Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
SAM
When I got to my mom’s house yesterday, Jacob had already called her to tell her he wasn’t feeling well and that he wasn’t coming. Quinn and I drove around the block a few times to cool off before going in. I needed it more than he did. I think he’s so used to being disappointed by Joel at this point that he's learned to get over it. I, on the other hand, still hold on to the idea that my dad can change, even though deep down, I know he won’t.
I spent an hour or so talking with my mom about what went down at Dad’s and begging her not to drive over there to yell at him. That would help no one in this situation, especially Jacob. Because then my dad would just call him and tell him he's a whiny baby for running and telling our Mom. He’s way too predictable at this point, and all I could do was try to convince her to continue with dinner so we could enjoy the rest of our evening.
I wanted to text Louisa all night, but my mom kept asking if I was texting Jacob and asking if he was coming over. I didn’t want to get into the whole Louisa thing with her, especially this early on, so I just told Louisa I had to go. My mom is a hopeless romantic who is constantly confused about why her perfect boys are all still single. She seems to forget that getting married in her early 20s didn’t really work out for her and that maybe her sons don’t want to repeat her mistakes. I’ll never understand what she saw in him or how she stayed married to him for as long as she did.
The rest of the evening was uneventful. Quinn was the life of the party, as usual. He loves being the entertainment; that’s why instead of helping me with snow removal in the winter, he DJs at clubs and parties for rich people. If you looked at him, you’d see the DJ side of him, with his bleach-blonde hair and stylish clothes. What you might not see is the guy who does physical labor and loves to get dirty. He’s multifaceted, as he will gladly tell you.
Jacob never showed up. But I sent him a text to make sure he was okay.
Sam
Sorry Joel was a total dick to you tonight. If you’re up for coming over to Mom’s, Aunt Janet made her pecan pie. I know it’s your favorite.
He never responded, but I’m sure he’s turned off his phone and is ignoring everyone for the rest of the night.
It’s the morning after Thanksgiving, and I’m up early working on drywalling the master bedroom. Joel was right; these projects are taking a lot longer than they should. I’ve made good progress with the busy season over, but the snow is coming. When that happens, I’ll get busy again, and these projects will have to be put on hold.
I don’t hear my phone vibrating on the table at first over the sound of my drill. I take off my gloves and pick it up to see that it’s a call from an unknown number. I never usually answer calls from numbers I don’t have saved in my contacts, but some delusional part of me thinks it might be Lou calling from B’s phone or something. I haven’t texted her this morning since I got up so early and didn’t want to wake her.
I think twice about it and realize how stupid that is. If she didn’t have her phone on her, she wouldn’t have my number. And why would she call instead of text? I put the phone back on the table, waiting for it to stop ringing. It does. But then, a few seconds later, it vibrates again. I pick it up and see it’s the same number as before.
Weird.
Maybe someone accidentally gave a client my personal cell number instead of my work one.
I answer and put the phone up to my ear. “Hello.”
“Hello, is this Samuel Carlyle?” It’s a woman’s voice, but not one I recognize. Definitely not Lou’s.
“That’s me.”
“Sam, my name is Officer Cindee O’Connell. You were listed as your brother’s emergency contact. I’m so sorry to tell you that Jacob was found….”
There’s a blaring, high-pitched ringing in my ears, and I don’t catch the rest of what she says, but I don’t need to. A sinking feeling takes over my body. My stomach is in knots. I can’t feel my hands. Anger builds in my core. I can’t breathe.
Her voice cuts through the ringing for a second. “Sam, did you hear me?”
I scream at the top of my lungs, my throat shredding, and I throw my phone at the unfinished wall as hard as I can. I hear it crack, and then everything goes black. A searing pain shoots through my knees and palms, and I realize I’m on the ground.
My face is wet, and I know I’m crying, but I can’t process it. All I can think is that this can’t be happening.
“No. No. NO. NO! NOOOO!”
I slam my fist into the wood floor, and a sensation shoots up my arm that I process as pain, but I barely feel it.
