Page 69 of Four Letter Feelings

Chapter 27

Back at his parents’ house after the funeral, Jeremy kicked off his dress shoes and changed into something more comfortable. As he looked around his bedroom, he realized that he’d have to look into his parents’ wills in more detail to see what they wanted him to do with the house. His stomach fell at the idea that he’d have to sell it, and he resolved to do whatever he could to ensure he got to keep it.

Making his way downstairs he bumped into Cindy, Chris and Blake arriving back with bags of food from the local mom and pop restaurant. “I was going to cook,” she explained. “But…” she trailed off.

“It’s ok, I understand and I appreciate you being so thoughtful. I’m not sure I’m ready to have another mom cooking in that kitchen,” he added quietly.

“I thought as much. You might never be, and that’s ok. But I wanted to make sure we all ate something today and Barb in church said that Chuck and Maeve’s is the best place to grab some food to take home. In fact, they wouldn’t even let me pay for it. They sent their love and said your parents will be sorely missed in the community. They were well loved 'round these parts, Jer.”

Jer chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded, demanding that the threatening tears he felt prickling stay where they were. He shook his head as though to clear the impending tears, swallowed down the lump in his throat and offered to help carry the bags of food she and the others were holding.

“What’s that smell?” AJ asked, as he came out of the living room to find the group standing around with bags.

“Chow time,” Jeremy grinned, pointing to the dining room with his chin. “Let’s eat while it’s still hot and can someone remind me to send Maeve some flowers for all this food?”

The lump was back in his throat as he pulled out cartons and tubs of food from the bags and laid them out on the counter. Maeve and Chuck had sent enough food to feed everyone, for days, and they’d included a giant tub of his mom’s favorite chicken enchilada soup. This was his life now. In the weeks following his parents’ death he had become acutely aware of every little nuance of their lives. When he smelled something, or heard something familiar that reminded him of his parents, his chest constricted and his mouth turned dry. He’d picked up the phone countless times and either texted or called them, he’d listened to their voicemails just to hear their voices and he’d cried into his pillow in the middle of the night.

This was his life now.

Trying to piece together what was left of his life and find a way through the fog of grief. The local community had raised over $1,500 and counting for the homeless shelter his mom volunteered at when Jeremy asked for donations in lieu of flowers. He knew she would have liked that, something good and hopeful coming out of something so tragic. He’d been followed on campus by reporters wanting ‘his side’ of the story. He had no idea how they’d found him, but despite repeated requests for them to leave him alone, campus security had to get involved and escort them outside the grounds. It took a week, but eventually they gave up and he thought he was free of their annoyance. Then the phone calls started. Reporters still wanted him to give an interview about his parents’ deaths, and he had broken his phone when he hung up on them in a rage and flung his phone at the wall. He’d told the reporters that this wasn’t a front-page headline to him, it was his parents, his family, his whole world. They were real people, good people and now they were gone because of a senseless act of violence. He didn’t want to sensationalize that. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings. The whole country knew about the shooting and no amount of newspaper articles about it would change that fact, or even stop the next one. “There’s always going to be another crazy person fueled by hatred out there doing harm,” he’d said. The next day, his quote was the headline on the cover of a national newspaper next to his picture and a piece about Jeremy, the orphan boy. He’d seen red. He’d punched the wall, though luckily hadn’t broken anything. Sitting in his mother’s kitchen eating her favorite soup, the draw of ‘home’ felt strong, though he knew if he moved back to Canada to live in his parents’ house, it would hurt even more than trying to push forward and follow his dreams. He also knew, deep down, that his parents wouldn’t want him to stop his own life to come back to their house and mourn his life away, no matter how tempting it might be.

“Jeremy?”

He jumped, dropping his spoon which clanged against the ceramic bowl causing soup to splash over the side of the bowl and onto the table.

“Shit, Jer. I’m so sorry!” Ana jumped up and grabbed a napkin, dabbing it around the bottom of his bowl on the table.

“It’s ok,” he flashed her a half-smile. “I was miles away.”

“That’s ok,” she squeezed his shoulder gently and he bristled at the sympathetic way she was dealing with him, the pity that was plain to see across her face, the softness with which she spoke.

“You don’t need to handle me with kid gloves, Ana,” he snapped, standing up from the table and storming out of the room leaving everyone open-mouthed and staring after him. He knew she was just being kind, he knew that their banter and sarcastic exchanges wouldn’t be gone forever, but he just hated the fact that everyone was treating him so differently. Except, everything was different and he was pretty fucking mad about that fact and he didn’t know what to do with that.

This was his life now.

It wasn’t long before someone knocked on his bedroom door. He felt guilty about snapping at Ana, but also knew that he wasn’t done. This wasn’t about her, this was about him. He had felt irritation rumbling inside of him since the day his parents had died. At first, he’d been able to side-step it, but as the last few weeks had progressed, the agitation grew. He knew from casually searching on Google, and the therapist he’d been avoiding, that anger was a stage of grief. She’d tried to call him but he’d ignored her calls. “You need to process this, Jeremy,” she’d said to his voicemail. “Please call me,” she implored.

He expected to see Cindy at his door, soup in-hand, insisting he finish his lunch, or AJ to yell at him for being a monumental dick to his sister, but as the door opened, he realized Ana had followed him upstairs herself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, running his hands through his hair, lip quivering.

She hurried towards him and put the steaming mug of coffee she was carrying next to him on the bedside cabinet and crouched down in front of him.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she started, lifting his chin so she could look into his tearful eyes. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, Jer. I really can’t.” She pulled him into a hug and despite resisting for a moment he gave in and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into her shoulder.

“I don’t know how to live without them here,” he mumbled. “I don’t know how to be here, in this house, without them. Without Dad’s music playing while he’s out in the garage tinkering with something Mom told him to leave well alone, or without the smell of something cooking or cooling in the kitchen. I don’t know how to be a responsible adult, Ana.” He pushed back and gave her a lopsided, teary smile. “I know that might come as a shock to you, but it’s true. I don’t know how to be an adulty adult. It terrifies me. How am I supposed to be ok without my mom and dad?”

“Oh Jer!” She grabbed him into another hug and squeezed him tightly. Despite their banter and picking on each other, he’d grown fond of his best friend’s younger sister, she was kind and caring. “I don’t know. I don’t have an answer for you. It’s not supposed to be like this. It really isn’t. But I do know that we won’t abandon you and we’re all here for you. I know it’s not the same and I know it’s little consolation, but we are and we’ll help you walk through this. Or crawl if you have to. Whatever it takes, it’s just got to be forward motion, ok? You can lay on the dirt, but you can’t stay there.”

Jeremy wiped his tears and tilted his head.

“What? What’s that weird look for?”

“I just dunno when you became more sensible than Pim and me. It’s mildly concerning, dude.”

She giggled softly. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it, dude. I plan to have my coming-of-age rebellion at some point and I’ll expect nothing but your complete support.”

“And complicity.” He grinned.

---