Chapter 3
The silence that filled the car was one that only visited when death called.
It was the kind of silence that came from not knowing what to say.
It was the kind that was summoned when something hurt too badly to be explained.
There was no consoling it. There was no ignoring it, no dulling it or treating it.
It just remained, and it was immeasurable.
Demi’s eyes burned. He was filled with an unyielding anguish.
It was like someone was holding a branding iron to his chest, marking him with a burn that would never heal.
It was the invisible mark of a grieving parent.
Demi hadn’t even known that a feeling like this could exist. To think, his world was ordinary just a few hours ago.
It felt like another lifetime ago. Happiness.
Wholeness. Lying next to the woman he loved.
Yeah, that shit was an alternate universe.
It may as well have been a dream because, in this reality, he could never see himself feeling anything except brokenness.
He felt himself driving, but he had no idea how he hadn’t wrecked his car.
His mind was void of logic. His eyes were on the road ahead of him, but he didn’t see anything.
Images of DJ flashed in his mind the entire way.
Lauren sat in the passenger seat. If he didn’t smell her signature perfume, he wouldn’t even know she was there.
Her silence matched his. They were both vanishing before each other’s eyes.
Day followed in Lauren’s car all the way home.
Demi was afraid of this house. Suddenly, it was intimidating to be inside the space where his son had taken his life.
He turned off the car and neither he nor Lauren moved.
He could hear DJ’s laughter ringing in his ears.
He could hear their playful banter. He could hear his son being braggadocios through his headset as he played video games.
Those were the sounds that used to exist inside this house.
It was unbelievable that he would never get to hear those sounds again.
If he had known the last time was going to be the last time, he would have cherished the noise.
Memories were all he had now. He didn’t even have Lauren to share this emptiness with.
He had given her up before realizing what they would have to face.
The boy in him needed the woman he had hurt now more than ever, and he was too proud to tell her.
As he glanced over at her, he was sure she was too destroyed to care.
He opened the door, and his feet left trails through fresh snow as he rounded the car to open Lauren’s door. Day pulled in behind them and exited as well.
No words, just actions, just zombies as he held out his hand for her. She stared at it, almost like she was afraid to take hold of him.
“It’s cold, Lo. Let’s get you in the house,” Demi said.
“Is it? I don’t feel anything,” she replied.
Death was a cruel encounter, and its grip was firm around her neck.
It had narrowed its glaring stare on her family, and its kiss was poisonous.
That venom was spreading through her body, decaying everything.
Her heart…her lungs…the pit of her stomach, all rotting from the inside out.
If she touched Demi, would he start to rot too?
How long could two decaying hearts continue to beat?
“When we…go in this house…and he’s…not there, Demi.” Her words tripped out of her throat as each sob interrupted her. “Demi, fix it, please. Please! I’ll never ask you for anything again just go get my baby!”
There hadn’t been a lot that Lauren had asked him for that he hadn’t delivered, and it made him feel powerless that he couldn’t deliver this miracle for her.
If only he could. If the attempt was even halfway possible, he would give it his all, but life didn’t work that way.
Regrets remained because time didn’t tick in reverse.
If he could redo it all, he would. He would treat Lauren better and be more appreciative of the moments they had on those simple days when they were all under one roof—and their son, their creation, their sum was breathing.
“I can’t, Lo.”
“You can’t ever do the shit you’re supposed to do!” Lauren screamed, her wails carrying through the pitch-black sky as the freezing wind howled in harmony. “Where were you?!”
Her question awakened Demi’s guilt because, in the back of his mind, he knew that DJ had veered into the danger zone the moment he had moved out.
“He needed you! You’re so fucking selfish!
” Lauren wailed. She rushed Demi, emotion fueling her.
Her despair motivated balled fists to fly his way as she punched and pushed Demi.
He was so solid she barely moved him, and Demi grabbed her hands to stop her from knocking his head off his shoulders.
