Make Music With Me

by Kristine Allen

  “Your brother, Lucas, was killed in a car accident. As soon as we received the message, we brought you back. Your emergency leave has already been approved and I’ve arranged for your transport back to Fort Lewis. You need to pack your bag and be ready to roll out in an hour. Again, son, I’m so damn sorry.”

  Stumbling a step back, I fought for air as the earth opened beneath my feet.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? This has to be a sick joke.” Decorum was out the window, a victim to my pain and disbelief.

  “I wish it was, son. If there is anything you need before you leave or even after you get back, you just let us know. You understand?” The commander’s gruff words barely registered in my spinning brain.

  “What about Poppy?” Imagining a life without either Lucas or Poppy was worse than anything in the world. My head was spinning, and I felt sick to my stomach.

  “Poppy?” Top asked with confusion knitting his brow.

  “His fiancée.” The word fiancée was spat through gritted teeth. Saying it sliced my heart nearly as bad as the thought of her being gone. I hated myself a little for still feeling that way after learning my brother was gone.

  “We were only told there was an accident and your brother was a fatality.”

  I needed to try to call her ASAP. After being released, I stopped by our sat phone tent and dialed the number I knew by heart. When it went straight to voicemail, I called Logan, knowing my parents would be a mess.

  “Hello?” The phones we called from were set to be random untraceable numbers, so the hesitation in my baby brother’s voice was no surprise.

  “Logan, it’s Levi. Goddamn, I don’t even know what to say. How are you? How are Mom and Dad?”

  “Fuck, man, not good. We just flew down here to get him and see Poppy. Dad says Mom hasn’t stopped crying since they got the call. The whole time I’ve been with them she been a basket case. Dad’s not saying much because he’s trying to stay strong for Mom, but he’s hurting bad, Levi. I didn’t want them to go without me, so I took off work. Not that I know what the fuck to do to fix anything.” The crack in his voice was followed by a muffled sound. Knowing he had covered the phone to collect himself, I dropped my head to the desk. I hated that I wasn’t there for my family. “Sorry, bro. This is just… fucked. I don’t know.” A sniff followed his softly spoken words.

  “I understand. I still can’t wrap my head around it. Was… was Poppy with him?” Even though part of me really didn’t want to know, the other part of me had to know.

  “Yeah… she’s in ICU. She’s bad. Fuck she’s bad, but they said they think she’ll pull through. Her mom was in her room when we stopped by. We didn’t stay long because they have her sedated.”

  I fought like a motherfucker to hold myself together, every cell of my body trembling.

  “Jesus. Okay. I’m on my way home. I have no idea when I’ll get there, but I’m on my way. Please tell Mom and Dad?” With his promise to pass my message on, we ended the call and I headed to pack.

  Word travels fast in JSOC, and several of my teammates were waiting outside my CHU (Containerized Housing Unit) when I arrived. They hadn’t been part of the mission I’d just been pulled from, which explained how they knew and had rallied to my side.

  “Mac, fuck, I don’t even know what to say.” Staff Sergeant Reeves was the first to speak.

  Not trusting my words, I mutely nodded before entering my living quarters. Chest heaving for air, I grabbed my rucksack from my wall locker and began to shove items in it with shaking hands.

  The guys continued to silently stand just inside my CHU and in the doorway. Sergeant Bechman stepped forward just as the pain caught up and crushed me.

  Brought me to my knees.

  In front of men who’d seen what I was capable of, I shattered.

  Then I went berserk. Trashed my CHU. Nothing in there mattered to me anymore. Knowing I needed space, they all silently stepped outside.

  The trip home was a blur, as I was so lost in my own damn head I was merely going through the motions.

  Before I made it back, my parents had arrived home with my brother’s body.

  Flying home in the jump seat of a C-130 is the suckiest way to fly, but it was the quickest way to get me back at the time, and straight to post so I could get my vehicle. We flew right into Gray Army Airfield while a fine mist filled the air.

