Angie straightens and sucks in a breath when she sees her parents' car, followed by my parents not far behind. Our hands intertwine, holding each other tightly as we watch them survey us from their respective front seats before getting out. To most, having the son and daughter of two best friends dating is a dream. And maybe that’s what our moms talked about once upon a time, but now I’m sure they see it as a nightmare.
“Hi,” we greet our parents when they stand feet away from us.
It’s one thing to lose a child. It’s another to lose them at the hands of someone who was a part of your family. And to finally see these former best friends in the same vicinity as the other is a mind-trip.
“What’s the meaning of calling us here, Brandon?” my dad asks and I see Angie’s dad visibly flinch. They were best friends. If James and Liam were still alive, this is who they would look like.
“The truth is that we both miss our parents,” I say.
“Well, you know how this could have been avoided,” Angie’s mom snips.
“Mom,” Angie scolds and stands up, forcing our hands to unclasp. “Look, we’re sorry. Truly. It’s a shitty situation all around. But we are not sorry for falling in love. We are not sorry for wanting to spend our lives together. But throwing around James’s name and saying that he would be disappointed in us, when all we children do is strive to do the opposite, was uncalled for.”
My mom recoils as if someone physically struck her, but it’s the truth. Her saying that my brother would be disappointed in who I choose to be happy with stung more than anything she could ever say to me. I wonder if she regrets saying those words. Judging by her reaction, I’m sure they’vebeen bouncing around in her head for the last handful of months.
“Brandon and I are happy.Weare happy. And yes, we know that the relationship between our families broke the night my brother—” Angie pauses when she sees the distress on our parents’ faces.
“The night we lost Liam and James,” I say, stepping in and attempting to soothe the pain. “I vowed to myself that I never wanted to fall in love after witnessing Emily’s grief. But I did. Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, I want to spend the rest of my life with Angie, and one day I plan to marry her. This isn’t a shock to her, because she already knows this. She is kind, sensitive, creative, sad, and has so much love to give to someone, and for some reason, she chose me after nobody chose her. So, me telling you that I plan to marry Angie isn’t me asking for permission.”
“So what is the point of us being here?” Mom asks.
“We’re tired of this rift,” I say exasperatedly.
“It is not as simple as a rift and you know it,” Dad bellows.
“Mr. Hayes, I know that you miss your son. I miss my brother. But even if I had another sibling, he wouldn’t fill that void. Just like the sons that you have here, can’t fill the void of or erase James.” Dad flinches and for good reason. I think he’s forgotten that James was not his only son and sometimes it’s hard to try to live up to expectations. “I may hate my brother for making me an only child, but being with Brandon, I’ve gotten three brothers that I never knew I needed. You raised four incredible men. They are compassionate, funny, ambitious, and sometimes a little lost because they’ve all forgotten which way was home throughout the years.”
A front door closing down the street, birds and ducksmaking noise in the lake that’s yards away are not as loud as the silence taking over this group.
“Whether or not you four can accept our relationship is up to you. If you need to talk to someone, then that’s up to you. And I hope you all do talk to someone. Because hoping that shared pain can bond you to people for life is not healthy. One day, we will be a family,” I say with my heart beating out of my chest. “We’re not suggesting you all have to be best friends or forget about the past. But dwelling on who we lost will ruin us. None of us can change the past. So, please—for our sake, can you all at least be cordial?”
I place my hands on Angie’s bare shoulders and wait, but all of my focus is on my parents. The hardset of my dad’s jaw and the trembling lip and tearful eyes of my mom. They can’t move on. And I know their answer before they open their mouths.
“I’m sorry,” Mom says and the tear that falls is like a boom of thunder shaking the ground we stand on. “I am glad that you’re happy, Brandon. But no.”
I gnash my teeth together to push off the onslaught of emotion that’s threatening to flow over.
“I’m with your mother on this,” Dad says, taking Mom’s hand in his. “We wish you both nothing but happiness. But we will not, and cannot, be included in this false version of a fairy tale.”
Angie reaches behind her and takes my hand in hers, squeezing as my parents walk away from us—from me. I swallow what feels like a boulder as I watch them get in their car and drive away without a backward glance. I’m living in that underwater feeling again as two of the most important people in my life leave.
“We didn’t react the best when you told us you two were together,” Angie’s mom begins, trying her best to blink awaytears. “We lost more than Liam and James that night. We lost our way. We lost our friends. Losing two important things in one night is not something I wish on anyone. Especially parents.”
I let that soak in. While I understand that my parents will probably never accept my relationship with Angie, cutting me out is something I don’t think I’ll come back from. I won’t and can’t be the person to repair what’s broken.
“It’s going to take us more time to accept you two as a couple. But we are happy that you two are happy,” her dad tells us.
“Thank you,” Angie whispers.
We stay rooted to the spot as Angie’s parents wave goodbye and head back to their car. Only when they’ve faded from view does Angie turn to me and stand on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and running her hands through my hair. I latch onto her, blinking fast as tears cloud my vision.
“It’s you and me, it’s you and me,” she repeats, over and over, as I let the dam of emotions break.
I wakeup in my bed hours later. The sun has begun to set and the lights of the bridge begin to decorate my room like it’s Christmas. I shoot my hand out for Angie, but all I feel is a cold space. Lifting my head, I see the pillow indent from where she was laying, but no Angie. I roughly rub my hands over my face and sit up.
When I wipe the sleep from my body, I hear the faint sound of a piano. Since I gifted the instrument to her, our home has been a concert hall of constant music. But it’s that sad melody that she played when I first found her on socialmedia—just looping over and over tonight. My phone buzzes with a text on the nightstand closest to me, and when I grab it, I swipe up.
Malcolm: I heard it didn’t go so well.
