Mercy: Chapter 11

Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who only dream by night.
- Edgar Allan Poe

Andrew heard the front door open and wished he hadn’t.

His mother was a mess, and his dad had disappeared somewhere again. It didn’t help matters that he was the reason for his mom’s tears. It was happening that way more and more often. Andrew had a bitterness in him that he didn’t dare give a voice to. If he did, Andrew was sure his mom would be hurt far worse than she had been already.

As he walked down the hall, he heard Belle speaking to his mother - she sounded concerned, by the crying, no doubt.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, looking straight at Belle.

Confusion filled Belle’s eyes, as she looked at her friend. He dressed the same as always - jeans and a snazzy button-down shirt - but his face was a mask of something she didn’t recognize.

“I thought we were gonna hang out…” Belle started, perplexed by his dark tone of voice.

He strode into the room further. “Well, we’re not. And I never asked you to drop by if I didn’t show.” he spat.

“Andrew,” Belle started, hating to see how upset his mother looked. “Would you excuse us?” she asked, trying to keep her voice pleasant, despite the fact that Andrew had been disrespecting her more and more recently.

Belle moved into the living room, and as expected, Andrew followed. He always followed when he was mad.

“We made plans. When you didn’t show up, I needed to make sure everything was okay.”

“No, you didn’t.” he defended.

“If it were you, you would’ve checked up on me.” she pointed out.

Andrew bristled. “If it were me, we wouldn’t have had any plans to break.”

“Why is that?” Belle wanted to know. “You’re mad ‘cause I came over here, and you never would act like this even a month ago. What’s going on? Your mother’s crying, you’re crabby and nasty, and that’s not like you.”

“What do you know about it,” he scoffed, taking a chair on the far side of the room.

Not put off in the least, Belle followed him, crouching in front of the chair. “I won’t know anything about it, unless you tell me. And I wish you would tell me.”

Belle’s eyes were alight with compassion, and Andrew had to look away. He knew if he didn’t get her to leave soon, things were going to start showing.

“Just get out. I never wanted you here to start with.” This time his eyes locked with hers.

The hurt flooded her eyes, just like he knew it would.

“Don’t speak to me like that,” she demanded quietly, her gaze piercing his.

Instantly, Andrew felt ashamed. He hadn’t recently, especially with all the arguments and hurtful things he’d said to his parents. Even to Belle. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel shame. Every time before this, he’d felt justified. He was in pain, and he wanted to cause it in someone else. As horrible as that was, it was the truth. Only now, with a soft reprimand, was able to come back to himself enough to feel regret.

“Would you please leave?” Andrew asked, purposely rewording his earlier comment, and praying she saw through this too.

Belle took his hands in her own. They felt cold, and he didn’t squeeze when she did.

In one word, he had his answer.

“No.”

Andrew closed his eyes, both relieved and terrified that she had decided to stay.

Belle pulled him to his feet, and walked them both downstairs to the den. She turned on their fireplace, and tossed a blanket to him, waiting for him to pick a spot. Unexpectedly, he chose the couch. Though he didn’t pat the area next to him, Belle knew it was implied, and went to sit beside him.

“You wanna tell me anything?” she asked softly, playing with the fringe on the edge of the blanket.

Andrew sighed. He wanted to tell her a million things. That he was a horrible friend, a horrible son. That his mom cried all the time, and his dad was never around anymore. That he was lonely. That he was hurt. But none of those things came.

Instead, he dug around his pants pocket, and withdrew a picture.

It looked dated and creased. Belle took it from him gingerly. It showed a chubby red-headed toddler holding a baby awkwardly in his arms. They were sitting in a rocking chair.

“Is this you?” Belle asked softly, brushing the image of the child with red curls.

“Yeah.” Andrew admitted, not able to look at the proud smile on his face in the picture.

“Who’s the baby?” she asked carefully.

“My brother, Thomas.” Andrew’s tone stayed matter of fact, though Belle sensed much more behind it.

“Like Andrew and Thomas.” Belle realized, remembering the disciples from the Bible.

Andrew smiled faintly. “Growing up, I was sure that was my brother and me. Later I found out, it was just coincidence. My parents didn’t even mean for it to be like that, it just happened.”

“It’s still neat, though,” Belle said. Secretly, she’d always wished she’d been born with a Biblical first name, rather than that of a Disney character. Her middle name was quite Biblical, but Christine just didn’t work as a first name, even if she wanted to be known by it.

“How old were you?” she asked, getting back to the picture she held.

“I was around three. That was when they just brought him home from the hospital.”

“You look happy to have him,” Belle smiled.

“I was…” Andrew swallowed, not wanting to get emotional about this. There were too many emotional people walking around his house already.

“What happened to him?” Belle asked, taking one of Andrew’s hands.

