Tommy came back two days later.<\/p>\n
I knew it was him before I looked up.<\/p>\n
His footsteps were light, and he paused outside the doorway before entering.<\/p>\n
I wiped my hands on a rag.<\/p>\n
"Morning, Tommy."<\/p>\n
"Morning, Bear."<\/p>\n
He stepped inside and went to the chair.<\/p>\n
The first thing he did was look at the shelf.<\/p>\n
His drawing was still there.<\/p>\n
He smiled, then sat down.<\/p>\n
Tank was checking a motorcycle's electrical system.<\/p>\n
Tiny was sweeping near the entrance.<\/p>\n
Wheels was trying to fit a new handle onto an old toolbox.<\/p>\n
Tommy watched each of them for a while.<\/p>\n
Then he asked me if I had a piece of paper.<\/p>\n
I found a clean sheet in the drawer and handed it over with a pencil.<\/p>\n
He placed the paper across his knees.<\/p>\n
For several minutes, he drew without speaking.<\/p>\n
I didn't interrupt.<\/p>\n
Children often needed quiet to get started.<\/p>\n
Adults had a habit of filling every silence because we assumed silence meant something was wrong.<\/p>\n
Sometimes it simply meant someone was thinking.<\/p>\n
Tommy drew a house.<\/p>\n
It had a front door, four windows, and a chimney that leaned to one side.<\/p>\n
He added a path from the door to the street.<\/p>\n
Then he drew two people beside the house.<\/p>\n
One was small.<\/p>\n
The other was taller.<\/p>\n
He made the taller figure's hair longer than the smaller figure's.<\/p>\n
When he finished, he looked at the picture for a long time.<\/p>\n
I set down the tool I was holding.<\/p>\n
"That's a nice house."<\/p>\n
Tommy nodded.<\/p>\n
"That's where I used to live with my mom."<\/p>\n
I felt my chest tighten.<\/p>\n
I had known his mother had died.<\/p>\n
I had heard the words in the conversation with Helen.<\/p>\n
But hearing Tommy speak about her made the loss feel different.<\/p>\n
It was no longer a fact about a family across the street.<\/p>\n
It was a little boy looking at a drawing of the home he had shared with someone who wasn't coming back.<\/p>\n
"Would you like to tell me about her?" I asked.<\/p>\n
He looked up.<\/p>\n
"She liked yellow."<\/p>\n
"Yellow?"<\/p>\n
"Flowers. And cups. And my raincoat."<\/p>\n
He touched the pencil to the taller figure's dress.<\/p>\n
"She said yellow was a happy color."<\/p>\n
I pulled the stool closer, leaving enough space between us that he wouldn't feel crowded.<\/p>\n
"Sounds like she liked bright things."<\/p>\n
Tommy nodded.<\/p>\n
"She used to sing when she made breakfast."<\/p>\n
"What did she sing?"<\/p>\n
He thought about it.<\/p>\n
"I don't remember all of it."<\/p>\n
"That's okay."<\/p>\n
"Sometimes I remember the song, but then it goes away."<\/p>\n
I knew better than to tell him that he would always remember.<\/p>\n
Memory didn't work that way.<\/p>\n
Some things stayed sharp.<\/p>\n
Others faded around the edges.<\/p>\n
Sometimes a smell brought back a voice you hadn't heard in years.<\/p>\n
Sometimes you tried to remember a face and found you could only recall the way a person smiled.<\/p>\n
I had lost people myself.<\/p>\n
I knew that trying to hold every detail could become another kind of pain.<\/p>\n
"Even if you can't remember every word," I said, "you can still remember how it felt when she sang."<\/p>\n
Tommy considered that.<\/p>\n
"She made breakfast feel nice."<\/p>\n
"Then that's something worth remembering."<\/p>\n
He looked down at the drawing again.<\/p>\n
"My aunt says I have to be brave."<\/p>\n
I kept my hands still.<\/p>\n
"What does brave mean to you?"<\/p>\n
He shrugged.<\/p>\n
"Not crying."<\/p>\n
I shook my head gently.<\/p>\n
"I don't think that's what brave means."<\/p>\n
He looked at me.<\/p>\n
"Then what?"<\/p>\n
"I think being brave can mean telling somebody when you're sad. It can mean asking for help when something is hard."<\/p>\n
He studied the pencil in his hand.<\/p>\n
"What if you cry?"<\/p>\n
"Then you cry."<\/p>\n
He looked surprised.<\/p>\n
"Even grown-ups?"<\/p>\n
"Especially grown-ups."<\/p>\n
That earned me a small smile.<\/p>\n
Tank had stopped working.<\/p>\n
He wasn't staring at Tommy.<\/p>\n
He was looking down at the motorcycle, giving the boy the privacy of not being watched.<\/p>\n
Tiny continued sweeping, but his movements had slowed.<\/p>\n
Wheels quietly put the toolbox handle down.<\/p>\n
None of them said anything.<\/p>\n
