Say Those Three Little Words

March 8th, 2009

I miss him already.

I just… it’s difficult to explain, and it probably sounds really stupid, but I just feel happier when Josh is around. It’s like I need him just to get through the day. Without him… I feel… incomplete.

The kid is one of the strongest, funniest, and most caring people I know (not to mention the most gorgeous thing to ever walk this Earth), second only to my mom.

Speaking of which, I’ve been having a bad feeling about her lately. Grandma’s letter is still stuck in my head. I keep telling myself that there’s nothing to worry about, she’s only saying that to be cautious, blah blah blah…but there’s always that “what if?”

It’s like an army of infected parasites are marching through my stomach, killing everything in sight with a single blow. I feel utterly sick, and I mean the kind of sick where you just want to lay on the floor and quietly die.

But I have to be there for my mom. I have a feeling she needs me — now, more than ever.

“Hey, Oli. I’m really happy for you.” His mother said, giving her son a warm smile. She placed a plate of freshly prepared garlic bread right next to a bowl of spaghetti and sat in the seat adjacent to the 22 year old.

“What?”

She clasped her hands together, sighing happily. “I really like Josh… and I like how happy you’ve been recently.” She took a piece of bread and bit it thoughtfully. “I’ve missed that about you, Oliver… the genuine smile, the passion for life, the will to survive… it just… it seemed like you were giving up on yourself before he came into the picture.”

Oli shrugged. “I guess.”

She was silent for a moment, finishing off the slice and wiping her fingers delicately on a napkin. “You really like him, don’t you?”

Unable to say how much Josh meant to him, since none of the words forming in his head were good enough, Oli simply nodded.

“I remember when your father and I were like that… cupcake stage, as your generation would call it… of course, I’m not saying that your relationship is going to turn out like ours did — God, I hope it doesn’t — but-”

“Mum, it’s okay.” Oli laughed. “I get it. We remind you of how you guys used to be.” He spooned a serving of spaghetti on to his plate and smiled. “We remind you of the love you guys used to have.”

She pursed her lips. A potpourri of memories flowed in front of her eyes. Everything she did in the real world — taking her own serving, another piece of garlic bread, and beginning to eat — seemed mechanical, almost fake. She was living in the past again.

She remembered back to when she was first memorized by Ian’s breathtaking smile (the same smile Oli inherited) on their first date. They were so happy then, laughing and talking about all the little things and sharing a kiss on her front porch. They were a cliche couple, but Carol Sykes thought they were perfect.

Until the cupcake stage was over, about 6 months into the relationship.

Her eyes began to water, but she quickly blinked them away. She didn’t want Oli to worry about her or to see the mental trauma she was going through.

For seventeen years, she thought about him. She thought about calling him and attempt to rekindle old flames. She thought about how he used to make her feel when they kissed, touched, held each other in the quiet of the night.

She also thought about the mistakes she made that eventually drove them apart. Tom’s death, which led to an increasingly violent verbal war-fares between the two, her alcohol problem, her unwillingness to give the vice up for her family.

She recalled the day he left, the look in his eyes when they parted for the final time. He looked distant, cold, like he didn’t want to be there at the moment. Carol didn’t blame him, she wouldn’t want to be around her either after all the things she did.

Oli moved out of his seat and wrapped his arms around the fragile woman. She then decided it was okay to let go and dissolved into tears. Oli tightened his hold, rocked her, sang softly in her ear because he knew she really enjoys that.

“I-I almost lost you.” Oli’s mom sobbed. “I l-lost T-Tom… and your father… and I a-almost lost you.”

“But you didn’t, mum, and that’s what’s important…”

“By the g-grace of God…” She laid her head on her son’s chest. “Y-You’re all I have left… t-that’s why I b-begged you to come with me… i c-couldn’t do it alone.”

She broke down into another fresh set of tears. Oli’s eyes widened, and every time he talked back, complained, or even gave a dirty look to his mother about the situation came flooding back on the waves of guilt. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“Mum, I’m sorry… I didn’t know… I shouldn’t have been so stubborn about moving.” “

It’s okay, baby.” She said after she had calmed down a bit, the tears mostly gone but leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “It’s alright… I kind of expected it if I’m being honest.”

Oli chuckled in spite of himself. “I love you, mum. You know that? Thank you for being there for me.”

“I love you too.” She whispered. “I’m sorry your dad left you.”

“It wasn’t your fault. He was the one being a dickhead.” She noticeably cringed in his arms, and he rubbed her shoulder soothingly. “Sorry… you still love him, don’t you?”

“He was my first everything… and that’s something you’ll never be able to let go of… ” She mumbled. “I just wish he’d come back.”

The infected army marches on. Another enemy soldier has fallen.

“He probably won’t… I bet he doesn’t even remember me.” She continued. “Or you. Or anything we had together.”

Oli opened his mouth to speak, remembering what his grandmother said about his father searching for them, but quickly clamped it shut. He didn’t want to give her false hope. “I miss him.”

“I know you do, mum.” Oli whispered and, feeling like it was necessary although not entirely true, added, “I miss him too.”



“Flight 492 for Rhode Island is departing from Gate 12 in 10 minutes.”

Ian got up from the airport chair he was reclining in and approached the gate his flight was on. Going through the standard procedure, he followed the crowd heading out towards the plane that would take them all to Providence, a sick smile on his face and a crazed look in his eye.

I’m gonna get you.

Settling into a seat in first class and buckling his seat belt, he leaned his head back and allowed himself to start to drift. He barely heard the flight attendant ordering them to buckle up, or the pilot repeating his speech for the second time that day.

Instead, his mind focused on seeing Carol and her son’s reactions upon his arrival. He could almost imagine the look of shock (with a slight flicker of hope) in the woman’s eyes, or the confusion in the boy’s. But I’m not coming back to you, oh no, I’m happier without you… I just need answers.

The plane began pushing forward, and Ian gripped the edge of his seat, eyes still shut.

The plane lurched upwards, along with the contents in Ian’s stomach, and the male noticeably shuttered. He hated flying with a burning passion. The unreliability of machinery, the pesky flight attendants, the knowledge that you’re about 5 or 6 miles above the ground made him uncomfortable.

He had to do it though. He had to… for answers.

That honestly is all he wants. Ian would be lying to himself if he said he lost all feelings for Carol, but there just wasn’t enough there to try and start again with her. The only memory he has of his ex-wife was the day she was dangling on the edge of sobriety, moments away from making it but dangerously close to falling into old patterns.

If he knew her like he thought he knew her, she was sucked back into that vortex and Oli was left with taking care of her.

Sleep began to engulf him into its warm clutches, his eyelids feeling heavy and his body slowly beginning to relax. As the plane finally reached cruising altitudes a few minutes later, Ian had fallen asleep, the same sick smile on his face.