warning: mentioning of suicide

This apology
is long overdue,
but I’ve been meaning to say
I’m sorry.

I’ll never forget
when you were sitting next to me.
Mom was in the room too
and you were browsing on your phone

with a smile on your face
until
your
world

shatters.
Panic.
You panic,
and I don’t understand.

Mom’s attention is still on the television
as you begin to cry.
“What’s wrong?” I ask,
but my harsh tone seemed more like a demand.

“Evan!”
You scream,
and it finally catches mom’s attention.
“Evan’s in the hospital!”

“*****,” I begin,
feeling powerless
at the sight of
your bright red face.

I can’t stand
seeing you cry.
I am curious to know
why—

“He’ll be fine.”
Mom intervenes,
voice gentle
despite the sharp underlying tone

most single parents have
when addressing
their crying child.
“Do they know what happened?”

“No,” you respond,
and you’re now finding it
difficult
to breathe.

I look to mom for guidance
as I want her to know
that it’ll be okay.
“It can’t be that serious.”

Your phone pings.
I’ll never forget
how the color
drained from your face,

jaw slack in horror.
It takes your body a second
as the shock runs through the nerves in your body,
and you sob into your palms.

“What?!” Mom screams.
We both jump.
You reply,
voice hardly above a whisper,

“H-he tried to…”
Your voice falls lower.
“He tried to—“
Mom’s visage softens.

“Honey,” she says, holding her arms out
for a hug.
“Now, what happened
with your little friend?”

With your lips muffled against her shoulder,
you reply,
“He tried to **** himself.”
Your whole body quivers with sobs.

I remain
seated
in the same place,
ignoring the tears running down my cheeks.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, *****.”
Mom joins in.
“Yes honey, he’s young.
He’ll come back.”

It takes a while to convince you,
but then you finally come to.
I remember smiling and thinking,
Yeah, he’ll get better later.

__
“You were wrong!”
You scream at me
nearly a week later
one morning.

I jump,
unaware of what happened.
I’m surprised,
seeing you so upset.

“What did I do?!”
I shout, confused
as I hold up my hands
to mask my face from you.

“You. Lied!”
You shout, sobbing into your palms
wearing your childhood nightgown
printed with purple stripes, now faded after so many washes.

“*****?”
I ask,
and I reach my arms
out for a hug.

You slap my wrists away,
glaring at me
through the tears
in your eyes.

Stunned, I pause,
and you respond,
“They took him off life support today!
You lied!"

I tried to apologize then,
and it took a few tries
until you said you accepted them.
However, apologies will never make it the same.