Tommy drew a yellow circle above the house.<\/p>\n
"That's the sun," he explained.<\/p>\n
"It looks warm."<\/p>\n
"Mom liked sunshine."<\/p>\n
He pressed the pencil harder against the paper, coloring the circle until the yellow grew dark.<\/p>\n
Then he asked a question that caught me completely unprepared.<\/p>\n
"Do you think she can see me?"<\/p>\n
I sat very still.<\/p>\n
I had my own beliefs about death, but I wasn't going to put them into a child's heart as if they were facts he had to accept.<\/p>\n
"I can't tell you for sure what happens after someone dies," I said. "But I do know the love your mom gave you is still part of your life."<\/p>\n
Tommy stared at the drawing.<\/p>\n
"How?"<\/p>\n
"In the things she taught you. The songs you remember. The way you think about her. All the good things you carry from being her son."<\/p>\n
He ran his thumb along the edge of the paper.<\/p>\n
"I wish she could come here."<\/p>\n
"So do I, buddy."<\/p>\n
It was the first time I had said something like that without knowing whether it was the right thing to say.<\/p>\n
But it was true.<\/p>\n
I wished he could have brought his mother into the shop.<\/p>\n
I wished she could have seen him sitting in that crooked chair, drawing motorcycles and asking questions.<\/p>\n
I wished she could have known that a handful of old mechanics had started looking forward to seeing her boy.<\/p>\n
Tommy leaned against the back of the chair.<\/p>\n
For a while, neither of us spoke.<\/p>\n
Then he folded the paper in half.<\/p>\n
"Can I keep it here?"<\/p>\n
"Of course."<\/p>\n
He handed it to me.<\/p>\n
I didn't put it on the shelf right away.<\/p>\n
I asked whether he wanted me to keep it with his other drawing.<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
So I found another sheet of cardboard and placed the new picture beside the first one.<\/p>\n
The drawing of the motorcycles sat on the left.<\/p>\n
The house with the yellow sun sat on the right.<\/p>\n
Tommy stood up and looked at them together.<\/p>\n
"They're different," he said.<\/p>\n
"They are."<\/p>\n
"This one is here."<\/p>\n
He pointed to the motorcycles.<\/p>\n
"And this one is home."<\/p>\n
He pointed to the house.<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
"That's right."<\/p>\n
He looked between the two pictures.<\/p>\n
"Can both stay?"<\/p>\n
"They can both stay."<\/p>\n
His shoulders relaxed.<\/p>\n
He returned to the chair.<\/p>\n
A little later, Tiny brought him a cup of water.<\/p>\n
Tommy thanked him.<\/p>\n
Tiny crouched beside the chair.<\/p>\n
"Your mom sounds like she was a good woman."<\/p>\n
Tommy nodded.<\/p>\n
"She was."<\/p>\n
Tiny's voice softened.<\/p>\n
"I'm sorry you lost her, little man."<\/p>\n
Tommy looked at him.<\/p>\n
"Thank you."<\/p>\n
Tiny rose slowly and went back to the workbench.<\/p>\n
I watched him move away.<\/p>\n
Tiny was a huge man with hands that could lift a motorcycle engine.<\/p>\n
Yet when he spoke to Tommy, he never tried to make the boy feel small.<\/p>\n
He gave him room to answer.<\/p>\n
He let the silence last.<\/p>\n
He didn't pretend there was a way to repair grief.<\/p>\n
That afternoon, Tommy spent some time helping Wheels sort screws.<\/p>\n
He seemed quieter than usual, but not unhappy.<\/p>\n
Every so often, he glanced at the two drawings.<\/p>\n
I wondered whether the picture of the house had helped him feel closer to his mother or whether drawing it had made him miss her more.<\/p>\n
Maybe both things could be true.<\/p>\n
When the afternoon grew late, I reminded him that Helen would probably be expecting him home.<\/p>\n
He nodded and packed his things.<\/p>\n
Before leaving, he stood in front of the shelf again.<\/p>\n
"Don't let anybody throw those away."<\/p>\n
"I won't."<\/p>\n
"Promise?"<\/p>\n
I looked him in the eye.<\/p>\n
"I promise."<\/p>\n
He seemed satisfied.<\/p>\n
Then he turned toward the door.<\/p>\n
Helen was already waiting across the street.<\/p>\n
She had come to the corner and stood with her arms folded against the cool breeze.<\/p>\n
Tommy saw her and walked toward the entrance.<\/p>\n
I followed him outside.<\/p>\n
"He talked about his mother today," I told Helen quietly.<\/p>\n
Her face changed.<\/p>\n
Only for a second, but I saw it.<\/p>\n
"What did he say?"<\/p>\n