  The drive from Fort Lewis to Seattle was one of the worst of my life. Having that time where I could only circle inside my own head nearly drove me insane. Blaring heavy metal through my speakers did little to drown out the voice that screamed I was a shitty brother.

  I had coveted my brother’s woman, and now he was dead.

  It should’ve been me. It should’ve fucking been me.

  “Wash It All Away”—Five Finger Death Punch

  It was a drunk driver who stole Lucas from me. Over and over, I asked myself how a senseless accident could steal such a wonderful person like Lucas but leave me behind. I couldn’t fathom it. It was completely beyond my comprehension and I was still trying to come to grips with it weeks later.

  The what-ifs ripped me apart. What if we had left the house when we were supposed to? What if we had taken just a little longer to get ready? What if we had taken a different route? Would he still be here?

  My battered body lay in intensive care for four days thanks to my head evidently hitting the dash and the side window. Concerned with swelling on my brain, they had kept me sedated the whole time I was there. After that I spent a couple of miserable days on a Med/Surg unit. During that time, my mind was a million miles away. While I was still in ICU, Lucas’s parents had come down to claim…. Anyway, they came down.

  Vague memories of his mom crying and holding my hand haunt me. My mom told me I was pretty drugged up for the first several days and mostly slept. Definitely not the way I planned or wanted to meet them. Hell, it wasn’t how I’d planned my life.

  Thanks to being T-boned on my side, I suffered a few cracked ribs. Facial bruising and a cheek fracture with two black eyes were courtesy of the whack on the dash. Then I had minor cuts and scratches, whiplash, a dislocated shoulder, a fractured humerus and a sprained wrist. Internal bleeding had been a problem when my small intestines had been perforated thanks to the seat belt. Of course, without a seat belt, I’m sure I would’ve fared much worse.

  The worst part was, I couldn’t seem to process how my injuries were so relatively minor, but Lucas was gone. My heart had been ripped from my chest and was lost to me forever. All that existed was this nagging ache in the cavity where it used to be. It still hurt to breathe and it had nothing to do with my ribs.

  They told me I should take my pain medications and it would help ease the pain so I could use the incentive spirometer. Still, I refused them. They said it was so I wouldn’t get pneumonia.

  Like I cared.

  Besides, the pain was my penance for surviving when Lucas didn’t, and served as a reminder that I was still here… alone. Then there was the insidious thought that losing Lucas was my punishment for not being as sure of our relationship as I acted. Yes, I loved him. What was not to love? But, there were those times when it was as if I was in a play that no one else knew we were in. It made me feel horrible.

  I vacillated between anger, grief, and depression daily. Stages of grief, my ass. I felt them all. Every. Single. Day. Why was I always being left behind? First my father, then my grandmother… and now Lucas. Tears slipped over my cheeks as I sat on the couch looking out my living room window. Cars went by, people walked their dogs, children played and squealed, but I barely noticed any of the details.

  After I was discharged from the hospital, John told me to stay home for as long as I needed to recover. He’d hired a temp to help out while I was incapacitated in the hospital and he said she was doing a good job—“not as good as you,” but of course he would say that—and I needed to heal. Like the great person he was, he checked on me every day. Once again, he was acting like
a dad to me. While it made me feel loved, it made me miss my dad something fierce.

  Granted, John was more than just my boss. Though I tried to keep our relationship on the down-low at work, he and my dad had grown up together, living at each other’s houses every weekend, playing football together and fishing… you name it.

  John had known my mom since the day my dad met her in college, and was even there the day I was born. He’d really been a second dad to me my whole life. Especially since my dad died when I was a freshman in college.

  I’d lost my Grams shortly after my dad. Losing her only son after losing her husband the year before was probably the catalyst to Grams’s decline in health. She had raised me as much as my parents had and I missed the hell out of both of them. To top off my shit sandwich, Lucas was now part of that list.

