Abby's hands were shaking that evening as she pulled two mugs from the cabinet in Brody's kitchen and set them on the counter. Neither one of them had spoken much in the half an hour they'd stood in the cemetery, and the ride home had been nearly as quiet. Abby couldn't even bring herself to find a song to combat the silence as she poured hot water into the mugs and tore open the package of hot cocoa mix.
A few minutes later, she set one of the mugs down on the coffee table and carefully wrapped her hand around the other as she tucked her legs underneath her body and settled onto the couch to wait for Brody.
She was taking a sip when Brody walked over from his closet and sat down next to her, setting a small envelope on her lap. Glancing questioningly at him, she leaned forward and set her mug down next to his before leaning back and opening the envelope. Slowly, she pulled out the handful faded photographs inside. Lifting up the first one, she couldn't help the smile that came to her face.
"Is this you?" she asked as she held the picture out to Brody and leaned against his shoulder.
Brody nodded as he wrapped an arm around Abby's shoulder and took the picture from her hands. "That was my first birthday."
Abby grinned as she took back the image of the tiny blonde haired toddler with his face covered in frosting, a beaming red-headed woman crouching next to his high chair. "You were pretty cute."
"What do you mean, were?" Brody asked. "I'm still cute."
Abby laughed and pressed herself up slightly to kiss his cheek before picking up the next picture. "Whatever you say. Now, can we talk about this bunny rabbit costume?"
"Hey now, don't knock the rabbit costume," Brody said defensively, taking the Halloween picture from Abby's hand. "My mom made that for my older brother when he was five. I wore a lot of hand-me-downs over the years."
"I guess that was one good thing about being the only girl," Abby observed.
"Well, it was better than having no clothes at all, which would have been the alternative," Brody said. "Dad worked construction, so we weren't exactly living the high life. Paul's dad had a little more money, so he'd get the nice things and then when Paul outgrew them, they'd come to me."
"What do you mean, his dad? He's your brother, right?"
"My dad was my mom's second husband. Paul was her son from her first marriage. We have the same mother, but different fathers. There was never really much of a distinction when we were growing up, though. Paul's dad lived in Seattle with his new wife and kids, and Mom had primary custody out here, so it wasn't like he was being shuttled back and forth every weekend or anything."
"Do you have any pictures of him in here?"
"I think so." Brody picked up the stack on Abby's lap and slowly flipped through the pictures before grabbing one of the last ones and handing it to Abby. "Here. That was, uh, probably the last picture we took as a family."
Abby smiled sadly as she ran her hand over the image of a young Brody smiling up at the camera, a tall, red-headed boy standing next to him with an arm on his shoulder and a beaming couple standing behind the two boys.
"How old were you?" she asked softly.
"Ten."
"Wow." Abby sighed and picked up the pictures, setting the stack on the table before settling back next to Brody. "What happened?"
Brody closed his eyes and turned his head away for a moment.
"John…"
"She fell off a step stool. It sounds ridiculous, right? She couldn't have fallen more two or three feet. It's…it's the sort of thing that, I don't know, you get a twisted ankle or a couple of bruises. It's not how people die. It was, uh…it was Christmas Eve. She was putting the angel on top of the tree."
Brody paused and took a long, shaky breath as Abby rested her hand comfortingly on his chest.
"She was fine. She got up, she was talking, she put me to bed…she was fine that night. When I went to bed, she was fine, and then the next thing I knew, it was three or four in the morning and there were all these sirens and people in the house. She, uh, had a seizure in the middle of the night. Dad called 911. I think it was around noon that the doctors told us she wasn't going to wake up. They thought, maybe they could keep her alive on a ventilator for a while…for the baby, to give him some more time. Her heart started giving out a couple hours later, so they went in to deliver baby. She died on the table and the baby…they didn't get to him in time. They kept him breathing on a ventilator overnight, but his brain…it had been without oxygen for too long."
Abby wiped a tear from her eye and stared in him in disbelief. "Oh Brody…I wish I knew what to say."
Brody shook his head and sighed. "There isn't anything…it doesn't go away, Abby. This sort of pain, there's nothing that makes it better."
"So what do you do?"
Brody shrugged. "It depends. My brother got married and threw himself into his new family. My dad drank until he couldn't even remember his own name, let alone Mom's. And I just find it easier to get through this time of year if I pretend there never was a time when it was happy."
Abby grimaced at the thought. "How's that working for you?"
"It's the best I can do, Abby." Brody took a shaky breath. "This time of year, I can't look anywhere without seeing something that reminds me of that day. I have nightmares where I see her falling, I see the baby in the NICU, my dad crying…those are my Christmas memories, Abby."
"Have you ever tried making new ones?"
Brody shook his head. "My brother used to try to get me to come spend Christmas with his family, but it never felt right…celebrating just doesn't feel right."
"Don't you think your mom would want you to be happy, though?"
Brody smiled sadly and kissed her forehead. "I am happy, Abby. Just not on Christmas."