"He drew their old house. He told me about the yellow things she liked."<\/p>\n
Helen looked toward Tommy.<\/p>\n
He was standing a few feet away, watching us.<\/p>\n
"Did he cry?" she asked.<\/p>\n
"A little."<\/p>\n
She closed her eyes briefly.<\/p>\n
"I keep telling him he has to be brave."<\/p>\n
"He can be brave and still miss her."<\/p>\n
Helen opened her eyes.<\/p>\n
I wasn't sure whether she agreed.<\/p>\n
"I don't always know what to say to him," she admitted.<\/p>\n
The words came out so quietly that I almost thought I had misunderstood.<\/p>\n
I looked at her more carefully.<\/p>\n
For the first time, I saw something besides impatience in her expression.<\/p>\n
I saw exhaustion.<\/p>\n
I saw a woman trying to manage a life that had changed without asking her permission.<\/p>\n
And I saw someone who might be afraid of doing the wrong thing.<\/p>\n
"You don't have to know the perfect thing to say," I told her. "Sometimes listening is enough."<\/p>\n
Helen looked at the shop behind me.<\/p>\n
"He's different here."<\/p>\n
"How?"<\/p>\n
She hesitated.<\/p>\n
"At home, he asks me questions all day. Sometimes I don't have the answers. Sometimes I just need to get through the next thing."<\/p>\n
I understood that more than I wanted to.<\/p>\n
"I don't think he expects you to have every answer."<\/p>\n
"He expects me to be his mother."<\/p>\n
She looked away as soon as she said it.<\/p>\n
I didn't know what to tell her.<\/p>\n
Tommy had lost his mother.<\/p>\n
Helen had not become his mother simply by taking him into her home.<\/p>\n
She was his aunt.<\/p>\n
She was trying to care for a child who had lost the person he depended on most, and she was doing it while carrying her own responsibilities.<\/p>\n
That didn't mean every choice she made was right.<\/p>\n
It meant I needed to be careful about what I assumed.<\/p>\n
"I think he knows you're his aunt," I said. "And I think he's still learning what that means now."<\/p>\n
Helen pressed her lips together.<\/p>\n
For a moment, neither of us spoke.<\/p>\n
Then she called Tommy over.<\/p>\n
He came immediately.<\/p>\n
"Ready to go?" she asked.<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
He looked at me.<\/p>\n
"Tomorrow?"<\/p>\n
I glanced at Helen.<\/p>\n
She seemed to be thinking.<\/p>\n
"We'll see how the day goes," she said at last.<\/p>\n
Tommy accepted the answer, though he didn't look completely satisfied.<\/p>\n
I crouched so I could meet his eyes.<\/p>\n
"Your pictures will be right here."<\/p>\n
He smiled.<\/p>\n
"Both of them?"<\/p>\n
"Both of them."<\/p>\n
He followed Helen across the street.<\/p>\n
I watched them reach the house.<\/p>\n
This time, I didn't feel only worried.<\/p>\n
I felt something else, too.<\/p>\n
Helen had listened.<\/p>\n
She had admitted she didn't always know what to say.<\/p>\n
It wasn't a solution.<\/p>\n
It wasn't even a promise that things would become easier.<\/p>\n
But it was a beginning.<\/p>\n
I went back into the shop and stood in front of the shelf.<\/p>\n
Two drawings rested on the cardboard.<\/p>\n
One showed a little boy standing among four bikers.<\/p>\n
The other showed a house beneath a yellow sun.<\/p>\n
I straightened both sheets.<\/p>\n
Then I turned off the light over the workbench and left the pictures where Tommy could find them when he came back.<\/p>\n
Tommy came back two days later. I knew it was him before I looked up. His footsteps were light, and he paused outside the doorway before entering. I wiped my … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":39999,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-40011","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-insightdrama"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/40011","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=40011"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/40011\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":40031,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/40011\/revisions\/40031"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/39999"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=40011"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=40011"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/insightdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=40011"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}