Page 39 of Always Been You
When I walk back toward the bedroom, I pause just before the doorway. She hasn’t moved from the bed. She’s lying back, staring at the ceiling, her brows furrowed like she’s thinking too hard, lost in her own world.
I leave her to it and head into the guest room, which currently serves as a storage space. Everything from the old house and London has been brought here, but I haven’t had the will to sort through it yet. It’s easier to leave things boxed up, untouched.
I weave through the stacks and open a box near the center of the room. Inside, I find albums and old report cards. Memories, packed away. I pull out the first album and pause, the weight of it settling in my hands.
I really lucked out in the parent's department. As their only child, I got all the love and attention they had to give. There wasn’t a single event they missed—school plays, football games, graduations. I had the kind of childhood people envy. And yet, to think… they died because of an event I insisted on.
My chest tightens at the thought. The guilt never really goes away. It gnaws at me, whispering that I’m the reason they parked that damn car in the first place. But beneath the guilt, there’s something darker—a deep-rooted hunger to do unto my uncle what he did to them.
I sigh and flip open the album, careful with the old, worn pages. The first photo stops me cold. It’s my dad, kneeling on one knee, the ground littered with autumn leaves. My mom stands in front of him, her hand covering her mouth, surprise and joy radiating from her face. I can almost hear the echo of their laughter.
I smile despite myself. My dad used to tell me that his proposal was spectacular, not because it was flashy but because he knew my mom’s heart. He picked her favorite season—autumn—and her favorite place in the world: our Louisville park. That park became their place. Their anniversaries, their picnics, their little celebrations. And when I came along, it became mine too. I can’t count the number of times we spent there as a family, wrapped up in a kind of happiness I didn’t know to treasure until it was gone.
“I miss you guys so much,” I whisper, the words barely audible.
I shake my head, push the memories back where they belong, and turn the page. One photo leads to another, each one tugging at me a little harder than the last. Eventually, the weight of it all gets the better of me. I don’t remember closing my eyes, but somewhere between one page and the next, I fall asleep.
Chapter Eighteen
Eddie
I’m sitting in the back seat of my dad’s car with my mom, and she’s butchering Brad Paisley and Alison’s Whiskey Lullaby. I sigh for the tenth time when she removes my earphones so I can hear her sing.
“Mom, really.”
“Come on, it’s your birthday. You wanted us to go.. where was it again?” She asks my dad, who smiles and responds to her. “Camping outside of Louisville,” I shake my head at them.
“I wanted a change of scenery with everyone,” I say.
“By everyone, he means one of the twins whose name we are not mentioning,” my mom says with a laugh.
"Oh, please, you both think you can hide something from me. I know he likes the Dua girl,” my dad teases, his tone playful but pointed.
My mom fake gasps when I know she definitely told Dad about my crush on Lawliss after I told her. Those two have no secret between them so I was sure telling Mum meant telling Dad.
“Jeez… Can’t we.. you know, have some..” My mum raises a brow in the challenge and I sigh. “forget it,” I say and plug my earphone back into my ear. ” The next thing I notice is my mum visibly shaken with her hand tight on me. My eyes snap open and I plug the earphones immediately.
“What is it?” I ask my mom, who just shakes her head and looks at my dad, who does the same. My heartbeat picks up and I naturally realize something is wrong.
“What's wrong, Dad?”
“The brakes….. I can’t feel the brakes." My heart sinks as I hold onto my mom. Trying to comfort her and myself, knowing very well I’m a wreck.
“It’ll be fine." My mom is trying to comfort me but the fog ahead says it will be anything but fine.
The car swerves violently to the left, and my mother’s grip tightens around me. I hear the screech of tires—metal scraping asphalt—and my father’s frantic voice shouting, “Hold on!” before the car tilts, almost weightless for a split second. My heart slams into my ribs.
Then we roll.
The world flips upside down in slow motion as the car somersaults. Glass shatters around us, shards spinning like jagged stars. My body jerks against the seatbelt, my mother’s arms instinctively shielding me as the cabin fills with the sound of screaming metal. I catch glimpses of the blur of trees outside the window as the car tumbles off the road and my father….. My father’s hands grip the steering wheel, his knuckles bone-white, flecked with shards of glass, blood trailing in thin lines down his forearms. His eyes are wild and desperate, locked on the rearview mirror, searching for me through the chaos, as though willing this nightmare to stop.
Thud.
Crash.
Thud.
Finally, we land and for a brief second, there’s only silence.
