by Kennedy Fox
Shortly after we end the call, there’s a knock on the door, and I dread having to tell my two other best friends. I open the door and let them in. They look at Lennon and her sisters and then at me.
“Dude, what’s going on? Locke okay?” Mason asks.
“Where is he? At the hospital?” Liam looks uncomfortable.
I drop my eyes and shake my head. “He didn’t…make it, guys.”
“What?” they both ask.
I’m sweating when I look at them. “Died at the scene. Officers showed up late last night to tell us.”
“Fuck. Are you joking?”
“No way.”
I frown. “Serious.”
They’re both distraught, and I lead them to the kitchen table to sit so we don’t upset Lennon any more than she already is.
After moments of silence, Mason speaks up. “Do you know what happened?”
“Yeah, Mrs. Locke spoke with the medical examiner and officer this morning. But last night, all I knew was what Lennon told me, which was that he went on a solo joyride.”
As I say it aloud, it hits me. Lennon told me they were supposed to go cruising together, and she ended up changing her plans at the last minute when she went to Sophie’s last night. Holy fuck.
Not only is Lennon dealing with this news, but she’s also probably thinking about how she was supposed to be with him. Hell, I honestly don’t know what she’s thinking, but I can only imagine the grief and anger she’s experiencing. The same emotions rush through me too.
I repeat the information Brandon’s mom told me about how the investigation is still ongoing, but that a semi-truck hit him at sixty miles an hour. The driver claimed he didn’t even see him, and that Brandon flew off the bike and landed in a ditch. Even though he was wearing a helmet, nothing could’ve saved his life at that speed. He was dead before the paramedics arrived on the scene.
He was only twenty minutes away from home.
The visual and realization have me rushing to the sink and emptying my stomach.
“You alright, man?” Liam asks after a moment, handing me a towel.
“Fuck if I know.” I wipe my mouth and the cold sweat off my forehead. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“I know.” Mason claps his hand tightly on my shoulder and squeezes.
Lennon’s sisters and the guys stay through the afternoon, but soon they all have to go, leaving just the two of us in a silent apartment. Neither of us has eaten all day, and I know if we don’t, we’ll lose our strength to get through this.
I don’t bother asking Lennon if she’s hungry because I already know what she’ll say. So I order comfort food, and when it arrives, I plate it for her and bring it to where she’s lying on the couch—the spot she hasn’t moved from all day.
“No thanks,” she mutters, staring off into space.
“You need something in your stomach, Lennon.” I push it closer toward her.
“You don’t know shit about what I need,” she says, her voice a bit louder this time.
“Look, I know you’re pissed. I know you’re hurting. I know you’re angry. I get it. If you need to use me as your emotional punching bag, then I’ll let you. But I’m not going to let you starve,” I tell her firmly.
She finally turns and looks at me but stays silent.
“Just try to eat a little,” I say softer this time. “I ordered your favorite.”
Lennon blinks, then looks down at her plate. “How’d you know this is my favorite?” She eyes the lobster and shrimp mac ’n’ cheese.
I swallow, looking down at my own plate of the same thing. She thinks I don’t listen when she talks, but she’s wrong. I’m always listening, especially when it comes to her. Not for any particular reason, but I hear what she says all the same.
“I just do,” I offer.
She sits up and takes the plate, placing it on her lap. “Thank you,” she says softly.
The TV’s been on all day as background noise, but neither of us talks or watches what’s playing. We sit in silence and eat, and though I have no appetite, I scarf it down. Lennon moves her food around with her fork before she finally takes a bite.
Nothing either of us can say will make the other feel better or change things. As much as Lennon wants to hate me, I’m here to stay and help her through this—help us both through this. Even though I don’t want to admit it, I need her as much as she needs me. She’s the only person who was as close to Brandon as I was and can fully understand the never-ending grief I’m feeling. I know I’ve wanted to hate her and have her hate me this whole time, but Brandon dying has put everything into perspective. Life’s too short and unpredictable to be a dickhead. I know he’d want me to look after her the best way I know how, even if she’d rather push me away.
