The Humdrum Life of a Hero

Chapter 24

When I envisioned my weekend a few days ago, it had less people, crying, and pancakes in it. It also involved me having more than twenty minutes alone to myself where I'm not slaving over pancake batter or playing therapist, yet I never find myself in that wonderful, fictitious in-between.

When I finally end my climb up the stairs from tucking Tony into bed, I find Jay sitting at the kitchen island. Okay, so maybe "tucking in" isn't the right phrase to use when describing how I helped a wobbly Tony down the stairs and pulled the comforter over him when he flopped down onto his mattress, but that's technically what I did.

"Everything okay?" He asks while drowing his pancakes with syrup. I walk over to the island and pluck the syrup bottle out of his hands. He whines when I say, "Save some for the rest of us, will you?"

"And to answer your previous question, not really." I grab a plate of pancakes and reasonably drench my pancakes with the syrup. I realize Jay is staring at me when I grab a fork from the utensil drawer. "Care to elaborate?" he asks quite impatiently.

"It's Tony. He kind of lost his marbles this morning." I tell him, putting a mild spin on it. Clearly not impressed with my vague explanation, Jay presses me for more information. "And why did he lose his marbles, Sarah?"

"Our mother," I state simply.

Jay leans back in barstool, a bit taken aback. "Did she come back while I was gone?"

"No. Apparently, Tony figured out that she didn't even ask about him when she was here during the twins' birthday, and he was, rightfully, pretty upset about it. He said he tried to do everything he thought would make her proud, or at least acknowledge him, but none of it mattered," I tell him, and then, just to throw it out there, I ask, "Did you happen to tell him what she said in the time she was here?"

The color drains from Jay's face as he slowly lowers his fork onto his now empty plate. "Well, yeah. He's one of my best friends, and he asked, so, of course, I told him," he timidly. Then realization dawns across his face. "I should've lied. Oh God, this is my fault, isn't it?"

As Jay's revelation fills in the missing pieces of the of how Tony found out, I understand how truly devastating it must be to hear about the mother you haven't seen in a year from your best-friend who actually talked to her. But even if Jay had lied to Tony, he probably wouldn't be any better off. Tony would be living on lies. It's better he knows the truth. It's better we all know the truth, which me reminds that Jay has been lying to me about a few things lately.

Also, when I envisioned this weekend, it had a lot less lies in it as well.

"Jay, don't blame yourself. You did the right thing," I give him a reassuring smile, "He deserved to know the truth."

We're quiet for a few minutes as we clean our plates and the other dishes I used to make breakfast. Jay rinses while I load them into the dishwasher. Though he does seem less guilt-ridden since I told him he did the right thing, he still looks off-beat, not his usual charming self. He's quiet and contemplative, two words that I wouldn't use to describe Jay Keely in a thousand years. When he sets a plate on the counter for me to place in the dishwasher, I place my hand on top of his. He turns his head to face me, a weary smile strewn across his lips. "Don't beat yourself up about it," I say.

He flips his hand over, twining our fingers together. I reach down with my free hand and flip the dishwasher back into place, removing the barrier between us, and take a step toward Jay. He reciprocates, pressing him and I together when he places a hand on my hip and pulls me against him. I lean in and lay my forehead on his.

"I feel terrible," he whispers, lips just centimeters away from mine. "He brought me here out of kindness, and this is how I repay him: shacking up with his sister and telling him his mother forgot his existence."