Her resentment and aggression were so great, and rightfully so.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he tried to subdue her.
“Let me go! This is your fault!” Demi’s eyes stormed as his vision blurred.
Was she right? Was he to blame? It sure felt that way, but hearing the accusation stung.
It filled him with embarrassment because what kind of father couldn’t protect his own son?
Lauren fought against him until Day intervened.
“Come on, sis, not out here,” Day said, pulling her away from Demi.
“I hope you’re happy. My son is dead because of you,” Lauren accused, sobbing before giving into Day and sobbing on his shoulder.
Day stared at Demi as he held Lauren tightly, and he could see his best friend’s misery.
Day knew Demi. They had been friends for a long time.
Demi needed the type of support he would never request, but silently, Demi was tasking Day to come to Lauren’s aid.
She was in shock. Her world had been turned upside down, as had his, but Lauren was looking to place blame.
She had to, to make sense of it. Someone had to be the cause, and in the crevices of her broken heart, the cause was Demi.
“Take her inside,” Demi instructed.
Day hesitated. The look in Demi’s eyes was haunting.
Day had never seen hopelessness like that before.
Demi had never felt it, and if he was honest, he didn’t know what to do with the grief.
He didn’t have the privacy he needed to give into the loss.
He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t scream. He ached to hurt someone, to punish something.
Instead, he stood there, lost and confused.
“I just need a minute,” Demi reassured.
Day nodded and escorted Lauren into the house.
Demi walked back to the driver’s side of his car and climbed inside, turning up his heat to knock the chill from his bones.
He sat in that car in silence for two hours as he waited for the light to go out in Lauren’s bedroom.
The blunt he sparked was company enough as he stared at that amber glow in the window.
He knew Lauren down to a science. She would go inside, shower, pull out her journal, write down her thoughts, read a passage from her Bible, pray, and then sleep.
Although tonight, he doubted if sleep would come.
Not for him, not for her, but he waited anyway for the bedroom light to go out.
Only then could he go inside when he knew it was safe.
He would wait outside forever to avoid her wrath.
He didn’t need Lauren to assign the blame, he already felt it.
Her judgment would only push him over the edge of a steep cliff, and he knew he wouldn’t survive the descent.
He thought about calling Charlie, but he was afraid of the probing he knew would come with dialing her number.
He went to her Instagram and clicked on one of her posts.
She sat in front of a camera, with no makeup, locs pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, and guitar in her hands.
Demi closed his eyes as she sang to him.
Pain leaked from his eyes, and he stubbornly wiped it away, trying to remove all evidence of this breakdown.
Charlie sang, and Demi cried in the shadows of this dark, snowy night.
In this solitude, he wished he had never met her.
If he hadn’t walked into that club that night, he would have never laid eyes on her, and he would have never had a desire to love her.
He would have been satisfied with his wife, and he would be inside this very home on this night, with his woman and their child.
It hadn’t been a bad life. Demi had just taken it for granted.
As he felt his heart cracking in two, he realized, that every small moment spent under this roof with Lauren and his son had been the biggest moments of his life.
Now, they were memories. Now, those times were impossible to recapture, and suddenly, the sound of Charlie’s voice made his stomach flip.
A knocking on his window caused Demi to shape up. A click of a button turned his screen black, and he cleared his wet face with one swipe of his hand.
He opened the door and stepped out to face Day.
“She needs you in there,” Day said.
Demi nodded and bit into his bottom lip as his chin shook against his will.
“I fucked this up,” Demi hissed.
“We all fucked this up. DJ is a part of all our lives, bruh. We all could have done more…”
“I’m his father,” Demi countered.
“And you were a good one. A damn better one than either of us had,” Day said. “Don’t doubt that. Nobody did this. We just missed it, that’s all,” Day said somberly.
“How, tho’?” Demi asked. “How the fuck did I miss this?”
