Life In Reverse(14)

“Yeah?”

The wrinkle in his cheek deepens. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

Inside the house, I don’t waste any time. I drop my purse on the kitchen table and open the basement door, taking the stairs down two at a time. The automatic sensor for the lights kicks on as my foot hits the last step.

And then I breathe.

This is my sanctuary. This is where I create. And this is where I escape. I love this space. Many years ago, my dad had the basement finished as a hangout spot for our family and friends. The room is warmed by soft track lighting overhead and plush carpeting below, and divided into two sections. One side boasts a generous L-shaped chocolate brown sofa with pillows in various patterns—matching of course. Pressed cushions where we spent hours lying about listening to music or watching movies. The distressed coffee table in the center holds evidence of spilled drinks and shoe scuffs, the warm tan walls memories of laughter and whispered conversation. Avery’s weathered mustard-yellow beanbag chair still sits propped in the corner. It messes up Mom’s design scheme but Avery refused to part with it. I think she does it on purpose.

My favorite area though, is the one on the opposite side. A long, rectangular table sits in front of a window looking out at the backyard. To the right of my work area are six shelves Dad built for me, lined with sculptures. A metal closet with sliding doors stands beside them and houses all of my clay—my lifeline. Some people do yoga. Some exercise. This is what I do. It’s the only thing that frees me.

I cross to the cabinet and secure a hunk of clay, setting it on the table before swiping the remote for the CD player. The one built into the wall—again, courtesy of Dad. Pressing play, Aerosmith’s “Dream On” fills the room, as does Zack lip-syncing it over a hundred times with his fake microphone and lopsided smile. That chestnut brown hair, same as mine, gelled up as he pretended to be some sort of rock God.

I’m glad I have these memories. As much as it hurts sometimes, it’s the one thing that still allows me to hold onto pieces of him—to bring him back whenever I want to—even if it’s only in my head.

My body won’t let me sit. Too much energy flows through my veins. Electricity buzzes its way around my insides, zapping me every time a thought takes shape.

I lean over the table and my fingers curl into the smooth clay, cool to the touch. As I sink my nails deep, I exhale, my feelings already beginning to leave their imprint. Somehow as I pinch and poke this incredible substance, it silences me, allowing me to exist in another world—one where my brother is still by my side.

My fingers continue to find purchase, molding and shaping, and the piece begins to take form. The music is everywhere and it overwhelms me, pounding in my ears, but still unable to block out the intensity of my own heartbeat.

Both hands start to shake. Grief comes out of nowhere and tramples my cheeks. I close my eyes, my vision too blurry to enable me to see. Pretty soon, the tremble in my hands won’t allow me to sculpt. I collapse onto the chair, putting my head down between my folded arms.

“Em?”

A hand on my shoulder makes me lift my head, but not before I pat my cheeks and not so gracefully wipe my runny nose.

“Oh, Em.” Avery pulls up a seat beside me and draws me in for a hug. She strokes her hand up and down my back, whispering calming words that get lost amidst the noise in my brain.

A few minutes pass before she lets me go but gathers both my hands in hers. Her eyes radiate her love for me and some of her own grief.

“I miss him so much. I can hardly stand it sometimes.” My breath gives way to a tiny hiccup. “I want him to mess up my hair in the morning again, or hear him singing at the top of his lungs in the shower. I….” Salt trails over my mouth and I lick the corner of my lips. “I want to look out the window and see him and Dad playing basketball together.”

“I know, Em. I miss him, too.” She tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “I also know it’s been harder for you because you guys were so close, while he and I… well, we just weren’t. I don’t know, we always seemed to rub each other the wrong way. Plus, I…,” she stares down at the floor, “I wanted that with you. That connection the two of you had.” Her gaze climbs to mine. “There were times when I felt like an outsider, when all I wanted was to be on the inside. But… I did love him. I really did.” She tries to shrug it off, as always, but I won’t have it.

“Oh, Avery. I wish you had told me sooner. And I’m sorry you felt that way. But you have to know he loved you, very much.” I put all my energy into a smile that I hope will comfort her. “And I love you very much.”

She nods her head. That rare display of emotion fading away with her stoic expression, and I find it difficult to say anything else. She gestures with her chin toward my slab of clay. “What was that going to be?”

I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “I have no idea. I’ve lost my mojo.”

A mischievous sparkle lights her eyes. “I know a way you can get it back. Let’s do some baking. We’ll go shopping and get some ice cream and ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies. Dad is taking Mom out for a while so it’ll just be us for dinner anyway.”

“Because she had a hard day.” I sigh. “I’m worried about her, Ave. She’s still so upset and I know she tries to keep herself busy to get through it.” I tug at the corner of my lip. “You know how difficult graduation was for her, and now this. Do you think we should wait longer before we move to New York? I don’t know.” I let out another anxious breath. “Maybe we can suggest she start going to her group again?”