Prologue #2
My dad pops his head into my room. For as long as I can remember, my dad was always put together.
He’d get up before the sun and run a 5K, then come home and get ready for work, while helping my mom wrangle us boys.
And he’s done that every day for the last twenty-nine years—at least he has since I was born.
But my dad hasn’t been my dad in a week and losing James—I don’t know if we’ll ever get that version of him again.
“We’re gonna leave in about ten minutes.”
“Okay,” I tell him. I almost tack on I’m almost ready–but when is anyone really ready to bury a sibling, a son, a friend, or a fiancée?
He nods, backs his head out of my room, and closes the door. I’ve cried more in these past few days than I have in my entire life. It’s like there’s this elephant sitting on my chest, squeezing my throat, and every time I swallow, it gets harder and harder to breathe.
I put on my suit, still in disbelief that I’m going to my brother’s funeral. I pull myself together long enough to slide my wallet into the inside pocket of my suit jacket and pocket my phone. When I open the door to head out to the hallway, I stop.
When James and I were little—before Malcolm, Evan, and Ford were born—every Christmas morning we’d race each other down the stairs to see who would be the first one to the presents.
And now, as I stare across the hall at the door that will likely never be open again, I feel the biggest piece of my soul split.
I cover the distance between our rooms and my hand hovers over the doorknob.
But I don’t go inside. I haven’t since that night.
It’s like I keep waiting to see my brother laying on his bed and talking with Emily.
It’s a sort of illusion I’m clinging to.
But the jangling of keys snaps me out of my sadness and I leave his door as I turn toward the stairs.
Someone is playing a cruel joke on my family.
For as lively as we are, life has been snuffed out.
On the drive to the church, the outside world is a blur.
I couldn’t tell you a thing. Is it raining?
Did we hit any traffic? I’m more than numb.
And as I sit in the church, watching Emily, my almost sister-in-law, read what would have been her wedding vows to a room full of people—more pieces of my soul break.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder when she joins us in the pew again and listen to words being said about my brother while silent tears flow down my face.
I can’t believe that this is real life and I would never wish this pain on anyone.
Angie
Five days.
That’s how long it’s been since my brother drove head-on into the back of an eighteen-wheeler—taking not only his life, but his best friend’s life as well. Destroying two families in the process.
Five days.
That’s the last time normal has existed in my vocabulary. And my life? Well, that will never be normal again.
I sit at the foot of the stairs and wait for my parents to come out of their bedroom.
The state of denial we’ve all been living in has become our existence.
How do people deal? Do people heal from a loss like this?
My parents’ bedroom door opens and I watch, with eyes sore from crying, as they walk toward the foyer and meet my gaze.
Sometimes I wonder what I am to them. They haven’t treated me like their little girl, but more like an extra kid who didn’t have the same hopes and dreams like her brother.
“Ready, Angela?”
I grit my teeth as blood whooshes through my ears and nod.
Neither of them have called me Angela since the day I was born.
Even though it’s my birth name, they’ve always settled on calling me Angie.
And I wonder if that’s how they’ll behave around me.
I follow them out the front door and to the waiting hearse.
I’m not sure why we need this when it’s just the three of us.
I never met my grandparents on either side and both of my parents were only children.
So I always wondered why they had two kids when all they knew was life as an only child.
Sitting in the church is a blur, and the next thing I know, we’re at the burial site.
My forehead scrunches when Kamryn—my brother’s girlfriend?
Ex? I lost track of the amount of times they broke up and got back together—stands up at the makeshift podium.
Her speech sends a wave of melancholy over the crowd.
It smooths out the bullshit the minister was giving, so for that, I give her props.
But I also learn things about my brother that I probably never would have, and through her attempt to hold back her tears, I realized just how much Kamryn loved my brother.
Did I think they were endgame? No. And it’s not that I don’t adore Kamryn like a sister I never had, but she was way too good for my brother.
My eyes follow her as she walks past us back to her seat.
And as they begin to lower my brother into the ground, it hits me that this is the last time we’ll be on this side of the world together.
That realization smacks into me like the crescendo of a big piano finale and the emotions take my breath away.
I slap my hand over my mouth to stop the sob from reaching anyone’s ears.
I excuse myself from where I’m sitting and leave the tent.
Soon, others follow, and I watch with tears falling as people offer condolences to my parents, but commotion on the other end pulls my attention that way.
Someone is telling Kamryn off, maybe one of Liam’s teammates.
He certainly fits the bill, and when he leaves, I watch as she crumbles.
I’d say I’m glad to see her feeling as much pain as I am, but truthfully, besides James, she’s likely the last person to have seen my brother before he made a decision to end it. And that’s not a burden I’d wish on anyone.