“I don’t know what’s needed here, but I’m right here with you. I’m gonna reach out to the funeral home. We’ll send him to the sky in style, spare no expense. I got this part. You and Lo don’t have to worry about shit. Just take care of each other,” Day promised.
“You talking about my little boy’s funeral, Day.
You talking about putting my li’l man in the dirt.
How this happen, bruh?” Demi asked, genuinely confused.
The tears were back, sliding down the bridge of his nose.
No matter how much he wanted to appear strong, they both knew he had never been more vulnerable.
This was one of the most unnatural things he had ever felt.
“I don’t know, man,” Day replied. Demi turned and placed his hands on the roof of his car, balancing his weight as he lowered his head in defeat.
He sobbed. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and then a squeeze of support, and Demi knew he had to pull it together.
He stood, clearing his throat in embarrassment, and Day said, “No tough guy shit this time. No gangster shit. No pretending like we aren’t fucked up.
We just two brothers who about to go in this house and have a drink while we figure out how to put one foot in front of the other. I’m here, my nigga. You hear me?”
Demi nodded. He couldn’t speak, but he complied and followed Day into the house.
The scent of the home was so familiar that it somehow soothed Demi.
His new place still smelled like plaster and paint.
It had been built from the ground up for Charlie, and it was still too new for her scent to settle into the walls.
Lauren’s house had scents and sounds that had burrowed into his psyche for years.
Along with the familiarity came comfort.
He didn’t know how he had missed this appreciation for this space before.
The way he had sighed in relief as he crossed the threshold symbolized safety.
Demi knew this place. His son’s energy was alive between these walls.
It was the only place he could see himself being tonight.
Day headed for the bar, but Demi kept walking down the hallway toward DJ’s room.
The sight of the blood took his breath away.
He could smell the iron in the air, and it was so overwhelming it turned his stomach.
He couldn’t fathom his son’s last moments.
He walked into the adjoining bathroom. More blood.
So much more blood. When Demi’s eyes landed on the razor on the floor, he folded.
He had to sit. He sat on the edge of the toilet as he reached for the razor.
It belonged to him. It was an old-school straight razor that he had left behind.
The tool his son had used to hurt himself… to kill himself.
Demi sat there stunned. Day entered the room, standing in the doorway to the bathroom.
“Get out of here, man. Let me get this cleaned up. I know how you is,” Day said.
Demi shook his head. “I’ll do it.” It was a big task for a man who hated filth, but it was his responsibility. This blood was his blood, and no one else could do this part. Lauren definitely shouldn’t have to, so he stood and opened the closet.
Mop.
Bucket.
Cleaning solution.
He retrieved it all, filled the bucket with hot water, and went to work.
Day opened the closet, grabbed more supplies, and joined him.
They had spilled a lot of blood over the years; never did they think they would be here.
There was a screaming silence in this room.
Demi emerged from the bathroom and rested the mop against the wall.
He grabbed the bottle of Louis that Day had placed on the dresser and then grabbed the two glasses.
Pour up. Drink. Pour up. He passed a glass to Day and then took a seat on his son’s bed.
He leaned over, resting elbows to knees, as he swirled the brown liquor around in the glass.
“Say, man,” Demi said. “This shit gon’ kill me.”
“I ain’t gon’ let it, my nigga. I can’t stop the feeling, though. You got to find a way through the hurt.”
“He’s a piece of me. He’s mine. Made of me. And now he’s dead.” Demi swallowed the drink in one giant gulp. He invited the burn, hoping it would wash the devastation away.
“I don’t know what to say to this shit. Niggas just talk to talk when shit like this happens. So I’ma shut the fuck up and just listen, bruh. I’ma just be here with you and sis. Whatever y’all need.”
Day took a seat next to Demi and held out his glass.
Demi tapped it with his own, and then the two men sat in silence as they refilled, settling into their brokenness.
The fabrics of their lives had been dismantled.
An invisible hand had plucked a loose thread, and the entire garment upon which they existed had come apart.
It just wasn’t right. The death of a child would never make sense.