Epilogue
Deacon
June 25th, 2019
The weather in Chicago reminded me of the weather in Bowling Green. There was always a breeze, and the winters were brutal, but the atmosphere outweighed any chill the colder months brought.
We moved the summer after graduation, and city life was busier than what Lyla and I were used to. Once Lyla walked through the two-bedroom apartment two blocks away from the space she wanted for Brooks Books, I couldn’t tell her no. It was small, affordable, and needed some renovations we could do on a medical student and new business owner’s budget. There was also enough room for whenever Jane, Lily, Drew, or anyone else in the family wanted to stay for a weekend. It was perfect.
Brooks Books was sandwiched between two other businesses that recently opened up. Darling’s was a new and trendy restaurant serving only appetizers and themed cocktails, while Green River was a print shop and apothecary whose sales skyrocketed around St. Patrick’s Day. It was a great location, and it made me smile every time I passed the curvy black letters of Lyla’s last name .
Part of me hoped Aaron Brooks would stop by one day to see it, but the man kept his distance ever since Miami. We were polite in passing, but there was a mutual understanding about the protection I felt toward Lyla. When she declined the invitation to Aaron and Tonya’s wedding, I was so fucking proud of her. Lyla wasn’t his to toy with anymore, and he finally accepted that.
Every Tuesday after work, I swung by Brooks Books with our usual mid-afternoon coffee order—a large iced coffee with vanilla and caramel and a medium iced matcha with blueberry and oat milk. The bell on the door chimed when I entered, and the cozy smell of coffee and fresh balsam greeted me. I smiled at the sight of Lyla behind her desk, working on paperwork and squinting at her open MacBook. She had her loose curls in a bun on top of her head, and I unintentionally bit my bottom lip when I saw her in thick black-framed glasses.
Just when I thought Lyla couldn’t turn me on more than she already did, the woman went and got glasses because of how much reading and screen time her job required. She didn't make it far the first time she came home in them. The second time I saw her in them, I flipped the WE’RE CLOSED sign on the shop door and had to buy her a new desk chair the next day.
“Hey, baby. Still going with the holiday scents, huh?”
Lyla looked up from her screen, smiling when she saw me. She sunk into her chair and threw her head back. “There’s nothing better than reading a good book around the holidays. It lets people escape the madness of them. Is it four-thirty already ?”
“Yes.” I leaned over her computer to kiss her, and she cupped my chin so I couldn’t pull away. She always lingered a little longer when we went an entire day without seeing each other.
“You look exhausted.” She stuck out her bottom lip and stroked her thumb against my cheek. I could’ve fallen asleep standing up if she hadn’t stopped. “I picked up the balloons, and they’re in the back. Let me grab them really quick.”
Lyla ran across the store and dipped into a small room off the hallway. She emerged with a bouquet of balloons, and I chuckled at her choices. There were solid colors of gray, white, and gold, but then there were bigger balloons that looked like a basketball, a beer mug, and a red rose.
I was still laughing when she handed them to me. “I love you.”
“And I love you. I tried to pick things that were relevant to you and the occasion. Twenty-one is a big number!”
I admired the shimmering silver of the beer mug. “These are perfect.”
I walked the balloons out to the car while Lyla locked up the store and adjusted the timer for the lights. She double-checked that the script lettering was off as she crossed the parking lot, and my heart swelled with pride as I admired the image of Lyla Brooks—the love of my life—with her dream in the background.
I opened the passenger door for her and leaned against it. “How many times I gotta tell you that my last name would look good on that sign?”
Lyla scoffed playfully and rolled her eyes. “Scott Books? It doesn’t have the same ring to it. And how many times are you going to say that line and wait for me to laugh?”
“You laughed the first time,” I countered, sipping my coffee .
Lyla was still grinning when we pulled into traffic. “Well, it was so downright adorable I just had to,” she teased. “It was very clever. But I would say by the thirty-third time, it started to lose its charm.”
I placed my hand on her thigh and gave her a light squeeze. My shoulders tensed as we pulled into the parking lot for Oakwood Beach, and when Lyla offered me the Sharpie from her purse, my mouth went dry.
“Hey,” she prompted softly so I would look at her. “Do you want me to come with you, or do you want some space? What do you need from me?”
“I think you should come,” I said with a weak smile. “And then maybe I’ll keep one and take a moment to myself before I let that one go.”
