Page 71 of The First Gentleman

CHAPTER 67

Brooklyn, New York

I wake up slowly in the small room that was mine from infancy to age eighteen.

Bed in one corner, small desk and chair in another.

Bookcases along every wall.

For a few brief, merciful seconds, everything feels right.

Normal. Then the heavy wave of grief rolls in again.

It picks me up and swallows me.

I pull my sheet and blanket up around my chin as if they can protect me.

But they can’t. Nothing can.

Over the desk is a bulletin board with thumbtacked-on color photos, from my formal first-grade picture to the high-school graduation photo where I’m flanked by Mama and Pops, all of us smiling, me looking like I have a whole bright, shiny future waiting.

That confident young girl is gone.

So is the confident young woman she grew into.

And so is that bright, shiny future.

A soft knock. “Brea, can I come in?”

“Sure, Mama.”

My mother comes in and sits down gently on the edge of the bed.

She reaches over to stroke my hair.

“So you just planning on staying in bed forever?”

“Why not?” I feel her strong fingers against my scalp, then her warm hand on my shoulder.

“Mama? Is this what it was like for you when Pops died?”

It had been so sudden.

Pops died of a heart attack at work.

She leans over and kisses my forehead.

“I know that time was hard for you too. Don’t forget, you learn to live with the pain and love the memories.” She pulls my hand out from under the covers and squeezes it.

“Put your worries and your trust in the Lord, Brea. You’ll get through this, I promise.”

I know my mother would be hurt if I told her that I don’t have much belief in the Lord anymore.

Not after being a public defender and seeing how His children got used and abused.

Not after what happened to Suzanne Bonanno.

And Amber Keenan.

And Garrett.

It’s been one week today.

Three days after he was murdered, his body was released to his family in Swarthmore, Pennsylvania.

I think Garrett’s parents were a little surprised that Garrett made me the executor of his will, but they were okay with it.

It’s not like he had a huge estate to settle.

It took me only a few days to pay off his credit cards and close his bank accounts.

He’d made the will himself on LegalZoom.

He left me the Subaru, his precious guitar, his book royalties, and, as he wrote in the codicil, “anything in the house that’s not nailed down.”

At the funeral service, Garrett’s folks were polite, but I think they blame me for what happened.

For all I know, they’re right.

“Oh, Mama, I miss him so much!”

“I know, I know. Just try to think of better times.”

I try.

But right now, that hurts too much.