“Joe”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Can I come in?”

I nod.

Mom comes over and sits on the edge of the bed next to me. I cringe, waiting for the tongue-lashing I am about to get. But she leans over and kisses me on the forehead. She does this a lot. I guess I am still her baby. I have always been much closer to my mom than my dad. I am completely unlike my dad and my brother. If I didn’t look so much like Mom I'd swear I was a changeling, swapped at birth by some evil spirit from another universe. Or, maybe just adopted.  I don’t have to try to be someone different for her. I don’t have to be an intellectual genius – I can just be me – smart enough, skateboarder extraordinaire and owner of the largest comic collection in Bayport!

Although, maybe, I have stretched the boundaries lately.

After she kisses me she lifts my chin and looks me in the eyes and something hugely embarrassing starts to happen. Everything goes all blurry. I am going to cry! Furious with myself, I blink back the tears with a gigantic sniff.

Mom puts her arm around my waist.

“Oh, sweetie”, she murmurs, "you’ll be o.k. I promise. One day it will start to feel better. And, you know, a week isn’t so long. He’ll soon be back. I know it is not a good time for him to go.”

I want to pretend that I don’t care but I can only nod miserably. I can’t speak. My throat feels like it’s been tied in knots.

Using my sleeve I wipe my runny nose. To give Mom credit, she doesn’t moan at my grossness here.

“I miss her, Mom. So much.”

Mom gives me a little squeeze.

“Honey, when your grandmother died I thought I’d never get over it, I thought I would never smile again. But I did in time and so will you.”

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Yes, but she was old. Old people are supposed to die!”

Mom’s face flickers briefly and then she sighs, quietly.

“Joe, when you love someone it doesn’t matter how old they are when they die, they still leave you and it still hurts so badly. Love is love and pain is pain. We all feel it, no matter how old or young we are. What happened was cruel and wrong, sweetheart. Iola was so young and I know you had your plans and dreams together. I know how close you were.”

“We were more than close” I mumble, aching for my mom to understand how much I loved Iola.

“I…we…we had…” I choke as a tear slowly plops into my hands.

“Oh…I see…” A long, heavy silence. “You and Iola…”

I nod my head slowly as it is beginning to throb badly, this half way conversation not helping.

“Did you take…oh,” Mom breaks off, obviously realising the stupidity of the question she was about to ask.

“Precautions?” I finish for her, “I don’t think that really matters now, does it?”

Pain sears across my forehead.

“You must have really loved each other.”

Mom understands.

Mom understands nothing at all.