For the remainder of the Mass, they stand side by side and hand in hand. I watch them find their voices, and the sight of it fills my heart.
Starting over.
I’m seeing it. For all my dreams of complex new beginnings and convoluted endings, it can all be as easy as this: a boy singing hymns again.
I’m sorry.
I close my eyes at that. When I open them again, the mass is over. People are crowding together, shaking hands, and talking to one another. A ruddy-faced man turns to me, smiling. “How are you today?”
“Fine. Peace be with you. ” I can’t stop smiling. I feel almost giddy with happiness. I’d forgotten this feeling.
We follow the crowd to the parking lot behind the church, where a group of carolers, dressed in old-fashioned Victorian garb, is singing. Volunteers are handing out Styrofoam cups full of hot cider and paper bags filled with hot nuts.
We stand at the back of the crowd, listening to the beautiful voices.
“I can’t see, Dad. Pick me up. ”
Daniel scoops Bobby into his arms.
I move in close to Daniel. Although people are all around us, listening to the carolers, whispering among themselves, sipping hot cider, I can hear only Daniel’s quiet, even breathing.
The beat of it matches my heart.
And I think: This is it. My moment. If I’ve learned nothing else in the past few days, it’s that happiness must be fought for. I need to tell him how I feel tonight; tomorrow, this adventure of mine will end. At that, my heart starts hammering in my chest. A headache flares behind my eyes. I’ve always been afraid to reach for what I want.
But not this time. I won’t let a panic attack stop me.
I turn to him. “Daniel. ”
The carolers change songs. I recognize the music, but can’t quite place the song. Something is wrong. There’s a buzzing in my head. My vision is blurring.
“Can you hear me?” I say, making my voice loud. When he doesn’t look at me, I dare to touch him. “DANIEL!” I am screaming his name suddenly, trying to grab him.
“Joy?” Bobby is looking at me. “What’s wrong?”
I can see how scared he is. And he can see how scared I am.
“Something’s wrong,” I say. I’m moving away from them, but I don’t want to. I fight to get back; there are people everywhere. I think I see Stacey, standing in the crowd. She’s crying and saying something, but I can’t hear her. But that’s not possible. She has no idea where I am.
Something is buzzing. I can hear people talking, yelling.
Don’t leave us, Joy.
It’s Bobby . . . and it’s not.
I reach out, grab Daniel’s sleeve. “Help me. ”
“Dad, help her!”
“Joy?” Daniel whispers my name; at least I think he does. I can’t hear anything over the buzzing in my ears.
My chest hurts.
The carolers change songs again. I hear their voices: “It came up-on a Mid-night Clear . . . ”
CLEAR.
“. . . that glor-ious so-ng of old . . . ”