“Are you done?” I ask when she abandons her barely eaten food and lies back down.
She nods.
Pushing myself up, I grab our dirty dishes and walk to the kitchen. I rinse and put them in the dishwasher, a skill Lennon constantly thought I couldn’t figure out. Except who does she think did them before she moved in? Though, before she insisted she buy new china, we used paper plates and a mismatched set we’d bought from the thrift store.
Once I’ve cleaned up and put the leftover food in the fridge, I head back to Lennon and see her knees up to her chest with her arms wrapped around her legs. I wish I could take her pain away even though I’d never be able to.
“Going to bed?” I ask, grabbing the remote to turn off the TV.
“I’m sleeping here,” she says. “I can’t sleep in there.” Lennon pinches her eyes shut, and I can see her lip visually trembling, so I don’t push her on it.
“Okay,” I say, setting the remote back down and grabbing the pillow and blanket. I place it on the floor next to her just like last night.
“What are you doing?” she asks softly, her sad eyes meeting mine.
“I’m not letting you stay out here alone,” I tell her. “Want another blanket?”
She blinks up at me. “Sure.”
Once I grab one, I drape it over her body. Then I turn off the living room light and settle into my makeshift bed. Lennon hasn’t broken down since her sisters left hours ago, but now as the silence and darkness surround us, she tries to keep her tears and emotions at bay but can’t.
God. Hearing her cry is fucking ruining me. If I wasn’t such an asshole toward her during the past two years, she’d trust me to comfort her. The pain she’s feeling is bound to be on a level greater than even I can understand. We both loved Brandon, but she was in love with him. I can’t begin to fathom losing the love of my life, and my heart fucking aches for her, for what she no longer has, for what she lost—a good man, best friend, a future husband even. The last part punches me straight in the goddamn gut as I remember the conversation Brandon and I had not too long ago. I push the thoughts away, hoping I don’t lose my dinner, because I feel so fucking sick over it that I might.
“Tomorrow’s a new day, Lennon. We’ll get through this, okay?” I tell her, hoping it’ll calm her some, hoping it will calm me too. I hold on to tomorrow like a candle in the darkness, a light that will guide us into the morning as I close my eyes and try to think of nothing. Only time can heal this pain, but the seconds feel like minutes and minutes like hours as the past day continues to play on repeat.
We’ll survive this, won’t we? I wonder, and Lennon speaks up as if she’s read my mind, but really, she’s only responding to my last comment.
“We have to,” she finally says after a few moments of silence. “We have no other option.”
Chapter Eleven
Lennon
I’m living in my own personal hell, a nightmare I can’t seem to wake from. Shock and anxiety have become my best friends and never leave my side. They’re determined to swallow me whole and smother me until I’m no longer here. One moment, I’m okay. The next, I’m so lost and broken I feel as if I’m dying from the inside out. My heart hurts, and heav
iness weighs on me while I drown in emptiness. No one understands this from my perspective. How could they?
I’ve cried myself to sleep the past two nights at the reality I’ll never see him again. I try to remember his voice and think about how he’d make sure to tell me good night before we went to bed. The past few mornings have been the worst, though, because I dream of him and wake up to a new day without him in it. The smell of Brandon is already fading, and though it’s only been two days since the accident, I already feel as if he’s slipping through my fingers. The thought of my love becoming nothing more than a memory causes tears to well on the edge of my lids. I’m surprised I have anything left.
The last conversation I had with him plays on repeat in my mind. One of the last things he said before driving away was how much he loved me. Every chance he had, he told me how much I meant to him, and I only wish I could see him or kiss him or hold him again. Just one more time.
I sit up on the couch, careful not to step on Hunter. He hasn’t left my side because I can’t find the courage to sleep in my bed.
