Secondhand Garagyre

Prologue

PAISLEY

The month of June .

I’m numb.

That’s the only word I have to describe how it feels to watch your twin’s casket lower into the ground in front of you.

It’s a rather nice casket…if one cares about things like that.

I don’t.

I want my brother back.

My eyes drift over to my parents.

Their faces are grief stricken with arms wrapped around one another, desperately clinging together, as if they were terrified to let go, lest they lose what little composure they have left. A parent isn’t supposed to bury their child. It goes against the natural order of things.

After learning of Patrick’s death, both of my parents have unraveled, not that I blame them. The other half of my soul is missing, so I , more than most, understand their pain.

I’m exhausted. After the wreck, being hospitalized for several minor injuries, learning of my brother’s death, then taking charge in making all the arrangements so my parents didn’t have to… I don’t have anything left to give to anyone. That includes the ornate casket my brother is ensconced within, slowly fading from sight with every shower of soil the backhoe pushes into the once-vacant hole deep within the silent embrace of the earth.

Movement around me signals the departure of the majority of Patrick’s funeral attendees. My brother is a well-liked member of the community, so the church we have his funeral services at is so full, it is standing room only. Most everyone has followed along in the funeral procession to the graveside services as well, but that’s done, and they’re all leaving. I guess none of them could stomach watching Patrick’s grave being filled with dirt.

Don’t they know operators are paid by the hour?

I scoff to myself as my eyes dart around the dispersing crowd.

Cowards .

They’re all going back to their regularly scheduled programming, as they aren’t the ones who have a loved one ripped from their lives. Patrick is but a blip on the radar screen of their lives. Myself , my parents, a few of Patrick’s close friends, and I are the only ones who will truly feel the absence of his loss.

A flash of gold out of the corner of my eye causes my body to tense, and I sneer at the stereotypical frat boy who has stared me down the entire time we’ve been at the cemetery. He cuts a tall, handsome figure as he makes his approach. The expression “beauty is only skin deep,” strikes true with this person.

“ Paisley , you look well. My deepest condolences for your loss.”

Shock holds me immobile for a few seconds, as the smooth baritone relaying the words slides over me. The sheer audacity that this man attended Patrick’s funeral is galling. Let alone having the nerve to approach and speak to me.

How dare he?!

My parents are standing right there!

“ I have absolutely nothing to say to you. Leave . Now ,” I bite out. My words are harsh and broken.

Piercings crystal-blue eyes narrow slightly before his face softens in a facsimile of what compassion is supposed to look like. “ Have you given any thought to my proposal?” he asks, voice deceptively kind. Oh … so very false, but I know better.

Years before, I received a warning about this danger.

Indignation filled me as his words registered in my beleaguered mind. “ How dare you? How dare you speak to me at all, let alone ask me if I’ve given any thought to your proposal!” I sneer before continuing, “ Allow me to be perfectly clear. I will never marry you. Ever . That is my final answer, so I suggest you make your departure along with all our other well-wishers .”

“ Ah , I can see that you need time. That’s entirely understandable, considering the circumstances,” he states loftily before nodding his acknowledgement at my parents. As he turns to leave, he calls out over his shoulder, not even bothering to break stride as he walks away.

“ I suggest you reconsider my proposal; it would be unwise not to.”

Soft hands abruptly grab hold of one of mine, pulling me around to meet the worried, tear-streaked face of my mother.

“ Honey , what is all that about?” she tentatively asks, golden-brown eyes flecked with green and blue flecks, the same eyes I see in the mirror, reflecting concern as she looks from me to the figure moving towards his fancy car, before looking up at my father to gauge his response.

“ Nothing , Mom . It’s absolutely nothing.”