LOUISA
It’s been two days since Thanksgiving. B and I drove back to the city this morning. Sam hasn’t texted me back and I’m starting to worry that my telling him I wanted him to ask me on a second date was too bold. Did I scare him away?
I talked to B about it, and she said I should just text him, but I’m scared. I don’t want to seem too clingy. But I’m dying to know what’s going on.
After several drafts, I finally get one approved by B. I send the text, but he doesn’t respond till an hour later. That was the longest hour of my life.
Lou
I guess I can be the one to ask you on a second date; this is the 21st century, after all. Want to grab a drink sometime this week?
Sam
Hey, sorry I’ve been silent the last couple of days. I’ve had some family stuff come up and my phone broke. I’m really sorry, but I don’t think right now is a good time for me to be dating. It was really nice getting to know you, though .
What just happened? Did I just get dumped by someone I wasn’t even dating? I can’t decide if this is better or worse than being ghosted.
I’m sick to my stomach. I’m embarrassed.
“B…I think he just ended things with me?”
“What?” she shouts from the other room. In a matter of seconds, she’s in my room with a confused look on her face. “He what?”
I hold out my phone to her. “You read it. He doesn’t want to see me anymore.”
She plops on my bed and grabs my phone. Pepin trots in behind her and jumps up on the bed. He spins in a couple of circles before dropping down and laying his head in my lap. How does he always know when I need him?
“Yeah, he is definitely ending things.”
My eyes fill up with tears. “That’s not what you’re supposed to say.”
She looks up from my phone with pity in her eyes. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings; I’m just telling you what’s going on. This shit happens, Lou.”
I look up at the ceiling, begging my tears to go away so one doesn’t fall. My mom always told me that if a tear doesn’t fall, it doesn’t count as crying. She mostly says that when we tease her for tearing up at every movie, even comedies. I think that rule applies here as well.
“I will not cry over another boy.”
“That’s my girl!” B slaps me on the shoulder, causing one of the tears to fall out of the outer corner of my eye and down to my ear. Damn it.
I lower my chin and look at her. I’m sure I look pathetic right now, but I can’t help it. I really liked him.
“You know what we’re going to do? I’m going to run to the store and get some supplies for a girl’s night.” She hops off the bed and runs out of my room. “I’ll be back soon! Pick out a few movies while I’m gone.”
Once I hear the front door slam shut and the lock click, I finally blink and let the rest of the tears fall down my face.
What did I do wrong? I thought everything was going really well. There’s no way that some family drama could be so big he can’t go grab a drink with me, right? And if something bad happened, he would have said so. No, I’m sure he’s just making excuses, trying not to hurt my feelings.
I stroke the top of Pepin’s head and scratch behind his ear. “Why do men suck so much, Pep? And why do I even bother crying over them anymore?”
I look down at my phone and reread his message again. “You know what, fuck him. I’m not even going to respond.” I lock my phone and shut it in my nightstand. If anyone important tries to get a hold of me, they can contact B to get to me.
B moved her mattress into the living room and brought out every pillow and blanket we own. When she ran to the store, she brought back ice cream, Oreos, chips with dip, my favorite candies, and several bottles of wine. I know I’m going to throw up later, but I don’t care.
It’s nearly 4am, and we’re on the 4th Harry Potter movie, my favorite one. I had picked out some rom-coms, but B vetoed those and said tonight is not about boys. I’m glad she did that because I’ve barely thought about Sam. It may be the 2 bottles of wine talking, but I think I’m already over it.
I am perfectly fine without a man. Not like Sam was even “mine” to begin with. I just need to keep reminding myself that I wanted to enjoy being single, and now I have that chance again.
I pull out my phone and turn the brightness all the way down. I open the Messages app and scroll until I find Matt. The last time I saw him was a month ago at his Halloween party.
Lou
Hi
Matt
Hello, princess.
What are you doing up so late?
Lou
Harry Potter marathon with my sister.
What are you doing up?
Matt
I’m always up this late on Saturdays.
Lou
Do you want to grab a drink sometime soon?
Matt
I’m free on Thursday.
Lou
Perfect, I am too. You can pick the place.