The balloons batted against each other in the breeze as Lyla and I walked hand in hand on the beach. Lyla squeezed my hand, and we both looked out into the water. More weight settled into my chest, and I could feel the pressure building behind my eyes. Something about the sound of the water and the wind on my face made it all come flowing back. It really did come in waves, and once the dam broke, there was no stopping it. Grief was a raw emotion. It was the only time in my life when I couldn’t put my feelings into words. Tears fell willingly as I locked onto the nearest subject. Without warning, I was that same open wound I was the morning I got the phone call. I felt everything and nothing simultaneously, and it didn’t matter how much time passed. It never got easier.
Lyla offered me her balloons. “Do you want to do them all?”
“No, you keep your half.” I took a deep breath and looked down at her. “I think he’d like that. ”
We stood for a few minutes as I focused on deep breaths and the pressure of Lyla’s hand. My shoulders relaxed, and I closed my eyes. I was here with Lyla, and I was here with Dominic. I slowly pulled my hand from Lyla’s to separate the balloons, keeping the one that looked like a rose apart from the rest.
“Happy birthday, Dominic,” I said hoarsely. “I love you.”
“Happy birthday, Dominic,” Lyla echoed as a few tears rolled down her cheeks.
We let go of the balloons and watched as they drifted away from the city. Lyla wrapped her arms around my waist and rested her head against my side. I pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. I was able to catch a few more glimmers of the beer mug before it rose past the clouds and into a place we could no longer see.
Lyla kissed my chest through my shirt and gave me one last squeeze. “Take your time.”
Once Lyla made it to the car, I secured the rose balloon around my wrist and reached into my back pocket. I pulled out the envelope addressed to Dominic and read the letter I wrote him out loud.
Happy Birthday, Dom! You’re finally twenty-one, so the Corona you’re sneaking is finally legal! I remember when we used to sneak them out of Uncle Henry’s fridge. We were pretty bad-ass back then, huh?
Are birthdays any different up there? Do you get to party with celebrities and stumble back home after a long night of celebrating? Knowing you, you’re taking today to travel the world and seeing things I couldn’t even imagine. You were never meant to stay put in one place. Up there, you’re finally free .
Let me get the family updates out of the way. Drew is still an asshole (even though we love him for it), and apparently, a girl named Iris does too. Drew has been dating her since last February, and it’s kind of been wild to see. But you would be proud of everything he’s accomplished. I know I am.
Mom and Dad are doing okay. They started going on vacations again, and they find joy in things like they did before. For a while there, I wasn’t sure if they would ever venture out of Michigan. I wasn’t sure if they would keep our house or try to start fresh in a new place. But our home in Detroit will always be our home. It will always be your home, and I know that’s why they will never give it up.
I miss you, Dom. I miss you every day. Since you left, I’ve been chasing cardinals, believing in butterflies, and just trying to find peace knowing you’re still here. It still hits me sometimes, and I’m reminded that the day I found out you were gone actually happened. It feels like a bad dream, and then I wake up and realize that I will never move on from losing you, but I’ll find ways to move forward, because I know you would want me to.
I don’t know if you’ve seen her from up there, but I met a girl. I like to think you have since we’ve been dating for over two years. Her name is Lyla, and you’re probably sick of me talking about her. In my defense, I never know if you get my messages! It’s not like I get read receipts, so give me a break.
Here’s the deal—I need nice weather on Saturday, so put in a good word for me with whoever runs that shit. I want you front and center on Saturday, June 29th. I’m asking Lyla to marry me, and I want you to be there for it.
Chicago is where our dreams started, and it’s where I want our future to begin. We have an incredible life. Lyla has Brooks Books, and I’m at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. I’m almost halfway done with medical school, and Lyla is a natural at running her business. Every morning, I have to remind myself that this is my life and that I’m allowed to be happy with where it is going.
It’s a good life, Dominic, and since yours was cut short, I promise to make the most of mine.
It’s weird, isn’t it? No matter how much you prepare for something, things happen, and everything changes. Time is precious, and the people you spend it with are important. Losing you taught me that.
I miss you, Dom. I know I already said that, but I’ll say it every day for the rest of my life. I wish you were here. I wish you could meet Lyla. I like to think you had something to do with me meeting her that morning. How else would it explain that I found exactly who I needed when I didn’t think my world could get any darker?
People say death is hard, but I’d argue that living with grief is harder. You were the best son and younger brother. You were such a light in this world, and you had the best smile.
Keep the skies clear and your dreams big. Fly high, and I’ll do my best to remember everything happening here. We have a hell of a lot to catch up on when I see you .
Until we meet again, I love you.
Deacon
“Fly high, buddy.” I smiled proudly and watched the rose float past the clouds, where I knew Dominic was watching from the other side.