Reckless Abandon(91)
“Emma and I are gonna make taffy.” His voice comes up at the end as if he is ending the statement in a question.
I turn toward him and then back to my mom, who is looking at him in surprise. “Is that right? Well, there is plenty of room in the kitchen for everyone. Let’s get inside.”
Mom puts her arm around me and I walk with her into the house, dad carrying my bag behind us.
Mom, Dad and I stayed up until one in the morning making dinner and taffy for the rehearsal dinner tonight. I told them stories about the Juliette Academy and my life in New York. Dad shared some of his new lectures with me and mom introduced her newest kitten, Camilla, named for Matthew McConaughey’s wife. I was quite surprised Leah would name a cat after the devil woman who stole her man but I suppose since she is getting married, it’s only right to let go of her hold on the great McConaughey . . . at least where his marital status is concerned.
It was close to midnight when mom finally worked up the courage to ask me about my own love life. I could tell a few times she was dancing around the topic. I know Leah told them I was dating someone and dad saw the plane. How much information they actually know about the guy I’m dating, I have no idea.
If I wasn’t so unsure about where Alexander and I stood I would have offered up the information myself. The problem is, he still hadn’t called. I kept my phone on ring but left it in my bag. I wasn’t going to stare at it all night.
So I told them I was dating someone but it was casual. If I told my parents I had fallen in love with an emotionally unavailable man who keeps secrets hidden in a manila envelope, they’d panic and suggest I see Dr. Scheuler. No, thank you.
When I finally made it to bed, I looked at my phone and saw there were still no calls, no texts, nothing. I turned my phone off and stared at the ceiling until I passed out.
“So, that’s what’s been going on in my life,” I say to the piece of stone in front of me. It’s beautiful, about four feet tall, and made of red granite. Angel wings adorn the top and the name Luke Robert Paige written in large font. There is space below his name where mom and dad have vowed they want to be buried as well.
I came to the cemetery this morning. It’s my first time since that cold day in January when we laid Luke to rest. It’s just as cold today as it was then, but I came prepared with a blanket, thermos of hot coffee, and some of the taffy dad and I made last night. It’s too early to be eating sweets but I don’t care. Today is the kind of day that needs to start with eating something bad.
I’ve been here for a little over an hour, telling Luke everything that happened since the day of the car accident. Turns out he’s a better listener than Dr. Schueler. He lets me get all my thoughts out without interrupting. Okay, it’s a morbid thought but there is truth. Sometimes you just need to say what you’re feeling out loud without someone else asking questions or telling you why you feel the way you do. A person just needs to feel without analysing it.
“I know it’s crazy to love someone like Alexander. But, you see, Luke, he is sweet and loving and funny and passionate. I know you and Leah think music guys are lame but he is far from lame. You two would have gotten along so well. He has a motorcycle. I know you would be out on it in a second. He also knows celebrities and models.” My inside coil at the thought of some of the ones he’s dated. Leah filled me in on a few. Talk about not measuring up. I look like a wildebeest compared to some of them. I shake it off as Leah would and carry on. “He definitely would have hooked you up with a model or two. Imagine what your frat brothers would’ve said.”
The thought makes me sad. The words would have are terribly depressing.
“I miss you little brother.” I roll my eyes up in order to keep the tears from falling but they are stinging from the inside. I inhale a shaky breath. “It’s hard to believe you’re not here. I try to do that thing where you pretend the person who died is away at war or something and will return any day. The truth is, you’re not coming back.” My eyebrows feel heavy on my forehead and fall down toward my eyelids. “I have been trying to avoid coming here for so long. It’s like, if I don’t come here, then you’re not really here and none of it happened.”
My hand curls up to feel that familiar burn that has kept me from moving on. Funny thing about it, it doesn’t hurt as much as it did almost a year ago. It’s become a part of me. Something I am learning to tolerate.
“Everyone thinks my depression was from losing my ability to play the violin. As if losing you wasn’t enough, it was the music that sent me over the edge.” I shake my head at the though. “Fuck the violin.” I say it again louder. “Fuck. The. Violin.
“If God gave me a choice that night and told me it was your life or my entire arm, I would have said, take the arm. Hell, I would have said take my life! It was never about the damn violin. It wasn’t about my f*cking career. It was about you. It was always you.”
My heart is beating rapidly and my body shivers, not from the cold but from the nerves of the feelings in my blood, running through my veins.
“For so long I’ve been wallowing, pretending I was depressed about my damned hand when I really couldn’t care less. I just want you back. That’s right, Luke, I want you back and I have been too scared to say it out loud.”
Large, fat tears run down my face as I break down in front of a piece of stone. The ground beneath my knees is cold and the air against my wet cheeks is freezing but it doesn’t matter. I am crying for my brother. Crying for the life he lost. Crying for the future he’ll never have. Crying for the dreams he’ll never see.