by Libby Austin
“Son, we have more to talk about,” my dad said.
“We can talk later. I want to see my brother.” I wouldn’t believe it until I saw him for myself.
“Okay, we can drive over there.”
Ten minutes later, a woman who resembled Layna opened the door to the cottage.
“Hi, Leta. We have someone to see Barrett,” my dad told her.
“Oh, he’ll be so excited,” she said with a smile. “We were just doing some exercises to warm up before the therapist arrived.
We stepped inside and my mom made the introductions. “Carmelita, this is our son Brandon. Brandon, this is Carmelita, Barrett’s favorite nurse.” Carmelita giggled at the compliment and another piece slipped into place.
“Fuck. Is there any part of our lives that fucking family hasn’t invaded?” I said as I glared at Layna’s sister.
“Brandon Matthew, you have no idea what you’re talking about and you will apologize this second,” my mom said. We glared at each other.
“And whose fault is it that I have no idea what I’m talking about?” I asked, my anger rising to the surface.
“It’s mine and your father’s, not anyone else’s. You have a right to be angry, but this is neither the time nor the place.”
Her admission took some of the heat from my anger and I nodded my head.
“Would y’all like me to bring you something to drink?” Leta asked. “I’m sure Barrett could use some water now.”
“No, thank you,” I said politely.
“I’ll leave y’all alone,” she said with a compassionate smile before walking away.
“He’s back here,” Dad said as he pointed down a hallway to the right.
I nodded and gestured for him to lead the way.
Barrett sat in a wheelchair, watching two dogs playing through a sliding glass door. His eyes shifted to the doorway when our dad called his name.
“There’s someone here to see you, buddy,” our dad said as he stepped clear of the doorway.
I stepped into the room, ten feet from the brother I thought had been dead all these years. He began to make a noise, and I looked to my dad for reassurance.
“He’s happy to see you. Go talk to him,” my dad said, then he left the room.
At first, I wasn’t sure what to make of Barrett’s expression. One side of his face was paralyzed, but I could tell he was trying to smile.
I walked over and knelt beside his chair. Taking one of his hands in mine, I said, “Hi, Brett. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.” With my other hand, I reached up and wiped the tears trickling from his eyes.
We stayed together the rest of the day. I told him all about the band and our travels. He would respond in his way to let me know he enjoyed my tales. I saw firsthand just how much care he required in a day. And when we left to go back to my parents’ house, Brett came with us. Once again the Reft family was a family of four.
For a week, it was just our family learning how to be a family again. My parents finished explaining how they came to be so close to Layna’s family. Jamey had been sent to a juvenile facility where he would receive therapy to help him deal with the things that happened before and after the shooting. My parents also arranged for a tutor who specialized in dyslexia to be provided. By the time Jamey was released, he’d graduated from high school. Because he was tried as a juvenile, his records were sealed. He went on to community college and became a paramedic and then joined the fire department. He also did community outreach for at-risk youth through the foundation my parents had created after the shooting.
Their contact had been initiated through letters sent between our parents. Maria and Sam wanted to give back the blessing they had received. When Maria retired from teaching, she came on board to work for the foundation. She went back to college and trained with the tutor who helped Jamey, and began to work with schools and parents to help educate them on identifying learning disabilities and creating education plans tailored to the student’s needs, as well as spotting the signs that a child was at risk.
Through tragedy, our parents had formed an unlikely friendship. They chose to make something positive out of the events that had altered their lives. Instead of hate and bitterness, they’d taken the path of understanding and forgiveness. There was a lot I could learn from them, but I wasn’t ready to meet the rest of the Delacroix family.
My parents told me how perilous Brett’s life had been in the months after the embolism and how they came to the fateful decision not to tell me. I couldn’t say I agreed with them, but I also knew I shouldn’t hold it against them. They’d made the best decision they could in a bad situation. I understood that, however misguided their choice had been, it had been made with the best of intentions. It would take me months of therapy to finally get to that point, but I would get there. It came down to one choice: I could either accept the return of my brother as a blessing, or let hate rob me of happiness once again. I chose to focus on the blessing, and I did my best to understand the position my parents were in at the time they’d made their choice.
About ten days after I arrived at my parents’ house, Touch, Bow, Joker, Ruff, and Patsy showed up. I was happy to see them—even Patsy—especially when Barrett laughed as she jumped in his lap and licked his face. She curled up and slept as he stroked her back.
“Brett, these are my bandmates. You could have put any of them to shame.” Pointing to each of them, I introduced them. “This is Touch, Bow, Joker, and Ruff, and that,” I said, pointing to the dog, “is Patsy.”
We all sat and stared at each other for a while. Touch was the first one to speak up. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for my part in all of this. I made the decision to contact your parents. I got their number out of your phone and went to see them. I didn’t know their entire plan to help you, but I knew enough, and the part I didn’t know I put together when we met Layna. None of the other guys knew anything until that day at my house, so don’t hold this against them.
