ONE YEAR LATER
Iadjust the tie around my neck for the fifth time in ten minutes. It just doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t look right, either.
I’ve only worn a tie on two occasions in my seventeen years on this earth.
The first was a year ago at my mother’s funeral.
And the second, is today.
The two days couldn’t be more different, yet for me, they’re much the same.
Because while some people gather to celebrate the life of a loved one that has passed, I celebrated her death.
I was a broken boy the night she decided to pop one pill too many and choke on her own vomit on the floor of our living room. But I wasn’t broken in the way one should be after finding a parent dead.
I was broken because after sixteen years of living in hell, I was finally free.
The burden had finally been lifted.
I knew that no matter what happened that night; whether the CPR worked or not, I was getting out of those shackles that had been weighing me down all my life.
I was getting away fromher.
My freedom came in the form of curly brown hair and a man taking a chance on a random kid.
Daisy and Killian.
When I approached Killian in the street over a year ago and asked him for a job, I never could have predicted my life would end up here.
Which brings me to today. The second time I’ve ever worn a tie in my life.
Their wedding day.
A celebration of their future.
The real celebration of life.
Technically they’re already married, but Daisy was gone for a long time and after they rekindled, they decided to have a do-over of the wedding day she ran out on the first time.
I never did find out the reason why she left Killian. I’ve always thought he was a great guy. He took a chance on me when others wouldn’t have. In the brief time I worked for him, he went out of his way to buy me the workwear I needed and allowed me extra time in the mornings to take Juliet to school.
Killian saved me.
Daisy did, too.
And I’ll never be able to repay them for that.
I don’t work for Killian anymore. One day, I hope to be back on his team, working alongside him, but for now, I spend my weekdays where I should be at my age. In school.
The door to my bedroom swings open and a blur of chestnut and pink comes bounding toward me as Juliet crashes into my legs.
“JJ, look at my dress.” Juliet twirls in a circle, her chestnut curls flying and her skirt floating outward as she goes.
I kneel in front of her. “Wow, Lettie.” I use the nickname I gave her the moment she was born. “You look beautiful.”
“She sure does,” another voice says from the doorway and I look up, finding Daisy leaning against the frame, her hair pulled back in a stylish updo, and her makeup done to perfection.
She looks really pretty.