Brandon and I were supposed to get married, have kids, and grow old together. We were going to have a million grandchildren and spoil them rotten. We dreamed big, and it always included each other. I believed with every fiber of my being that he was the man I’d be with for the rest of my life. This was supposed to be the beautiful beginning of our love story, not the fucking end. Not the end.
But it is the end…
I gasp, and I feel as if I can’t breathe as the weight of it all comes pounding down again.
Tears threaten to pour out, but this time, they’re accompanied by anger. I force myself to stand, walk around Hunter’s body, then go to the bathroom. My movements are robotic as if I’m on autopilot because essentially, I am. I eat and breathe because I have to, not because I want to. The hollow shell of me goes through the motions of living, but I don’t know how I’ll ever move on from this.
The only thing that keeps me going is the fact that my kids at school need me. I hold on to that like a life jacket, and right now, it’s saving me from drowning.
I turn on the light and look in the mirror at a zombie version of myself with puffy eyes and a red nose. I’m in a constant state of sadness, but somehow, I force myself in the shower. I turn on the water as hot as it’ll go, hoping it will steal the place of the constant pain I feel inside my heart, but it’s no use. For the first time in my life, I shower in silence. I lean against the wall and allow the stream to fall over me, to snap me out of this, but it’s no use.
The water goes cold, the only indicator I’ve been in here long enough, and I step out of the shower and dry off. I put on a dress and some flats, an outfit I’ve worn for class a half dozen times. After I blow-dry my hair, I pin it back so I look somewhat put together. Though I try, no amount of concealer will cover the dark circles under my eyes or the redness on my face, so I give up.
I walk into the kitchen, see Brandon’s mug on the counter, and instantly start crying. Grief is a bitch and slaps me as the memories of us drinking coffee together flood in.
I try to hold back my tears as best as I can because I don’t want Hunter to hear me. Ironic considering he’s heard me crying the past two days. He’s the only person who somewhat understands the loss I’m feeling. My sisters came over to comfort me, but I had nothing to say, so we just sat in awkward silence. No words can describe how broken and lost I am. I feel as if I’m unrepairable.
A soft hand lands on my shoulder, and I jump. Turning around, I wipe the tears from my cheeks and try to dry them up, though it’s no use.
“Lennon,” Hunter says softly. “I don’t think you’re ready to go back to work already. You need time to heal, to process everything. I’m sure the school would understand considering what happened.” He looks like he didn’t get any sleep either. It’s been a rough two days for us both. I can tell he’s emotionally angry too, but he’s better at hiding it than I am. Instead of crying like me, he holds it all in, but if he doesn’t release it soon, he’s eventually going to snap.
I swallow hard, knowing as soon as I speak my voice is going to crack. “I know.”
Tears fall, and I wipe them away again. “But my students need me. The concert is on Friday, and they’ve worked so hard for this. Only three more days and then I’ll be on spring break and can process it all.”
I can tell he’s choosing his words carefully by the way he stares at me. “I understand, but just know that no one would blame you if you changed your mind. If you show up and feel as if you can’t do it, it’s okay to admit it.” I don’t know how long Hunter plans to take off work, but I know he’s meeting with Brandon’s parents today to help with the funeral arrangements. Part of me is glad I won’t be there because I wouldn’t be any help, but I’m also appreciative that he’s being strong and doing this so Brandon’s parents don’t have to do it alone.
I nod, feeling numb, grateful I have this concert to keep me moving forward. I don’t feel like singing and pretending to be happy, but I will for my students. Grabbing my bag and keys, I head to work, hoping I can make it through the next three days without breaking down in front of the entire school. I have to be strong for them or at least try to be.
The school concert goes off without a hitch. It was the perfect distraction, and the kids sang their little hearts out. Many of them asked what was wrong because when they’d sing, I’d cry. While I didn’t want to lie, it was just easier to say someone I cared about passed away and explain how proud I was of them. So damn proud.