  My mom had stayed with me for the first couple of weeks. Sad as it may seem, Lucas’s death seemed to have brought us closer together. But since she left to go home, I’d been simply going through the motions of living. She called me every day, and I said what I needed to say to ease her mind.

  Lucas and I had tickets to fly up to Seattle in a little over a month. Well, I guess I did. John told me he would call the airlines and get a refund on Lucas’s seat, but I refused. It seemed just… I don’t know… too final if I cancelled my ticket. It was stupid, but I didn’t want to make those decisions. Just like I couldn’t go through his things yet. In the back of my mind, if his things were still here, he would come back for them.

  Sighing, I blinked listlessly. My seat on that flight would still be used.

  The decision to bring Lucas’s personal effects home to his family weighed heavy on me. His parents hadn’t wanted to go through his things when they were here, so when I offered to bring them the few things they could think of, they were grateful. It wasn’t going to be any easier for me to do it, I knew, but I’d told them I would. It must have been during one of the times I’d actually taken the pain meds.

  Evidently, I was a glutton for punishment. And since I had missed his small family funeral due to being in the hospital, I really wanted to be there for his memorial. God, I needed the closure. At least, I hoped it would help.

  My phone rang and I looked at it with complete disinterest. Seeing Trina’s face on the display, I knew she would just keep calling if I didn’t answer, so I slid my finger across the screen.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey girl, you doing okay today?”

  Why did people ask that? Hell no, I wasn’t okay and I probably wouldn’t be okay for a very long time. But since she asked a stupid question, I gave her a stupid answer.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do you need me to come over today instead of tomorrow?” Her voice was full of concern. Concern I didn’t want.

  She was going to help me pack up his clothes to be donated. His favorite AC/DC T-shirt was tucked under my pillow because it still smelled of him. I couldn’t part with it. Not yet. He had pulled it off to go to the gym the day he….

  Oh my God, is it always going to be so painful to think of him?

  I remembered seeing it right before we left the house that last night. Without a care in the world, he’d pulled on a clean button-up shirt, leaving the T-shirt on the chair in the bedroom to be picked up later….

  Shit. This is killing me slowly.

  “No. Not today.” Knowing my voice sounded lifeless, I couldn’t muster an ounce of normalcy.

  To top it all off, my period had started.

  No, Lucas and I hadn’t planned to have children. I’d only found out his thoughts on that subject that night. But now that he was gone, I’d hoped and prayed for a miracle. Prayed that I had conceived the last time we were together. Maybe it was ridiculous and dramatic, but I had hoped to be pregnant to have a part of Lucas with me to love and nurture.

  “Umm, okay. Then I’ll be there tomorrow morning. Okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay, hon.” Hesitation heavy in her voice, she paused and sighed. “I love you, girl.”

  “You too. Bye.” Without waiting for her to answer, I disconnected the call.

  My head fell back on the couch as I sobbed painfully at the vast emptiness that now existed within me. It was like I was utterly dead inside. Drying up like a husk of my former self.

  Why, God? Why did you take him and leave me? Was this my fault for having doubts at times? Why couldn’t I have had just one more day with him? They were the same questions I asked at least five times a day. Irrational as they may be, there were so many whys and not enough answers. All my endless questions cried out to a silent God as my grief ate me alive. It should’ve been gloomy outside to match my mood, not sunny and beautiful. It seemed like the earth should’ve been mourning the loss of someone as vibrant, loving, and good as Lucas had been.

  How is it even possible that the very heavens aren’t crying for the loss of his spark here on earth?

  “Tomorrow.” I spoke aloud to myself. Tomorrow I will gather his things and pack them in a suitcase to travel to Seattle.

  Just not today. Not yet.

  The only bright moments during that time were my conversations with Levi. Often, I wished he was here. He was the only one who could bring a smile to my face. Lifting my phone, I dialed Levi’s number. I needed to hear his voice.

  “Hey, babe. This is a surprise.” His voice caused my heart to stutter. It did so every time.

