Page 41 of Lost Boy
Fallon stands up and reaches for the beige throw blanket draped over his gift, Joel helping to lift the other side straight up. Underneath appears to be a vintage record player but is completely modern and digital, with Bluetooth and the ability to stream music through the high-quality, built-in speaker system. I also know it cost fourteen hundred dollars and that Dad helped Joel get it to make Fallon’s birthday special. He was more than happy to do so.
Fallon swoops all his hair back, holding it on top of his head, his face open and honest, vulnerable. “I. . . Wow. Uncle Joel, Alejandro. Thank you.”
It’s more than he usually says, and Sofie is once again awesome at moving the night along with her energy and enthusiasm. “Here, open mine next!”
Fallon opens a small box wrapped in metallic blue wrapping paper, pulling out a gift card.
“It’s for the local music shop downtown. They have really cool clothes there too! A lot of vintage band tees. I think you’ll be able to find a bunch of good stuff. So, I went a little extra and got you a hundred-dollar gift card.”
“And after Sofie told me about the clothes they have there, I got you another gift card. So now you have two. For records and for some cool T-shirts. Happy birthday, Fallon,” I tell him, staring up from my seat.
“Thank you, guys,” he says simply, but Sofie beams from ear to ear.
“They serve coffee and do open mic nights on Saturdays. I go with Jamie and Cole sometimes. We don’t sing, but some of the girls do.”
“And I go a lot too! I'm going to be a barista at their events as soon as I’m old enough,” Sofie informs him proudly.
Fallon hums his approval, and she hands him another present. We go through this process several more times as Fallon opens various items like a new photo frame for his room, socks, a couple new video games I recommended to Joel, and a new Acadia Lake Prep hoodie I got him from the school store. Joel said Fallon’s uniforms will arrive tomorrow and to help him go through all the options. But I told him to mainly order button-ups and blazers. No one wears sweater vests.
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you all.” Fallon’s voice is slightly raspy, and he’s short for words again.
“Well, we’re not done. There’s a couple more, then we can finally enjoy Georgina’s special ice cream cookie.”
“Aye, lad. I only share me cookie on your birthdays.”
That fucking awkward pause happens again, and I’d swear she was blood-related to us, except I’m not Irish. At all.
A burst of giggles explodes from Sofie, and she presses a hand to her lips, attempting to stifle them.
“That’s. . .” More peals of laughter, pure joy tucked into every word as she chokes them out. “That’s what she said.”
“I suppose I asked for it there, didn’t I? Ye little brat,” Georgie teases with a warm smile, causing the skin around her eyes to crinkle.
“You walked right into that one,” Alejandro concurs. “No one could have saved you.”
Sofie laughs again, and so does everyone else. Except for Fallon. He’s chewing on his lip ring and picking at his nails, like he’s thinking about laughing, but maybe he can’t remember how.
Joel stands from his spot on the couch and claps his large hands together, making a noise louder than he probably meant to. “Sorry for that sonic boom,” he chuckles. “But let’s get back on track with presents. One second.”
I have no idea what else he’s going to get. I thought this was everything.
Joel returns with a black guitar case and a worn-out-looking white envelope.
He sets the case down on the coffee table and hands the letter to Fallon.
“This was your dad’s guitar. And he wrote that letter. Asked me to give it to you when you turned eighteen.”
Fallon’s trembling hand reaches out, but his face is blank, expressionless. He takes the paper from his uncle’s grasp as if on auto-pilot. Fallon slowly and carefully opens the envelope, slipping the notebook paper out.
He unfolds it, his eyes scanning the words and stopping after what’s probably just a few sentences. He glances up from the slightly crumpled paper, eyes locking onto mine as they swirl and storm with the deep emotions he normally keeps locked down. His face is usually an expressionless mask, but the pure agony shining through right now absolutely guts me.
“Fallon. . .” I whisper, unsure what I can do to help him. Maybe giving him this letter on his birthday wasn’t the best idea, even if it was his father’s wish. I glance at Joel and see the regret in his concerned gaze. He’s thinking the same thing. This was a mistake, which is made clearer when Fallon abruptly stands from the couch, not even opening the guitar case.
“I can’t,” is all he says, but the words rip from him in a way I’ve yet to hear, and it’s like a punch to my gut. He folds and stuffs the letter into his front pocket before he runs from the room, the back door slamming shut not even thirty seconds later.
The sound spurs me into action, and I jump from my seat, not wanting him to get far. He shouldn't be alone right now. He doesn’t even know the property or the lake and woods. I slip my shoes on and grab my letterman jacket.
“I should have known better,” Joel says in a defeated tone, but I know my dad and sister will handle his feelings. I just need to be there for Fallon. He has no one else right now, and I won’t let him pull away. If he needs to talk, I’m ready to listen. And if he just needs to cry, I’m ready to hold him. And if he wants to fight, I’m ready to let him rage against me.
