Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
My gaze tightens, brows drawn together, and I take another swig. “It was a long time ago. We were kids, and then we weren’t.”
I tell her how Skylar was three years older. He died at fifteen. Banks and I were twelve at the time. “His death caused a lot of friction in my family.”
I notice her lips slowly parting in realization. She’s adding up pieces. “You were twelve when your parents divorced, weren’t you?”
I nod.
Same age as my brother’s passing.
More dawns on her. How I was around twelve, thirteen when I was adamant I’d join the military.
I’ve also told Jane that I’m not close to my dad. Not since the divorce. We only really talk about football.
I pass back the whiskey. “When my brother died, my dad said a lot of things. Things that he thought he could never take back. To my mom. To Banks. To me.”
“To you?” She draws nearer, her knees almost knocking into my legs. “You were only twelve.”
I’ll never forget the blackout rage on my dad’s face. “He probably would’ve lashed out at a fucking garden gnome that night.”
Jane hugs the bottle to her chest. “Has he ever mentioned it? That night and what he said to you?”
“Hell no.” I shake my head a couple times. “He’s too ashamed.”
Instead of making it right, he just withdrew. Became distant. He never showed me how to seek forgiveness, ask for it or accept it. Just to take fault for my mistakes.
To carry blame.
I’m good at that. But I’m not him. If I were, I would’ve never walked over to Jane on the beach in Greece and tried to right what I’d wronged.
“My mom wasn’t doing well,” I explain, a pit in my ribs. There’s not a word to describe my mom around this time. Eviscerated seems too light. “But we were all lucky.”
She hands back the whiskey without taking a sip. “In what way?”
“We had my grandma.” I tell Jane how Carol Piscitelli, my four-foot-eleven grandma, packed up our small, one-bedroom apartment and found us a row house to live in.
She moved in with us.
She got my mom back on her feet.
She made sure that we kept our heads up. “We didn’t have a lot of things growing up,” I tell Jane. “But we had family.”
At a time where we were starved for anything but emptiness and grief, our grandma gave so much love.
“She sounds like a beautiful person,” Jane tells me, her soft smile so genuine. “I’d love to meet her and your mom one day—if appropriate. I know it may not be possible for security reasons, but I just…” She takes a measured breath. “They seem quite lovely, is all.”
My chest rises. “They’d like to meet you.”
She smiles more. “They would?”
I nod and I put the rim of the bottle to my mouth. Taking another swig. I watch a thousand other questions rush through her eyes.
She smooths her lips repeatedly. Contemplating what to ask.
She’s quiet for a while, and I almost move closer. I almost brush a strand of frizzed hair off her cheek. I almost pull her onto my lap.
Don’t touch her.
My muscles tense, and I look her over. “What are you most curious about?”
She’s wary. “That’s an incredibly dangerous thing to ask, you realize.”
“I’m good to go.” I nod to her. “Shoot.”
“What did your dad tell you that night?”
I figured this could’ve been on her mind. And I’ve never told this to anyone. Never repeated it. But I just let it out now. “He said I should’ve biked harder.” Off her confusion, I explain the rest.
How my brother died.
He used to bike out to a quarry. He’d sneak a few beers to drink, throw rocks, and swim. Sometimes alone, sometime with friends. Always to let off steam.
Occasionally he’d let me and Banks tag along. One night, I heard him sneak out, and I knew he was probably headed there.
I asked my mom if I could go with Sky. She said yes. I followed on my bike.
I was slower up hills. I left probably fifteen minutes after him.
When I got there, I dropped my bike and ran straight in the water. Skylar had jumped off a common diving point. But it was dark. No moonlight. The water was too shallow, and he hit rock.
He ended up unconscious in the water around ten minutes before I showed up.
There wasn’t anything I could do. But I tried.
I was strong for twelve.
I learned I was stronger than Sky, and I wished I’d seen how badly he coped with our strict dad. I wished he didn’t go to that fucking quarry and horse around.
And I wished I could’ve taken the burden off him like I did Banks.
I dragged him out of the water, and my gold chain twisted on the gold chain around his neck. Our cornics stuck together.