  “Hey. Today was a crappy day. I just needed to hear your voice.” For a moment I worried it was because I wanted to fool my heart into thinking it was Lucas. That thought was fleeting, because deep in my soul I knew that wasn’t true. I cared about Levi for himself. That was part of the problem and the root of why Lucas’s death left me feeling guilty.

  “This is the first time you’ve called me. Ever. Did you know that?”

  No, I hadn’t. That made me feel like a big, fat pile of shit. It made me realize how much I’d been leaning on him.

  “Now that you mentioned it, I do.” Sighing, I closed my eyes. “How are you guys holding up?” Ugh, I just hated on Trina for essentially asking the same thing. Banging my head on the couch, I chastised myself.

  “It’s been hard all the way around. We’re hanging on the best we can. I’m working on getting all the shit done that I need to do to get out of the Army, and going home on the weekends to check on everyone. I’m sorry it’s been a shitty day. If I could, I’d fly down there to be your shoulder.”

  “Exactly how big are those shoulders? It seems like you have a lot of people leaning on them. I’m worried we’re taking advantage of those shoulders of yours.” This was exactly what I needed to put everything in perspective. My grief was debilitating at times, but there were a lot of other people who had lost him. His death had left a void in so many lives.

  Lucas had been Levi’s big brother. I’d only found out they were twins a couple of weeks before the accident. The whole “big brother/little brother” was a joke with them in reference to the roughly ten minutes separating them. Twins.

  Talking to him made me worry that his family and I were expecting too much of him.

  His chuckle made my mouth curl with a joy that was lacking lately. “They’re big enough. Don’t you worry about me.”

  For the next thirty minutes we talked about the band’s plans, his excitement to finally have something good to look forward to, and his relief at getting out of the Army.

  “It’s been a hell of a ride, but I’m ready to get out, you know? Anyway, I need to get going. I’m heading up to Seattle and I need to pack a bag still. If I’m late for dinner, Mom will have my ass. I’ll give you a call once I’m on the road. Okay?” I hated to let him go, but I knew I couldn’t be selfish with his time, even though I wanted to hoard every second of it.

  “No problem. Thank you for talking to me. I really do feel better. You don’t have to call me back. I’m good. Drive safe, okay?” After securing his promise that he’d indeed drive carefully, I ended the call.
Since the accident, I was so worried about him driving. Hell, I was worried about everyone close to me.

  Holding the phone to my chest as I smiled, I wondered why my stomach felt like it was doing hula hoops.

  “Angel of Mercy”—Black Label Society

  The small family funeral had been sheer hell.

  Seeing yourself lying dead and cold in a coffin was enough to really fuck with your head. Realizing it was literally your other half was worse. People who have never lost a twin have no idea of the significance. It’s an eerie thing, to feel the void left in the universe. A sense of emptiness so intense, it left me feeling eviscerated.

  Every time I looked in the mirror, it was a reminder of my loss. It made me want to shatter every fucking mirror in the house. It had been almost two months and I was exhausting myself trying to hold my family together.

  My parents were still mere shadows of themselves. No one in the house really spoke to each other. Logan had left home right after the funeral and returned to his apartment. I was worried about him, because every time I called him, he was drunk. I couldn’t help but believe Poppy’s visit was going to be good for everyone.

  After she’d been released from the hospital, I’d spoken to her as often as I could. Talking to her then was like talking to a zombie. With a listless voice, she had answered my questions, but offered nothing freely.

  The day she’d actually called me for the first time was when she’d finally begun to sound more like the Poppy I knew. She’d even begun to laugh at my stupid jokes that I’d intentionally used to draw that exact response from her. It was a relief to know she was healing.

  Her laughter made my heart sing. Like a junkie, I craved it. So when my phone rang and her number flashed on the display, my heart jumped and my hands shook. Fuck.

  “Hey, beautiful.” I mentally smacked myself upside the head. Why the fuck had I called her beautiful? Not that it wasn’t true, but I shouldn’t have said it.