Page 91 of Back To You

“Exactly,” Bennett replies as he opens his door.

Realization hits me. His words about life and chasing after what we want no matter what others say sink in. It all makes sense; why he quit law school, why he doesn’t care about the horrible things Dad said to him, why he is doing what he wants anyway.

I want to tell him that I get it, that I understand, that I’m not some naive 17-year old who can’t wrap my head around going against our father.

I want him to stay in the car, to say more, to tell me—no, teach me—how to be just like him.

I want to tell him that he’s already taught me so much, and I need him to stick around forever so I never know what life is like without him.

I need to tell him I am so proud to be his brother.

But I can’t.

Because one second he’s there, and the next he’s gone.

And I’m staring at my bedroom ceiling.

***

It’s been a week since Bennett died.

And today is his funeral.

It’s the first time I’ll be leaving my apartment since we got home from the hospital.

The past seven days have been a blur, for more reasons than one.

I crave the moment of bliss when I wake up, but it’s been harder and harder to fall asleep, let alone stay asleep. The nightmares started a few days ago, so I’m constantly trying to decide between the lesser of two evils—staying awake and living with the loss of my brother, or falling asleep and reliving the moment I found out he died.

Either way, it got me out of bed, the need to do something to distract myself from being too strong.

When Annie is gone at rotations during the day, Eddie, Emmett, Mia, or Drew are here. Mia scared the shit out of me when I walked out of the bedroom and found her on the couch. It was the first time I got out of bed since Eddie and Emmett carried me there.

We didn’t say anything to each other—she didn’t try to ask me how I was doing or tell me how everything was going to be okay. She just kept watching TV, even as I brushed my teeth and showered—Rosie never leaving my side.

Even when I went to my bedroom to get dressed and chugged the cold water that was on my nightstand. Even when I scarfed down the granola bar that was there next to my water bottle, and the rest of the box of them in the kitchen.

Not even when I opened the cabinet above my fridge, the bottle of whiskey looking like it could solve all of my problems.

Not even when I turned around to see if she was watching me, and our eyes met.

She didn’t say anything as she patted the spot next to her on the couch with a knowing look on her face—free of judgment but full of concern—and I closed the cabinet and sat down next to her, empty-handed, Rosie laying at our feet.

Mia didn’t say a word as I wiped the tears forming in my eyes—she just reached out and grabbed my arm, giving it a squeeze, reminding me that she was there.

Emmett stopped by at one point that day with some pre-made meals Drew made—our afternoon and evening together being the same as my morning with Mia—and Mia left shortly after he arrived. I quickly caught on to the fact that Annie probably didn’t want me to be alone.

And rightfully so.

I don’t want to know what I would’ve let myself do if I was alone when I woke up that Monday morning, but I’m grateful to Annie and my friends that I wasn’t.

When Annie got home that night, Emmett left, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything to her. I felt like I should voice these feelings—say them out loud—but it felt too intimidating, too difficult, too impossible, to form the words.

But just like Mia and Emmett, Annie didn’t push me. She just set down her things and walked over to the couch, pulling herself into my lap and held me tightly, somehow knowing exactly what I needed.

The next few days looked the same—I was able to get out of bed, and that in itself was a feat. Every day, it tookall I had to push the comforter off and swing my legs over the edge. It took all my energy to push myself up and stand.

But it was slightly easier knowing that my friends and my Annie girl never expected more from me.

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