Mark felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him as he realized that, in attempting to comfort James, he had inadvertently burdened the young man with his own past. "Sorry for letting you hear this old man's sob story," he chuckled awkwardly, wiping away his tears.
James shook his head, a slight understanding in his eyes. "It's okay," he replied, recognizing the weight of Mark's feelings.
Looking up at the sky, Mark blinked back the sting of fresh tears. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that you're not alone in this. You still have your aunts to help you. Don't let the people you care about slip away because you think you have all the time in the world. You don't."
A heavy silence settled between them, filled with unspoken emotions. Finally, James broke it, his voice soft but resolute. "I get it. I won't."
Mark draped an arm around James' shoulders, pulling him in for a supportive squeeze. "See? Your dad wouldn't want to see you looking sad."
James felt the strength of Mark's embrace and managed a small smile. "Yeah, I think Dad would scold me if I sulked too much."
Mark laughed, the warmth of the moment breaking through the heaviness. "That's the spirit! My father used to say, 'A man must be firm even in the midst of the storm.'"
James looked at him, intrigued. "Your father must have been a great man."
Mark grinned. "Stronger than your dad, that's for sure!"
James smirked, the lightness of their banter returning. "Come on, man. My dad's still the best."
Mark chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Heh, my dad could lift a car."
James shot back, "Yeah? Well, my dad could toss a tank!"
Their playful bickering filled the air, their laughter echoing across the yard. Their shadows stretched long on the pavement, closer with every shared memory.
Unbeknownst to them, Jenny stood at a distance, quietly listening to their exchange. The sincerity in Mark's story touched her deeply, drawing tears to her eyes as it reminded her of her own regrets and the relationship she had with her mother over the years. As she watched the two young men bond over their shared loss, a wave of nostalgia washed over her.
Memories of her own mother surfaced—of moments filled with laughter, love, and warmth, but also of the misunderstandings and silence that had grown between them in recent years. Jenny remembered the times she had taken her mother's presence for granted, thinking there would always be time to mend their relationship. She felt a sharp pang of guilt as Mark's words echoed in her mind: don't let the people you care about slip away because you think you have all the time in the world.
She doesn't even know where to start because she already forgot when was the last time she had spend the time with her mom as she was lost in her pride.
A tear slipped down her cheek, but it wasn't just sorrow she felt; it was also a longing for closure, for a chance to rebuild the bridges she had let crumble. She wished she could go back in time, to embrace her mother and express the love she had never fully shown. The thought twisted in her heart like a knife, and she swallowed hard, fighting the swell of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
She wants to fix her relationship with her mom especially after her father left them with some skunk who he barely knows for a month.
As the boys continued to laugh and jest, Jenny's heart ached for the words left unspoken between her and her mother. She wished she could have shared her own stories, her own memories, the way Mark was sharing with James. Her gaze drifted to the ground, where the sunlight danced on the pavement, a stark contrast to the shadows of regret that loomed over her.
As Mark and James were in a playful banter by the pool, engaged in a spirited argument about whose father was greater.
"My dad could fix anything—he once repaired the entire roof in a single afternoon!" Mark declared, puffing his chest out in mock pride.
James smirked, folding his arms. "Sure, even though my dad is not good with carpentry stuffs but he once built a treehouse so sturdy it survived a hurricane. Beat that!"
"Treehouse?" Mark laughed, leaning back against the wall. "That sounds more like a glorified fort for you and your friends."
James shot him a playful glare. "Hey, it was a fortress! You should've seen it—complete with a lookout point."
As their bickering continued, a fleeting shadow caught Mark's eye, flitting past the corner by the kitchen door. His laughter faded, replaced by a frown. Was that Diane? Or something else? Curiosity stirred within him.
"Did you see that?" Mark asked, tilting his head toward the shadowy corner.
James followed his gaze, turning his head sharply. "What? What did you see?"
"I thought I saw something move over there," Mark replied, his tone shifting to one of intrigue.
James hesitated, his eyes widening with a hint of fear. "Should we check it out?"
Mark nodded, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and apprehension. "Yeah, let's see what's going on."
They crept closer to the shadowy area, the atmosphere thickening with tension. Then, soft sobs echoed faintly in the stillness, sending a chill through both of them. They exchanged uneasy glances.
"Is that... crying?" James whispered, barely able to speak.
Mark smirked slightly, trying to keep things light. "Maybe it's a ghost. Got your ghost-hunting gear ready?"
James, visibly unsettled, muttered nervously, "I'm not good with this ghost stuff. You go first!"
Mark chuckled, but even he felt the weight of the eerie sound. "Come on, there's no such thing as ghosts—especially not when the sun's still up."
Despite his joking, James tensed up as they moved closer. His earlier confidence had been replaced by a growing unease.
Finally, they reached the source of the sobbing, and before them stood a young woman, her face streaked with tears.