Andrew took a breath. “He died a week after that was taken. Crib death.” Then, almost as an afterthought: “It was in December.”

Instantly Belle understood. That explained his mother’s tears, and his mood. It explained why Andrew’s dad, who was always home, now suddenly was nowhere to be found almost every time she visited.

Shifting, Belle reached over, and put her arms around him. “Andrew, I’m sorry.”

Tonelessly - and as if she hadn’t spoken at all - he continued. “I remember kissing him goodnight and then the next morning, my parents were so upset. I asked where Tommy was, and they said he went bye-bye. I was six before they told me he was dead. They wanted to wait ‘til I had a better grasp of the concept. I think admitting it to me finally made it real to them… ‘Cause we moved out of New York then and came here.”

“What did you do when they told you?” Belle wondered, still holding onto him.

“I just went with it. I had figured out by then that something was off about what they told me. When they said he was dead, I just accepted it. It made more sense than that he went somewhere. He was just a baby, so even at three I knew he couldn’t go anywhere alone.” Andrew spoke softly, his voice still flirting between fine and out of control.

“So you’re hurting.” Belle told him seriously.

“I’m angry,” he corrected, though he continued to sound calm.

Gently, Belle brought a hand up to the back of his head, and kept it there. Defeated now, Andrew laid his head on his friend’s shoulder.

“You’re hurting…” she repeated gently. “It’s okay to hurt. You just could never tell anybody about it, and all that hurt turned into anger. But I bet you feel sad deep inside, don’t you?” she asked, speaking to the younger part of him - the toddler who never grieved.

Andrew nodded, not speaking, as he rested on her shoulder. Hot tears fell, and his body convulsed with silent anguish.

Belle patted his back, feeling his tears soak her shirt.

“You don’t have to be brave anymore,” she told him, barely able to hold back her own tears. “Not for me.”

Andrew held on tight, knowing that now, he didn’t have another option.

“Lord,” Belle prayed. “I thank You so much for Andrew. “And I thank You for the blessing that Tommy was to their family.”

“But, Lord, I ask that You would just comfort Andrew and his mom and dad right now, as they’re mourning this great loss. I ask that You would come and mend that break in their hearts that goes so deep, Father. I ask that You would come and fill the emptiness they’re enduring right now. I ask that You would draw them close to one another and help them be there for each other, because it’s now more than any other time, when they need to be together.”

“I thank You so much for Andrew’s friendship, and for all the ways he has helped me, as well as so many people and never complained. I thank You that You blessed him with the ability to handle the truth of what happened, and for the opportunity he has right now for You to be his strength. Let him not feel my arms around him, but Yours…”

--

Andrew didn’t know how long Belle prayed, or how long she sat there, and held him. But eventually, he felt okay enough to pull back.

The first thing he saw was her smile.

“I don’t feel like I deserved any of that after how I treated you,” he admitted.

“Well, you do. Don’t think about it, okay? Mercy’s not deserved, it’s just given.”

Comfortable silence fell between them, and for a moment, neither was compelled to fill it.

“I’ve never even been to a cemetery,” Andrew said. “My dad goes all the time, even if it’s just to local ones so he can feel closer to him. But I’ve never gone once. Even to the one in New York where Tommy’s buried. My parents go every year about this time. They take a plane out. They asked me last year if I wanted to make the trip with them, and I said no. “

“That’s why you came over and slept on my couch those couple nights last winter? That’s the trip out of town your parents made?”

He nodded.

“And this year?” she pressed.

“I wanna go…but I don’t think I can.”

“Too much?” she guessed, knowing how it felt to be overwhelmed by new circumstances.

Again, he nodded. “I’d like to go someplace though, just to pay my respects. Lay flowers, or whatever.”

“My grandmother’s buried at a cemetery nearby. If you felt comfortable, or wanted to, I could go with you and we could visit her.”

“Maybe sometime.” Andrew allowed, not sure how ready he was to embrace cemeteries and the reality that his baby brother was in one so far from him.

He hesitated. “What I really want is to do something for him. Once I figured out where he was, and the time of year, I’ve had this idea that he would be cold.” Andrew confided, studying the fringe on the edge of the blanket he was using. “Maybe I could make him something like this?” he looked to Belle hopefully.

“That’s a great idea,” she smiled. “They’re easy to make. I can show you.”

“Could you help me? I’m not much for picking anything out. I don’t think I could do that part.”

Belle pulled him to her resolutely. “I’d be honored. I’ll pray as I’m going, so it’s just right.”

“Thank you.” he whispered, feeling tears of gratitude fill his eyes.

“You’re welcome.” She squeezed his hand.

“I mean, I’m not ready to make the trip with them yet, but this way, they’ll at least have something to give him from me.” Andrew sighed again.