“And I apologize for Kaitlyn. I talked to her and she suggested I do some research and told me where to look, but I didn’t think anything more about it. Honestly, I don’t think she set out to do what she did. It was more like an opportunity appeared and she took it. She hadn’t had a chance to dig up everything. She pieced together the shooting, and I think she was starting to suspect Barrett hadn’t died, but she hadn’t uncovered exactly what happened to him or who the shooter was by name. I trusted her and I shouldn’t have, but again, that’s on me, nobody else. I destroyed her computer, but I know that wasn’t enough; however, between your family’s and the label’s attorneys, she knows better than to try to divulge what she knows, and anybody who was interested quickly realized they would lose a hell of a lot more than they gained if they ran anything she gave them as a story. They’d get their scoop, but would be pretty much out of business afterward.”
“Thanks,” I told him. “And I’m sorry for the things I said to you. I said them in anger, which should never be done, but I was too far gone to think rationally at that moment. I’m not mad at you and I don’t hold anything against you. And I owe all of you an apology.”
“You don’t owe us an apology,” Bow spoke up.
“Yes, I do. I lied to all of you by omission for years. But when I went to college, I set out to make a new life, and I thought to do that I had to completely forget the past. I never planned on being in a successful band, nor did I know what my secrets could mean to all of you.”
“Dude, you’re—like—loaded, so why the hell were you schlepping around with us? Did you think you were doing us a favor?” Joker spoke up. There was an edge of accusation to his questions.
“First off, I’m not loaded. My parents have money, but it’s not mine. I’m worth about the same as all of y’all. Second, I’ve schlepped around—as you called it—with you guys because y’all made me feel like I was accepted for just being Brandon Carmichael, a dude who could make music with you. The only time I’ve ever used my p
arents’ money was for the first tour buses and the separate hotel rooms, because I had nightmares—sometimes they occur more frequently than at other times—and I didn’t want to risk one of you asking about them. And they advanced me the money on my condo, because me living in a safe place made them feel better. I paid them back as soon as I made enough money.
“So before y’all start thinking I was just using this band as some sort of side project for my personal entertainment, I put what heart and soul I had left into this band and the four of you—” Pasty lifted her head and barked “—okay, five of you, were my family for years, and I’m not turning my back on that, but I need to take some time to get myself healthy.”
“We want you to take as long as you need,” Ruff said. “We’ll be there when you’re ready. We’re sorry that we didn’t pay attention to the signs that you needed help before things went so far.”
“I was really good at hiding it. Sometimes so good I even hid it from myself,” I admitted.
We talked for a little longer. They told Brett more stories from our life on the road, each one trying to top the last with a more outrageous story. Brett laughed at their antics. He was enraptured with Patsy, and I had a feeling a dog would be in his future. Maybe a service dog. I’d have to look into it.
The guys and I ended up having a jam session over the next few days. My parents had saved all of Brett’s and my instruments. Brett was in heaven as he listened to the music we’d created. He’d been a big part of it, even though he hadn’t been there when any of it was written.
By the time they left, they had a standing invitation to my parents’ home, and Brett had gained four new brothers and a four-legged sister. Damn dog.
FOUR MONTHS HAD PASSED SINCE the guys came for their first visit. They’d been out to visit three other times since then. I’d gone back to therapy with my psychologist from the hospital. Our progress was good. He helped me process what happened and made me realize how I had been frozen in time at the age of sixteen in a lot of ways, and how I had developed coping mechanisms to stop myself from facing things I didn’t feel ready for. We dealt with my anger at my parents and at Layna. I realized she’d been influenced by the sense of guilt her family still felt about what James had done, and with her caring heart, she thought she could help.
My parents explained that the money they offered Layna had been put in an account, but it had never been accessed. They’d also set up another account to cover her miscellaneous living expenses while she’d been with me, but the funds sat untouched. The only thing my parents had been able to payoff was all of her outstanding debt. Apparently, they’d had help gathering the account information and had done what they could to help right the wrong they’d done to her as well. “We should have known Layna wouldn’t end up taking the money,” my mom said. “It’s not in her nature, but we were too blinded by our own worries to stop and consider what we were doing to her.” When they suggested hiring a private investigator to locate Layna, I vetoed the idea. One, because I wasn’t sure I could stop myself from going to wherever she was, and two, because I wanted to be worthy of her when I did find her. There was still a lot of baggage I needed to sort through before I took that step.
I spent most of my free time with Brett. We swam in the heated pool. He loved being in the water; it gave him freedom. We went for drives in his custom cart. We fed the fish in the pond. I watched way more Disney movies and musicals than I ever wanted to admit. I even snuck The Rocky Horror Picture Show in when my parents were out, and Brett loved it.
About two months into therapy, I contacted Chelsea. I wanted to apologize to her for the secrets that I’d kept. I could finally accept that I was no longer to blame for what happened, but I also had to accept that if I had been open and honest with everyone from the beginning, things would have most likely not escalated to the point they did, forcing all of us to live with the consequences.
