Page 8 of The Path To Us

“I called an ambulance but…”

“But what?” I ask, even though I know what he’s about to say. I need to hear the words but I don’t want to. Need to hear the words that my little brother…

“He didn’t make it. They think it was a ruptured brain aneurysm. He just… fuck me, Beau. He just died. Just like that. What the hell?”

“I don’t understand. Why would he have an aneurysm? Was he sick?” I know my question is stupid but right now logic isn’t really something I have much of.

He vapes again and I want to scream at him to stop that shit before he has a problem, too. He started vaping to help him quit smoking last year and so far, he hasn’t touched cigarettes. Unfortunately, he’s now addicted to vaping and I’m not sure which one is better or worse. “That’s the thing. No warning. Aside from his migraine.”

“Shit. I just…” I feel like I’m going to throw up. Christopher is — was — only two years younger than me. Max being the youngest of us, another two years younger than Chris. He was the perfect middle child. Always making sure we were both happy. He’d be my best friend one year and Max’s the next. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“That’d be good.”

“How’s Zoey?” I ask, knowing my five-year-old niece must be devastated.

Max is silent for a few beats before responding. “Right now, I think she’s numb to it all. I mean, we just told her five minutes ago. She’s here with us now at the hospital. Mom, Dad, and me, I mean. Addy’s here, too.”

The sound of Addy’s name tugs on my heart. And not in a gentle way. No, this is a reminder of what could have been if I hadn’t had my head stuck so far up my ass. It’s also a reminder of what will never be mine.

“Beau? You with me?” I hear Max’s voice through the line again. In the background I hear his door shut and it sounds like he’s walking. Back to the hospital, I assume.

“I’m here,” I tell him quietly. “I gotta go. Need to call some people and let them know I’m going to be gone for the foreseeable future. I’ll be home soon.”

“Drive safely, brother. Just come to Mom and Dad’s and stay there, okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, absentmindedly. I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to other than getting to the people who need me most.

“Beau? You okay to drive?”

“I am. I just… what the hell, Max?” I ask, pressing a thumb and finger to my eyes.

“I don’t know, man. Just get here. We need you. All of us,” he says.

“Yeah, see you soon. I love you, Max.”

“Love you, Beau.”

We hang up and tears spill down my cheeks and I sniffle. Before I can stop myself, I’m full on crying, not even caring. My brother is gone. Forever. When was the last time I spoke with him and why can’t I remember? Two days ago? No, he called me again last night around nine to let me know that he’d gotten it all squared away to have me coach.

My head is swimming, feeling more out of it than ever before. I’ve heard of people saying they’ve had out-of-body experiences, and for the first time, I understand it.

After I’ve gotten myself together, I call Grant to explain the situation. He tells me not to worry about a thing and that he’ll take care of everything.

I barely remember the drive to my house and when I walk in the door, I drop into my recliner in the living room and let the weight of my mother’s phone call and brother’s words wash over me. I’ve been blessed in that I’ve never had to say goodbye to someone I’m close with so navigating this is completely foreign territory to me.

It’s also in my nature to fix things and I don’t know how to fix this. Not for my parents or my brother or my niece Zoey. None of it makes sense. Chris was perfectly healthy. He would work out in the high school weight room after school almost every day and the students would challenge him to different workouts. He didn’t drink alcohol. Didn’t smoke. It makes no sense and I’m having a really hard time wrapping my brain around how this could be happening.

The last thing I want to do is face this new reality, but Max is right. I need to be there for my family. Thirty minutes later, my pickup is loaded up with everything I can think of that I’ll need, including a suit. I may or may not have thrown it into the back seat angrily. I point my pickup in the direction of home, with far too many thoughts to keep me company.

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