Matt
I’ll pick you up around 7.
Lou
See you then.
SAM
It’s been a week since Thanksgiving, and today is Jacob’s funeral. The first few days were a complete blur. If I’m being honest, I didn’t even think about Lou before she texted me. When I saw her message, a flood of thoughts and emotions took over me.
I so badly wanted to confide in her and tell her everything. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that wouldn’t be fair to her. We’d only been talking for less than a month at that point, and this was way too heavy. I knew I would need time to heal before I got back to my old self. She deserves the best version of someone who can give her their all. Not someone who is grieving, going to therapy, and taking sleeping pills every night to cope with nightmares.
It’s strange how a person can be so tired yet restless at the same time. I haven’t had the energy to work on any of my projects, let alone talk to anyone. And yet, at night, I can’t fall asleep because every time I close my eyes, I see Jacob. I see his face through the car window. I see how broken he was, waiting for someone to grab him and pull him out of the darkness he was in.
I saw the look on his face, and I did nothing. Nothing. I just let him drive away. I should have forced him to come to Mom’s. I should have put him in my car and drove him there myself. I should have gone and checked on him when he didn’t respond to my text. I should have checked on him when he was distancing himself from us all those months prior. I should have gone over to his apartment and hung out with him when he continuously bailed on plans.
My therapist says it’s not healthy or productive to think about all the things I could have or should have done. But I can’t help it. I’m his brother. He needed me. And I did nothing.
I feel my mom’s hand on my arm, and I look down to see that I have completely destroyed the program I was holding. I throw it to the side and bury my face in my hands as I rest my elbows on my knees. I haven’t been listening to a word that’s being said. This priest didn’t know Jacob, so what could he possibly have to say about his life other than all the clichés?
I’m tired of people telling me how sorry they are for my loss. Don’t feel sorry for me; feel sorry for Jacob. Feel sorry that he felt so helpless and alone that he thought complete, dark nothingness was better than being in this world.
At the prayer service last night, some of his classmates and professors came up to my mother and offered their condolences. Where the fuck were they when Jacob needed them? They saw him every day. How could no one notice? Where was the school when he reached out for guidance or asked for extensions?
In the middle of his program, when I still saw Jacob regularly, he always used to tell me how shitty it was there. How everyone was in it for themselves, and everyone was always gatekeeping their secrets to success. He told me how the staff was condescending and always made the students feel stupid in the clinic for not knowing things. He said the patients were often rude to him and would blame him for their problems. He even told me once that there is a high suicide rate among dentists. I guess that's what happens when the general consensus is that everyone hates going to your office, and no one views you as a real doctor.
Fuck, I should have seen it! How could I have been so self-centered that I didn’t hear his cry for help? How could I have given my dad grace when he was constantly belittling Jacob and beating up on him?
Speaking of Joel, he’s been a total prick this whole week. Barely speaks to anyone except to pay for things. And he thinks just because it’s his wallet getting tapped into, he gets to make all the decisions. Fuck that. He probably knows as little about Jacob as this priest does.
Quinn and I tried to talk our mother out of doing the whole church thing. Jacob hated all this stuff. But in the end, the funeral is for the living, not the dead. And our mother needed this. She needed all the bells and whistles to make it real.
If anyone is in more denial than me, it’s our mom. With the little energy I have these days, I’ve been taking care of her. She never remarried, so she lives alone, which meant that Quinn and I have been staying with her since last Friday. The first night, when I was lying awake in bed, I heard her crying hysterically in her room. I went in there to check on her and ended up just holding her in her bed, waiting for her to cry herself to sleep. Quinn came in after an hour and joined us. I felt like a kid again, going to sleep in my parents’ room when I had a nightmare. Except this time, the nightmare is real, and my mom can’t be the brave one protecting me.
The funeral wraps up, and I only notice because everyone around me stands to walk out. My mom picks up the urn off of the pedestal full of flowers and turns to walk down the aisle, Quinn and I on each side of her.