Belle leaned close to him, whispering in his ear:

“Tommy would be proud of you. You’re a good big brother.”

--

It wasn’t long before Belle decided to be true to her word, and buy fleece for Andrew’s baby brother. She knew Andrew probably wasn’t expecting it this soon, but Belle felt sure that in matters of the heart, it was important to follow through and do so quickly.

In the car, Belle prayed, and listened to Disney soundtracks - trying to get in touch with her own inner-child. It might look silly to a passerby, but Belle wasn’t interested in what they thought anyway. She sang and prayed all the way to the fabric store, and by the time she got there, and took in all the enormous rolls of fleece, she was intimidated.

Who was she to think she could accomplish something like this? A baby didn’t have a favorite color or toy. She didn’t have anywhere at all to begin. Belle thought of Andrew as a first grader, and how he had loved super heroes and knights. She wondered if it would be too presumptuous to assume that Tommy might have grown to love the same things.

Eventually, Belle decided against the heroic, solid standby colors of blue and red, and went looking for something for a baby. Once she had that thought in mind, Belle was instinctively drawn to the softer colors. Blues and yellows. Patterns depicting baby ducks, and teddy bears and blocks. Always praying, Belle waited quite a bit of time to hear from the Lord.

When she finally did, Belle carefully chose a soft yellow for the back of the blanket. After that, she wondered what she should get for the front. What might Andrew choose if he were here?

That narrowed it down a bit. Belle dismissed the pattern with ducks, and after careful thought, also left the one with alphabet blocks untouched on the shelf. She approached the roll with gentle blue background and lots of cuddly looking teddy bears. In seconds, Belle knew that was the one, and took her selections to the counter to get pieces cut.

“Are you making a blanket?” the woman behind the counter asked pleasantly.

Belle nodded. “Yes, I am. It’s actually for a newborn. Is there a size difference? I know a yard-and-a-half is usually standard.”

“We can work with you on that,” the woman said agreeably.

The pieces of fleece that were cut were so small that Belle’s heart ached. “Thank you,” she managed, trying not to tear up in front of this lady.

--

Once that was done, Belle swung by a little convenience store and surveyed the card selection, finally picking one that suited Andrew best. And after that, she went by the coffee house, where she knew he always went alone, and asked for his picture.

“I can’t,” he managed. “Belle, don’t ask me for it, it’s all I have.” His voice was thick with grief and feeling.

But Belle did ask again, promising before God, that she would bring the picture back unharmed.

Little did he know how much more he would get in return. Belle returned to the same corner convenience store, which also had a photo developing station. Belle ignored the counter itself and went nearby to the little machine used for resizing.

Carefully, she placed the worn three-by-five face-down in the machine and closed it, asking for assistance. When she was finally at the right screen, Belle chose to make it a five-by-seven, and cropped out the extra bit of wall in the background, zooming in on the brothers and the rocking chair.

When Belle was finished, she took the original out of the machine, and the two five-by-seven prints the machine gave her. Then, she went frame shopping. She chose something simple and wooden, and bought two of the same.

Within and hour, Belle returned to the coffee shop and gave Andrew back his picture, and told him she had gotten the fleece.

“Belle, I can’t.” he told her apologetically. “I know I said we’d do it, but I didn’t think you’d actually go buy the stuff. Just forget it, okay? His posture was defeated, and he held his head up with one hand.

Andrew wore a white tee shirt and blue jeans. His coat was slung over the back of the chair he occupied. He wasn’t wearing winter boots, Belle noticed, even though he had them. He looked more pale than usual, and his eyes were bright. His red hair looked dull and lifeless. She knew this was a tough day for him, and regretted taking his picture away at a time like this.

“When do your parents leave for New York?” Belle asked gently.

“In a couple days,” he managed.

Belle made a mental note that her project would have to be all done by then.

“Do you wanna stay at my house again?” she wondered.

He nodded, not looking up from the table top. He hadn’t even gotten anything to drink.

Belle decided to press a little, not wanting Andrew to have any regrets about not helping with the blanket, if that’s what he really wanted to do.

“If you really wanna make the blanket, you know I’ll help you, don’t you?”

“I know…I just don’t even think I can look at the material,” he admitted softly.

“Andrew…I’m sorry,” Belle apologized finally, putting an arm around him and laying her head on his shoulder. “I just don’t want you to be sorry you didn’t help.”

Closing his eyes, Andrew took a breath. He knew Belle was right. “Can you get it ready for me? Show me how to tie the knots?”

Belle nodded, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. “Do you want to see it now, or do you wanna look by yourself?”

“I’ll look at it myself,” he told her quietly.

“All right. Well I’m gonna go home and get it ready, and then I’ll go by your house and drop it off.”

