The Weight of Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

really difficult. Bridger squirms underneath and around my legs. He hates tight spaces.
    “Bridger, ple ase try to hold still for Mommy. I just need to get off your shoes.” I grasp around until I finally have off his tennis shoes.
    “Bridger.” Donna’s voice sounds stern. “It is your responsibility to help out your mother.”
    Her voice is sharp and even though Bridger doesn’t say anything to her I know it affects him. I feel his body tense.
    “It’ s okay, sweetie,” I whisper in his ear. He dashes up the stairs to somewhere he feels like he can breathe.
    “What are you going to do with that boy?” Donna stands three stairs higher than I am with her hands on her hips.
    “He just doesn’t process things in the same way that we do. He doesn’t like tight spaces.” I’m slowly learning things about my son. The more I read, the more I understand him and his odd behaviors. But I’m only beginning to feel in control of his issues, and all the learning has done very little to ease the guilt.
    She doesn’t move. Instead she stands still, looking down on me, completely unconvinced.
    I kick off my shoes and set them next to Bridger’s, wishing I could force her to understand.
    “Well, come on up. Let’s see what he’s into.”
    I hold in a sigh, wishing I had some sort of excuse not to be here. But money’s tight and a free meal, especially one I know will be filling and delicious, is kind of a big deal. That, and they are Bridger’s grandparents.
    When I step upstairs, Bridger is into the legos, like always. Matt and all his brothers, Luke, Mark and John, (no kidding) were all into Legos. The collection left at home by her four boys is impressive. Bridger has pulled out the large box and started in. He’ll be quiet, busy, and happy for a while.
    Matt is everywhere in here. In the smell, and in the family photos on the wall. Even after two years, the pictures here crack into my chest, knocking hard on wounds that I’ve prayed over for hours. I remember him bringing me here for the first time, and I remember family holidays when I was pregnant with Bridger and Matt would sit next to me and I’d lean on him all day. I force myself to suck in a breath. If I start to cry here, Donna turns into a near inconsolable mess.
    I follow Donna into the kitchen. There’s less of Matt in here. After more than two years, coming to their house should be easier. And I guess it is. It’s just still harder than I want it to be.
    “How’s your job going? At the school?”
    “It’s such a relief to have the same schedule as Bridger that I wouldn’t care what I’m doing, but I like it.” It’s boring at times and a bit tedious. I never thought I’d be working as a secretary. “The kids are fun and my boss is a nice guy. It’s about as good a situation as I could ask for.”
    “Well, that’s good.” She pulls a large casserole out of the oven. I’m not a fan of casseroles, but I’m a fan of hers. The smell fills the kitchen, something with chicken, rice and lots of cheese. My stomach rumbles in response. “Luke finishes his degree soon. In the spring. I think he’s coming home after that.” Her eyes meet mine just long enough to know she’s hinting at the same thing she’s hinted at for a year.
    Luke would be the perfect replacement husband for me.
    While part of me is flattered that she’d pick me not for just one, but for two of her sons, the other part of me is all suspicion. I know she worries about Bridger and what I do and don’t do for him. She also thinks that his problems have to do with me working and not being home. In reality she tunes out anytime I mention autism, testing, learning disability, or sensory integration. She doesn’t want to hear it. A good husband, and me becoming a stay at home mom, would fix everything. Also, I find the idea of being with one of Matt’s brothers a little strange. Or maybe a lot strange.
    “Bridger! Time to eat!” she calls.
    “In a