p.288

The Chosen, alternate Dreuven ending

Then I sat and listened to Danny cry. He held his face in his hands, and his sobs tore apart the silence of the room and racked his body. I went over to him and knelt down and wrapped myself around him. I could feel his trembling and shaking.

And then I was crying too, crying with Danny, silently, for his pain and for his years of suffering, knowing that I loved him, truly and deeply.

I could hear him louder now, in my ear, in my heart, in my soul, pulling it apart. He was whole again. His father had spoken to him after years and years of tortuous and sadistic silence, and now as he sat and put his pieces together, I was there with him, pressing my nose against the side of his face and pleading with him, promising him that it was okay. That we'd be okay.

We cried like that for a long time, before he started to stop shaking and I pulled him tightly against my chest. Slowly he looked up at me, his eyes wide, I could see the shakiness in them but they seemed almost blank.

He was waiting for me to say something. He didn't know what to do. So, I threaded my fingers in between his, feeling the warmth of his palm against mine. I held it to my lips and kissed his hand softly, his skin smooth and pale.

I then stood up, and Danny followed. We walked to the window, looking out at the sun, low over the brownstones on the other side of the yard. An ailanthus stood silhouetted against its golden rim, its budding branches forming a lace curtain through which a wind moved softly. We watched the sun set, the evening spread itself slowly across the sky, hand in hand, two bodies one soul, and completely silent.