“All right,” Andrew nodded. “Make sure my parents don’t see it. I’m gonna send it with them.”

“I know. I’ll make sure. If you’re not home, I’ll just leave it in your room.”

--

Andrew didn’t come home until after 9:00 PM. It wasn’t unusually late, but considering he’d spent more than six hours at the same place, it felt like he’d been out a long time. His parents were up, but they were in their room talking. So, he went to his room quietly, not wanting to draw extra attention to the bag of fleece.

He was alone in his room, silently looking at the bag that Belle had set just inside his bedroom door. She’d even pulled the door closed behind her , so that his parents could be left in the dark just like he wanted. This, Andrew knew, he had to do on his own. He couldn’t rely on Belle to make it and then give it to his parents to take to New York - it wouldn’t be right.

Carefully, Andrew brought the simple plastic bag to his bed, after the door to his room was shut and locked securely. He sat on his bed, and fought the urge to fill his room with background noise of the radio or a CD. It was tempting to drown out his thoughts and his grief with his favorite song - or even a sad one - or some of the extra irritating Christmas music the stations insisted on playing since before Thanksgiving. But instinctively, Andrew was aware that he needed to pour all of himself into this, without distraction.

He hadn’t needed a refresher on a square knot. So it didn’t matter that Belle forgot that detail. But as Andrew peered in the bag, he saw that everything Belle had promised, was done. The fleece was cut along the sides for the fringes. Gently, he took the fabric out, and set it on the bed. It was folded, which was more than he expected.

Though the fleece was sitting in front of him, Andrew couldn’t yet detect a pattern or a color. He wasn’t ready. But slowly, he unfolded what would soon be a blanket for his brother, and as he did, he saw teddy bears. Against his will, he smiled, because it was perfect.

The fabric was pale, washed out blue. In its midst there were brown, fuzzy bears, surrounded by puffs of white. Had Belle known there were clouds, or was it coincidence? Taking hold of the first two fabric ties, Andrew finally noticed the gentle yellow fabric at the back. He shook his head, slightly, not quite believing what an amazing job Belle had done picking out just the type of blanket Tommy might have had years ago.

It was something Andrew could imagine his mother choosing while she was pregnant, or in the days after the baby’s birth.

Andrew set to work diligently, feeling his fingers work instinctively tying the knot as if it were second-nature. A smile touched Andrew’s lips again. He was so grateful that Belle had stayed away from the traditional choices of garish red and deep pine - Christmas colors - for this blanket. He had a hard time with red and green. Those were the colors always present when he was sad growing up.

Time evaporated as Andrew worked. In no time, the blanket had taken shape, and looked like it should. The gentle blue was now outlined by yellow fringe.

Andrew reached for the bag, to replace the blanket for safekeeping until his parents’ trip. Pulling it toward him, for the first time, he realized it had some weight. Reaching inside, Andrew took out a package, wrapped prettily in Beauty and the Beast holiday paper. Andrew didn’t know how Belle always had an unending supply - not that he minded.

He opened the envelope first, knowing a card was inside, but unaware of an occasion. The outside was simple, a black-and-white snapshot of two children - taken from behind. They had their arms around each other. Andrew knew by the overalls that they were boys.

Opening the card, he read:

Andrew,
Hope this is all right. I’ll be praying for you, until you call and say that you’re done. There’s something else, too. Just because I thought it might be nice to have, for both of you.
All my love,
Belle

Silently, Andrew stared at the wrapped package. Slowly, he tore the paper back. What he saw took his breath.

It was his picture. He had almost forgotten Belle had taken it for a while that afternoon. It was bigger now, and it was framed. Andrew picked it up, and immediately saw that beneath it, there was a second, identical picture.

He shut his eyes, knowing what he had to do.

Lovingly, he took out the blanket, and opened it, tucking one of the pictures between the folds. That one would go to New York and be with his brother.

Andrew set the other picture on his nightstand, and then picked up the phone to call Belle.

--

“Thank you.”

“Andrew,” Belle realized, hearing his voice on the other end of the call.

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him.

“Thank you,” he repeated, not able to say anything else.

“You’re welcome,” Belle said, feeling tears choke her voice. She let them come.

Andrew stared at the blanket, which he had since taken out of its bag, and spread over the comforter of his own bed. “I’m done,” he managed. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

Belle had never heard him so grateful, or so surprised. She stayed silent.

“And the picture…Belle, I don’t know what I ever did to deserve a friend like you.” Andrew was speechless.

“I thought you should have more than one picture of him,” she offered, through her own tears.

“I’m sending one to him,” Andrew told her seriously.

She smiled. “I figured you would. Well, you come over whenever you want, okay?”

“I will, but I have to give this to my parents first,” he told her, his voice softening.

“I’ll see you soon.”