Chapter 20 Angie
ANGIE
TWO MONTHS LATER
“Hi, Liam. Happy birthday,” I greet his headstone.
The late October wind whips around me and I pull my coat tighter around me.
I look around at the reds, oranges, browns, and yellows of the fallen leaves in the cemetery and wonder in amazement how a place so sad could look so beautiful.
But maybe that’s our loved ones' way of bringing some joy to a place that holds so much sadness.
“I knew you’d hate these,” I begin to tell him as I squat down and place the bouquet of baby’s breath at his resting spot. “So that’s why I got them.” Smiling to myself, I take a seat on the cold ground.
Liam Aaron Taylor
Loving son, brother, and friend
October 21, 1991 - August 28, 2017
“It’s funny how I finished the last of my college classes right around the anniversary of your death.
I chose not to look into it too much. But I was looking around at the group of people celebrating me, and in a quick moment, I forgot.
I forgot that you’re not here to watch me finish college or fall in love.
And I’ve done both of those things without you.
Which I’m sure you already know.” I pull the hood up on my coat and lay on the ground, looking up at the clear fall sky.
My bottom lip trembles and I swallow thickly.
“I wish I could tell you how falling in love with someone who sees you so clearly feels. Or maybe you felt that with Kamryn? I don’t know.
I feel like I missed out on that part of your life.
Was that intentional? Because I can’t imagine hiding that massive part of my life from someone, which I’m ironically doing.
Were you two ever gooey and in love?” I run my hands over the freshly cut grass to feel grounded to my brother.
“I’m sure you and James are confused. Or maybe you both lead our paths to each other.
Sad boy, sad girl—both lost and confused as they try to navigate life without pieces of their family, brought together by one fateful work celebration. Was that your grand plan?”
A gust of wind rustles the leaves in the tree, almost like how Liam used to laugh without a care in the world and a smile hits my face.
“Jerk,” I say teasingly, “but thank you. It’s not easy but I am happy.
Brandon makes me happy, and that’s a feeling I never thought I would feel.
” I let silence take over until I know what I’m about to say next.
“You always told me that mom and dad’s attention to you was in my head.
I hope you know how wrong you were. Do I hate you for that?
A little. Did I resent you while growing up because I was basically the invisible child?
” Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, and I blink hard to stave them off.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I resented you, and some days I wished that I was an only child. Do you remember those days? The days when I would spend hours at the piano and use an instrument as my voice. After you passed, it felt like I had run out of things to say. Or maybe I was sick of using my piano as a way to be heard over the noise of you.”
Off in the distance, I hear a distinct male laughter that sounds like Liam’s. But that’s crazy. Because no way would someone have the same laugh as him.
I feel a tear slide down my face and into my ear. More follow as I release what I’ve let build up for far too long.
“I’m trying,” I whisper. “Mom and Dad are back around. And I know they apologized. But it’s so hard to jump back into whatever cordial relationship we had before you died.
How did you do it? How did you play the perfectly imperfect son?
Because I’m failing at trying to be the perfectly happy daughter when I work really hard to keep my depression from consuming me.
Some days are easier, and I hate that I lean on Brandon like that.
But he lets me. He lets me have my bad days, he lets me ignore him to play my piano until my fingers ache, he lets me be my flawed self.
” I lace my hands on top of my stomach and twiddle my thumbs.
“We want to tell the parents that we’re dating.
We want to tell everyone that we’re dating.
We have plans to be that happy couple that you see in movies.
But that’s our biggest hurdle—telling them.
I know none of my rambling makes sense, and that’s fine.
I just need to get things out that aren’t so massive in therapy and that I can’t talk about to mom and dad yet. ”
I sit up and finally stand, dusting off the dirt, grass, and leaves from my legs. “I don’t know, if you can see into the future, will you give me a sign or something that everything will be okay?” I kiss my fingers and press them to the top of his headstone. “I love you, Liam. And I miss you.”
With a final tap, I turn and head back to my car.
The two months since graduating have been a blur.
