beside Boston. He gripped the back of his baby brother’s head, and snuck a hand between us to palm his chest. Danny held his baby brother’s calf and waist from his position at the foot of the bed. Boston realized hands were on him, but he was too disoriented to make sense of why or who. He clung to me and started thrashing around like a fish out of water, struggling and fighting with weighted hands. Von cried out, “October, get back!”
It was hard to do anything fast, but the unexpected hands behind me slid me away from the mayhem. I looked up and found Ezra, messy-haired and surprisingly focused, despite the late hour. He managed to extract me from Boston for the few seconds it took the pulling to ramp up to the dose Boston needed. Slowly he stopped fighting, his howls muted to quiet moans of agony.
I pushed my hair away from my face. “Okay, that’s enough, guys. We don’t want him to never deal with his grief. Just take it down a notch so he doesn’t lose his mind.”
“Did he hit you?” Von asked, his shoulders tensed and his body lithe.
“No,” I lied. Boston hadn’t hit my stomach, which I’m guessing was what Von was worried about.
Ezra helped me to stand, hugging me like I was the one who needed it. When his embrace judged me to be stable, he moved to Boston, his hand on his forehead as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Oh, son. It’s been a long road for you.”
Boston’s wet face looked like it barely understood English, but when his eyes locked on Ezra’s, I knew they understood kindness, which was the only language Ezra spoke. He let out a few sniffles. “It hurts,” he informed Ezra.
“I know, son. It’s cruel to lose someone so wise and gentle. Bishop was a good man.”
“He was the good one. I need him to remember how to be good, otherwise I don’t know the way.”
Ezra permitted half a smile as he shook his head at Boston. “You have plenty of goodness in you. Bishop taught you well.”
Boston sat up and embraced Ezra, the two gripping each other in a manly hug that pulled at my heart and made tears cascade down my cheeks. Boston had a desperate need for tenderness and strength, and those things always rolled easily off Ezra.
Boston would make it through this because he had a good dad now. It was amazing the difference something so simple like that made.
Von sucked in through his teeth. “I need a little blood. That was a lot of pulling on an empty stomach. I’ll be back.”
Ezra laid Boston back down and tucked the covers up under his chin as if he was a child – as if Boston was his child. I climbed into the bed and slid in next to Boston. As if we were magnetized, Boston turned toward me and draped an arm around me, his eyes closed as he softly wept into my breasts. He could still feel his grief, but due to the pulling, it was more manageable now. Painful, but not overwhelming.
I don’t know at what point Boston and I became the sort of friends who could lean on each other when we needed comfort, but that night I was his good medicine.