“Hey, Al.”
My hand covers my mouth. Tears fill my eyes seeing him again. The sound of his voice echoes inside my chest. It’s bittersweet. A joyful kind of pain that carries a burst of sadness and a strange kind of comfort.
“If you’re watching this, well, it means I’m not with you anymore. I’m sorry about that. I never wanted you or Mom to have to go through this. I’m kind of curious about where I ended up. Am I in the sky? Am I a ghost? Maybe I’m the air all around you. Who knows? I kind of hope I’m a ghost, though. Haunting you would be pretty fun.
“On a serious note, I just wanted you to know, it was the absolute coolest getting to be your big brother. Yeah, sure, you could be a brat, but you made my life interesting. Watching you grow up into the awesome woman you are today was pretty cool, too. And that house I was saving up for? It’s yours now. Mom has the details. Unlikeyou, she actually sat down and discussed all this with me.”
His mock glare fades, and he takes a deep breath.
“It’s gonna be okay. It might not feel like it now, but I promise it will be. Just do me a favor. Keep living, all right? Travel. Settle down. Get married. Adopt a dog. Whatever. Just…be happy. And take care of Mom.
“Oh and one more thing.”
He reaches off camera and brings his guitar into frame and places it in his lap. He flashes the camera a cheeky grin and then begins to pluck the strings in a rudimental version of “Hot Cross Buns.”
I laugh, but even to my own ears, it sounds more like a sob.
He goes through the song once and stops. With a soft smile, he looks right at me. “I love you, sis.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper, and this time, I know for certain that he can hear me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Julia
The sun is shining, and the smell of freshly cut grass and charcoal fills the air. Dad grills street corn and hot dogs while I help Mom dump the steaming hot shrimp into two large bowls beside the piles of crabs.
Mom stands with her hands on her hips and inspects everything while I add a few rolls of paper towels along the picnic tables. Once it’s clear she’s satisfied, she puts her arm around my shoulders and focuses her attention on me. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”
It’s a loaded question, one that I’m fairly certain is in reference to this very moment and not directly in relation to both Mason’s death and my recent split with Brian.
“Well…” I take a deep breath to try and pinpoint exactly how I’m feeling. “I’m okay. I managed to get a few hours of sleep last night, so that helps. I’m also happy to be here and celebrate Dad’s birthday.”
“And we’re happy to have you.” She pulls me into a hug and kisses the side of my head. “We worry about you.”
“I know. But I’m okay. Honest.” And that’s the truth. It’s been hard, and, yeah, there are some days where I remember that my life has been completely upended and struggle to get out of bed. But then there are days where I remind myself that things will get better. I just have to be patient and give it time.
Mom gives me an extra squeeze and rubs my back. “It must feel good having Alex home, though, right?”
“Yeah, it’s been nice.” That’s another truth. Even if rebuilding ourfriendship and trust has been a process, it’s also been healing in ways I couldn’t imagine.
“It’s so good to see you two together again.” My mom looks at something over my shoulder and perks up. “Oh, Lina and Richard are here.”
Alex’s mom and stepdad cross the backyard with a few packs of beer and an extra bag of ice. Mom instantly rushes to help them while I make last-minute adjustments to the table.
“Happy birthday, Mr. Marrow,” Chloe calls from the back door of my house at the same time and holds up a neatly wrapped box.
Dad leaves the grill long enough to give Chloe a hug and excitedly takes the package. “Thank you, Chloe. I’m glad you could join us. No Dominic?”
“No, he picked up some side work. Moving to Seattle ain’t cheap.”
“Movinganywhereain’t cheap,” Lina adds as she passes, and I swear she sounds like a perfect combination of Mason and Alex. She pulls me in for a hug. “How are you holding up?”
I still feel like that’s a question I should be asking her. “I’m okay. How areyou?”
“I’m okay.” She smiles in a way that says it’s a lie, but she’s clearly trying to be. It’s a smile I know well, considering I see it every time I look in the mirror.
Richard rips open the bag of ice to pour in the coolers, and half of it spills into the yard. Lina fondly rolls her eyes and leaves me to help her husband, muttering something about men and patience.