From picking up more hours at the TapHouse, to slowly advertising that piano lessons are still available, and finally to falling further and further for Brandon.
He’s been in the beginning stages of creating another video game after the successful launch of his last one, and seeing him so passionate about what he does is my motivator to pursue opening my own business.
When I get back home, my parents' cars are in the driveway.
After my mom told me they were going to be around more, I refused to listen because I refused to get my hopes up.
They disappointed me time after time, but as each day passed, they were there.
And slowly, I stopped walking on eggshells when I walked into a house with noise and light again.
The television greets me when I walk in through the front door. Toeing off my shoes and placing my jacket on the coat rack, I slide my sock-covered feet toward the living room.
“Hi, Dad,” I greet and drop on the couch next to him.
“Hi, Claire bear. How was your visit?” he asks and kisses me on the top of the head.
I lean into his side and mindlessly watch whatever he’s got on the screen.
When I asked them if they ever visited Liam, they said that after the first week, it was too hard.
So they talk to him in their own ways. I must be their odd child because the peacefulness of cemeteries never bothered me as much as it does for them.
“It was good. I’m glad I got to talk to him.”
“Me too,” he tells me.
“Dad, what do you know about starting a business?”
“Hmm. I know that you need a business plan, a lot of marketing, and a lot of money. Why? What’s going on in that brain of yours?”
“I’ve been toying around with the idea of opening a piano bar,” I confess.
He turns the volume down on the television and gives me his undivided attention. “Really? That’s a great idea.”
“It is?”
“Yes. How long have you been thinking about it?”
“About a year on and off.” I shrug my shoulders like it’s no big deal. “But it’s more like a pipe dream than anything.”
“You know, you’re like your mother,” my dad tells me.
“How so?”
“Once she gets an idea in her head, she’ll brush it off like it’s not important or like it’ll never go from an idea to reality.”
My brows crinkle as my dad tells me this. “What did she brush off?”
“Getting her MBA to become the top exec at the bank's headquarters.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. When we were in college, I can’t tell you how many times your mom blew me off to study. And rightfully so. I should’ve followed her lead, but instead I was chasing her.”
A small smile creeps up after his last sentence before I sit back on the couch and let out a huff. “I just feel lost.”
“You’re supposed to feel lost after graduating, sweet pea. It’s unfortunately a rite of passage. Plus, you graduated earlier than those in your high school class, so I think it’s more natural that you feel this way.”
“That’s what everyone says,” I mutter.
Dad chuckles and kisses me on the side of my head again. “You’ll find your stride, Ang. It just takes more than a month to do that.”
“Yeah,” I sigh and then ask a question I’ve been curious about for years.
“Dad, are you happy at your job?” This is the first time I’m asking since Mr. Hayes quit years ago.
Dad worked his way up the marketing ladder right out of college.
Mom would always tell me how much of a talker he was when they were going through school, so his promotion to COO wasn’t that big of a surprise.
I didn’t know how big a deal that was until recently—even when Liam and James died.
And I guess it made sense that I saw less of him.
“I am.” He nods. “I hope you know that I am sorry that we were away. At the time, it just made sense for us to accept the on-the-road jobs, and it was a coincidence that we had business in the same city.”
“I know you are,” I tell him and stay on the couch for a little while longer before deciding to play it out.
Giving my dad a pat on the thigh, I heave myself off the couch and head to the front room.
I set my phone facedown on the lid of the piano and take a seat on the bench.
It’s rare when I step foot on here that my mind doesn’t flash back to that night Brandon and I erased the word slow from our relationship.
But we haven’t seen each other in a couple of weeks because of our clashing schedules, and I miss him.
Apparently, to combat missing him, my mind goes back to that night.
I warm up my hands and fingers with some scales before playing two of the classical pieces that I was forced to memorize when I was younger.
Then I move on to songs I heard in movies.
That piece Miley Cyrus played was one of my hyperfixations, so I start that before going into more sensual songs by artists like The Weeknd and Frank Ocean.
“I forget how beautifully you play,” I hear to my right, and look at my mom standing at the threshold, leaning against the wall divider.