After the performance, Principal Maples congratulated me for a job well done and gave her condolences. I think she knew I was in a fragile state of mind and left it at that, though I’ve heard the whispers about me being at work so grief stricken. For the most part, everyone was extremely understanding or at least acted like they were. But now it’s Sunday, a day I’ve been dreading for the past week because today’s the day I’ll put my love to rest.
Some people say funerals give closure to the soul, but to me, it only makes it real that Brandon’s never coming back. I wore the same black dress as on our Valentine’s Day date, and I don’t know how I’ll ever put it on again after this. Once I’m ready, I suck in a deep breath and sit on the couch, wishing I could sink inside the cushions and disappear.
Hunter walks into the living room, dressed in a sleek black suit. “Do you want to ride with me?”
I hear him talking, but I’m too lost in my head, thinking about this funeral and what it means once it’s over.
He walks farther into the room and kneels in front of me so we’re eye level. “Lennon. Do you want to ride with me?”
Blinking, I look at him, meeting his gaze. “Sure.”
“We should probably get going then,” he says, standing, then walking away. But I don’t know if I’m ready. I stand, and I lose the control I thought I had.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. I try to stop crying but can’t seem to find the faucet to turn off the tears.
Hunter takes a few steps forward but maintains some distance between us. “Hey, hey. Don’t be sorry.”
I feel stupid each time I burst into tears around him. I know he doesn’t like me, and he’s only being nice because I’m so emotional right now. As difficult and impossible as it seems, I’ll eventually have to find my own place and try to move on with my life.
I inhale a deep breath and wipe my face.
“Ready?” Hunter lifts his eyebrows and gives me a small smile. The truth is, I don’t know if I can do this, but I know I have to.
I grab my phone and tuck it into my clutch, then follow Hunter outside. He walks beside me, and neither of us speaks. We get into the truck and drive across town to the church Brandon grew up attending. After we park, Hunter turns off the engine, and we sit and stare at the double doors that lead inside. His chest rises and falls, and I look over at him and see tears well on the edges of his eyes, but they don’t fall.
“I always imagined th
is’d be the place we’d get married,” I say more to myself. Hunter stills, and a ragged breath escapes him.
“We should probably go inside.” He finally speaks after the silence awkwardly draws on too long.
I nod, get out of the truck, and force myself to walk across the parking lot and up the stairs. As soon as I enter, the scent of fresh flowers hits my nose, making me nauseous. The smell of roses used to bring me so much joy, and now the sweet smell seems so pungent. I look inside the chapel and see the black casket sitting at the front. My feet feel as if they’re glued to the floor, and as much as I want to move, I can’t.
Liam and Mason walk up and give Hunter a hug, then give me one too.
“I’m so sorry, Lennon,” Mason offers. “If you need anything…”
I wipe tears from my cheeks, and Liam hands me a handful of tissues. “You might need these.”
I let out a choked laugh, then look over at Hunter as Liam and Mason walk back inside.
“I can’t do this,” I tell him. It’s wrong. This all feels so wrong.
His eyes soften, and he gently places his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll go in together, okay?” His words are comforting as he takes my hand.
I tuck my lips inside my mouth and look up at the ceiling, trying to find what little strength I have left. Water fills my eyes, and I can barely see as I walk through the entrance and down the aisle. It’s all too much, and I want it to be over right now so I can be alone.
“We don’t have to go up there if you don’t want,” Hunter tells me. I know I’m expected to, though I’m not sure I can keep it together long enough to do that.
A slideshow plays on the big screen with the saddest fucking music I’ve ever heard, and when I see pictures of me and Brandon together, I turn into a complete mess. Instead of walking, I sit as quickly as I can and let it all out, not caring who sees me. Soon someone sits next to me and wraps their arms around me, and when I look up, I see Brandon’s mother, Mrs. Locke.
“Oh, sweetie. I am so sorry,” she says. I hold her tighter, and when I finally pull away, I apologize when I notice my tears have spilled onto the shoulder of her dress. She waves it off and studies me, asking with her eyes if I’m okay, though we all know the answer to that one.
