Chapter 5 - The Promise David Had Broken
That evening, the plaid shirt hung over the back of Elijah's bedroom chair.
The letter rested on his nightstand beside his favorite toy dinosaur.
Elijah had asked Renee to read it three more times.
Each time, he interrupted with new questions.
Did Jordan really like basketball?
Had they ever shared a bedroom?
Did Jordan know he hated broccoli?
Renee answered what she could.
When she didn't know something, she admitted it.
For the first time in years, remembering Jordan felt less like approaching an open wound and more like introducing one son to the other.
Downstairs, David sat alone at the kitchen table.
The newspaper from that morning lay untouched beside him.
Renee entered carrying two mugs of tea.
She placed one in front of him.
“Eli finally fell asleep,” she said.
David nodded.
“Did he ask about the shirt again?”
“He asked whether Jordan would have laughed at how big it was on him.”
David smiled sadly.
“He would've laughed until his stomach hurt.”
Renee sat opposite him.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then she asked, “Why didn't you tell me about the letter?”
David wrapped both hands around his mug.
“I thought if you knew there was a letter and I couldn't find it, you'd lose one more piece of him.”
“You didn't get to make that decision for me.”
“I know.”
She waited.
David looked toward the dark window.
“After the funeral, everybody kept telling me to be strong for you.”
Renee said nothing.
“I thought that meant I wasn't allowed to fall apart. Every time Eli asked about Jordan, I saw how badly it hurt you. So I changed the subject.”
He swallowed.
“Then he stopped asking. I told myself that was good.”
Renee looked down at her tea.
“I thought you wanted us to move on.”
“I never wanted to forget him.”
“But you made talking about him feel forbidden.”
David closed his eyes.
She continued carefully.
“I stopped telling stories because you would leave the room. I stopped mentioning his birthdays because you couldn't stand hearing his name.”
“I know.”
“And our little boy grew up thinking his brother was somebody he wasn't supposed to ask about.”
David pressed a hand to his forehead.
He could see it now.
All those times Elijah had pointed to Jordan's photographs and received only a few hurried sentences.
All the questions he had avoided.
All the memories he had mistaken for dangers.
“I was afraid,” David admitted.
“Of what?”
“That if I talked about Jordan, I'd start crying and never stop.”
Renee reached across the table.
“David, you were allowed to cry.”
He looked at her.
“You lost him too.”
“I did.”
Her voice broke.
“And I needed my husband. Not somebody who acted like our son had become a subject we couldn't mention.”
David began crying.
There was no effort to hide it this time.
“I miss him so much.”
Renee moved beside him.
“I know you do.”
“He asked me if Eli would forget him.”
She closed her eyes.
“He asked you that?”
David nodded.
“I promised he wouldn't.”
Renee put her arms around him.
For a long time, they sat together.
Neither tried to fix the other's grief.
Neither pretended that finding the letter erased the last four years.
Eventually, Renee said, “We need to make a different promise now.”
David wiped his face.
“What promise?”
“That Elijah gets to know his brother. Not just how Jordan died. Who he was.”
David nodded.
“And we stop hiding how much we miss him?”
“Yes.”
He took her hand.
“Okay.”
The next morning, Elijah came downstairs carrying the letter.
He had already put the plaid shirt back on.
“Mommy? Daddy?”
David turned from the kitchen counter.
“Morning, little man.”
Elijah climbed onto a chair.
“I have an idea.”
Renee smiled.
“What kind of idea?”
“Can you show me everything Jordan liked?”
David looked at his wife.
“Everything?”
Elijah nodded enthusiastically.
“His toys. His pictures. His basketball stuff.”
Then he grew serious.
“And can you tell me stories I don't know?”
David pulled out the chair beside him.
“Absolutely.”
Elijah unfolded the letter.
“Because I don't want to forget him.”
Those words brought back the promise David had made beside Jordan's hospital bed.
But this time, he didn't turn away from the memory.
He sat beside Elijah.
“You won't have to,” he said.
Elijah studied his father's face.
“Even if I ask a million questions?”
David smiled.
“Even then.”
The boy seemed satisfied.
Then he asked a question David hadn't expected.
“Can we go to the place where Jordan is buried?”
Renee stopped moving.
David looked at his son.
They had taken Elijah to the cemetery as a toddler, but never since he was old enough to understand where they were going.
“Why do you want to go?” David asked.
Elijah looked down at his brother's shirt.
“Because I have something to tell him.”
May you like
David slowly nodded.
“Then we'll go together.”