I found out she’d become an art teacher and mentored at-risk students. She told me that she traveled to area schools to tell them our story and how important taking time to think about the consequences of their actions was to their future. It was another initiative through my parents’ foundation.
A few weeks after we first began talking, she invited me to come watch her speak at a local school. I’d driven down, unsure if I was going to go through with it, but when I saw Chelsea walking across the parking lot, I knew I had to take this step.
When she saw me, she stood there for a few seconds before she hugged me. She stepped back and said, “It’s good to see you, Brandon.”
“You, too,” I told her, and I meant it. I was happy that she’d made something of her life.
I sat in the back of an auditorium as she talked to the students. She started out by telling them her story. The story about how she met a boy and how all of the events that followed led to all of our lives being forever changed. She pointed out all of the mistakes she made. Never once did she talk about the blame that should be placed on anyone else. Listening to her, I realized how much blame and guilt we all carried with us.
Not one of the three of us made a single decision that caused the events that altered our lives. It was a convergence of coincidences and bad choices. If any one of those things had been different, our lives would have probably followed a different path. I couldn’t say it was the path we should have been on, nor was I sure if the path we traveled now was the one we were meant to be on. I wasn’t that philosophical yet.
After her talk with the students ended, she and I went for coffee. She told me how she decided to become a teacher. Maria had actually helped her decide. Chelsea was still an artist at heart, and I could see that she loved sharing art with the next generation.
We tiptoed around the subject of boyfriends and girlfriends until I finally broached the subject. “Do you see yourself getting married and having a family?”
“No, not really. I’m not opposed to it, but I’ve never found the person worth risking heartbreak for, ya know? It took a long time to get over the first one.”
I knew exactly what she meant, except I had found the person worth risking heartbreak for, and I’d wound up with the broken heart to show for it. My feelings for Layna were still a jumbled mess I was trying to sort through. I still wasn’t sure if I was actually angry at her, or if I was just angry about everything that had happened and was taking it out on her.
When Chelsea and I parted, I felt peace that I’d faced another part of my past and it wasn’t nearly as awful as I remembered it being.
Now, two months later, I was knocking on Leta’s door. I’d gotten to know Leta as she cared for Brett. It was clear he adored her and the feeling was mutual. She had a loving heart, just like her sister. I was here today to ask the question I’d wanted to ask for months.
“Oh, hi, Brandon,” she said in surprise. “Does Barrett need something?”
“No,” I said. “May I come in? I was hoping we could talk.”
“Okay.” She stepped back, opening the door wider so I could pass.
I sat on the couch, clasping my hands together to keep from fidgeting. “How is she?” I blurted out.
“Why do you want to know?” She didn’t bother pretending not to know who I was talking about, which I appreciated.
“Because—” I paused to find the right words “—because I care.”
“You care,” she repeated. “Sorry, not good enough.”
“I know it’s not good enough, but the things I need to say need to be said to Layna.”
“Can’t help you.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Six of one, half dozen of the other,” was her cryptic response. “It doesn’t really matter, because I don’t know where she is. As far as we know, she’s only told one person where she’s living.”
I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like the answer to the next question. “Who did she tell?”
“Can’t tell you that either. She said you would figure it out if you wanted to know
badly enough. Personally, I think she overestimated you.”
“Jesus, what the hell did I do to you?”
“You hurt someone I care about.”
“And I don’t deny it, nor do I excuse it, but you have no right to judge me. You think you know everything because you’ve been here all this time, but you don’t know what I lived with for the last thirteen years, so until you do, don’t pass your final judgment.”
“Fair enough,” she conceded.
“Where do I find him?”
For the second time that day, I knocked on a door, hoping to get the answer to my question.
“What can I do you for, man?” James said as he rubbed his eyes and yawned, clearly not checking to see who I was first. “Shit.” He figured it out.
“I take it Leta didn’t call to warn you I was on my way.”
It took him a second to respond. “She may have. I just came off a forty-eight-hour shift and was catching up on some sleep. I turned my phone off.”
“May I come in? I’d like to talk to you.”
He looked like he’d never considered that I would ever want to talk to him. “Yeah, sure, come in.”
I followed James into his living room. “Uh, have a seat. I’m going to throw on some coffee. Would you like anything?”
Yes, your sister’s whereabouts didn’t seem like the right way to ask, so I told him no thanks instead.
We sat there awkwardly before James spoke up. “I’m sorry to be so nervous. In all the years I’ve known your family, I never thought I would actually meet you. I’ve had this speech I rehearsed over and over again, in case I ever got the chance to talk to you, and now I can’t remember most of it, and the parts I do remember aren’t enough to say how sorry I really am.”
“I think you’ve apologized enough for the mistake you made thirteen years ago. It’s time we all move past it.” I looked James in the eye, man to man. We were no longer boys who thought we had all of the answers. The two of us knew that sometimes there was no clear-cut answer.
“Thank you. I hope I can be worthy of the forgiveness and second chance I’ve been given.”
