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“Would you braid my hair?” he asked, sitting on the floor between my legs.
“Dude, I don’t even know how to braid my own hair. I’m the worst girl ever,” I laughed, running my fingers gently through his hair.
“I don’t have a lot of it, unlike you. Please?” He whined, tilting his head back and grinning up at me.
I flicked his forehead gently and pushed his head down. Gently plaiting his hair in three, I began to braid. With each turn of hair, I gained confidence, pulling strands tighter so they wouldn’t fall out. It was a quiet Tuesday afternoon. I was on vacation and he had a break from filming his new show. We both agreed that one day a week we would both schedule an off day and just hang out with each other.
I tied off the braid and began tucking the loose ends in to the sides when I felt him tapping on my ankle. Three short taps, three long taps, three short taps.
“SOS? You ok?” I ask, gently massaging his neck and shoulders.
He let out a heavy sigh and nodded. “So you know I’m from the projects.”
I nodded, moving my hands down his back.
“My mom called just before you started my hair. A friend of mine was shot on the step of the building I grew up in. Like out of nowhere, leaving the building. Took four shots and he’s gone. Dead. Leaves behind a girlfriend and two kids. He did nothing wrong!” Anthony cried, slamming his fist down on the floor.
I quickly slipped to the floor and wrapped him up in a tight hug. He held me tight and sobbed into my neck. Holding him close, I kissed his cheek and rocked him back and forth.
I had never been exposed to gun violence until I moved to New York. Anthony and I had drastically different childhoods. I grew up in a small town in Maine, where everyone knew everyone and only used a gun to hunt. Anthony grew up in the projects of Brooklyn. I grew up in a two-parent affluent household, he grew up with only his mom. We couldn’t have been from more different worlds, fate brought us together backstage at a Hamilton show. I had just moved to attend the nursing master’s program at NYU and my friend was a lighting tech at the show. He introduced us and we’ve been together ever since.
“Ant, baby I need you to take a few deep breaths,” I cooed, holding his cheeks in my hands. “You’re going to have a panic attack if you don’t breathe.”
He looked up and took a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I just keep thinking that that could’ve been me. I could be in a drawer somewhere or in the ground,” he wiped his eyes furiously with the back of his hand.
I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”
Anthony sighed and drew shapes on my back. “Had I not been in Hamilton, had Sarah not found me, had my mother not been so hard on me to stay out of trouble. I could’ve been in with the wrong crowd.”
I nodded. “You could also have been a baseball player. Listen, the universe is a crazy place. You’re meant to be where you are for a reason. While that reason may not be clear at the time, it reveals itself in the end. Sure look at us! I wasn’t originally going to go to the show that afternoon, but it was Y/F/N’s first show out of college and I wasn’t about to miss it. I thank whoever’s decision that was every day. It gave me you. I mean it also gave me Daveed and Oak but who’s ranking,” I giggled, poking him gently in the cheek.
He chuckled and moved me off his lap. Getting to his feet, Anthony checked his phone for any new information and went into our bedroom. “I’m going to shower. I feel gross after that breakdown.”
I smiled and nodded, “I know the feeling. Do you want anything when you get out? Some food? A tequila shot?”
He shook his head. “Are you up to cuddle? I know we were going to go to the park today, but I just want to stay in bed and cuddle.”
I kissed his cheek gently, “of course. Go shower, I’ll meet you in bed.”
I went to the kitchen and grabbed a few snacks, knowing he would need to eat and drink after what had just happened. I made a few sandwiches, grabbed some Gatorade and water, and set up the picnic on our bed. I set up Hulu to play reruns of SVU and got comfy.
Anthony came from the bathroom dressed in his boxers and a black tank. Grabbing his phone from the living room, he plugged it in on his nightstand and climbed into bed. I made him eat and drink half a bottle of Gatorade before allowing him to lay down. He wrapped his arms around my torso and laid his head on my chest.
“Visitation is on Thursday and Friday and the funeral is on Saturday. I know you’ve got clinic that day, but would you come with me to visit his family?”
I kissed the top of his head. “Of course, baby. Whatever you need.”
He nuzzled closer and his breathing began to even out. “Just hold me. Please don’t let go.”
I held him tight and muted the tv. “Never. Get some rest, Ant.”
Anthony drifted off to sleep as I gently traced my finger across the freckles on his nose and cheeks. “I love you,” I whispered, putting my glasses on the nightstand and drifting off myself.