Joel and Holly walk behind us. I still can’t believe he brought her and let her sit in the front row with the family. Hell, Denise deserves a spot up there more than she does. But in her defense, she seems very uncomfortable with this whole thing and is probably going to leave him once he’s done grieving. Don’t worry, Holly, that won’t be long.
Once we're at the back of the church, the priest tells us to head down to the reception hall for the meal. Who started that tradition? For most grieving people, the last thing they want to do is eat cold deli sandwiches in a cold church basement. At least, that’s how Quinn and I feel. Once our mom is distracted by friends telling her what an amazing person Jacob was, he and I dip out the back door.
The church is attached to our old elementary school, so there’s a playground on the other side of the building. I shrug off my jacket and set it on the pavement. It’s chilly out, but I can’t stand to have that thing on for another second. The last time I wore it was at my grandpa’s funeral. It just reminds me of death and sadness. I might burn it after this.
I didn’t notice that Quinn grabbed a basketball out of a bin by the door on our way out. He tosses it to me, and I shoot it in the hoop a few feet away. We continue this for a while, taking turns shooting and not saying anything to each other. He’s rarely silent, but when he is, I know not to push him.
“Have you talked to that girl again? The one with the dog?”
“No, I actually ended things with her on Saturday.”
He stops mid-shot and puts the ball down between his arm and hip. “What happened? I thought you really liked her?”
“This happened.” I spread my arms wide and gesture to the church.
“I don’t get it.”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t a great way to start off a relationship. Dead brothers aren’t very romantic.”
“Whatever. Good luck getting someone as good-looking as her to go out with you again.”
That actually makes me laugh. “Ouch.”
He smiles back at me and chucks the ball hard at my stomach. Luckily, I catch it, but it still takes a little wind out of me .
“Sadly, I don’t think I’ll get that lucky again.”
“Boys, what are you doing out here? It’s freezing.” We look behind us to find our mom poking her head out of the door. “Please get back inside. There are people asking for you.”
I look to Quinn, hoping he’ll tell her off so we can stay out here, but instead, he shrugs. “We’ll be right there.”
I roll my eyes at him even though I know we should go inside, if not for everyone else, then at least for our mom.
As we talk to everyone there, all I can think about is how exhausted I am. How much I want to go back to my own home and curl up in my bed. As much as I want to be alone right now, having someone to go home with to support me would be comforting. The thought makes my heart ache, knowing I’ll be going back to an empty house.
On our way out, I spot my dad talking with someone I don’t know. I overhear him telling them, “Jacob and I were really close. It’s sad he never found the strength to reach out to me for help.”
I snap. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Everyone looks over at me, shocked by what just came out of my mouth.
Joel is frozen, likely afraid I’ll call him out on his bullshit in front of other people. And he should be afraid; I’m done playing the nice guy.
"Sam, don't talk to me like that. I know you're sad but–"
“You didn’t know shit about Jacob, and you are literally the last person he would have ever gone to for help.”
His eyes get big, and I can tell he’s pissed. “Sam, I think you need to step out for a moment and collect yourself.”
“I can’t stand by and listen to you pretend you were a perfect dad who cared about his kids. Because you were awful, especially to Jacob. And maybe if you hadn’t been such an ass to Jacob all the time, he’d be here to tell you this himself.” I swallow and take a second to question what I’m about to say. No, he deserves this. “Fuck you, Joel. I tried to make peace between all of us for years, but I'm done. You’re never going to change.” I pause again, my breathing ragged and heavy. He just stares at me with a smug look on his face. “I never want to see you again.”
I don’t hear him try to make things right with me as I walk out, because he doesn’t. He never will because he’s too prideful to ever admit his faults, and his children have never been worth fighting for.
I glance at my jacket, and I almost grab it but decide to leave it. I don’t want anything in my closet to remind me of this day.
“Come on, Quinn, we’re leaving.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
We stop and hug Mom briefly before we leave. I'm sure she's embarrassed by my outburst. Only a small part of me feels bad. “I’m sorry about the scene, Mom.”
“Don’t be. Someone has needed to put that prick in his place for a while now.” She reaches up, places her hand on my jaw, and rubs her thumb over my cheek. “Thank you.”