He Left Me Alone

61

As surprised and frightened as I might be, I still managed to open the front door for Mrs. McHale. She stood there outside the door.

Her figure was tall and skinny. Even skinnier than the last time I saw her. Her legs were not bigger than twigs. A small crooked smile, the one that reminded me of Logan's, appeared on her face.

I sat across from her on the sofas in the living room after I made her a drink. When I looked at her, I realized that she had brought a box. It was now on her lap.

"How are you feeling?" I managed to ask.

She put another smile before answering with, "I'm good. Thank you. How about you?"

"I'm fine," I smiled. "I have graduation in a few days."

It was silence after that. I kept turning from the drink on the table to the floor, or wall, or basically anything to avoid staring at her. Once I glanced at her, I caught her tightened the box on her lap. I didn't know what was inside the box, though.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

I didn't understand what she meant, so I asked, "What do you mean?"

"It was my fault."

"I don't understand."

She looked at me. Her eyes were teary.

"He was so young," she said as tears began to come out of her eyes and as I realized what she had been meaning. "It was my fault. It was our fault."

There were so many thins I had been meaning to ask her but none of them could come out.

"He loved you," she reached for my hand. "He really did."

Not a single could come out but after trying a few times, I came up with a small, "I loved him too. I still do."

"I found the box yesterday when I cleaned up his room. There was your name on it. Thought maybe this box meant for you."

She handed me the black and white polka dot box. I was too numb to open the box. To see what was inside the box.

Yet another mystery about him.

"I'm sorry, Thomas."

Even after an hour or two after Mrs. McHale left, I was still sitting there, the black and whithe polka dot box was still on my lap.