More Than Lies

by N. E. Henderson

  “Tell us Brock was wrong and he isn’t…gone.” Even Bill can’t say the word either.

  I just shake my head because saying that ugly word again will be my breaking point, I’m sure of it.

  Pam’s sad eyes flick back and forth between Shane and me as if she’s unsure of whom to go toward first. Bill squeezes her shoulders before walking to Shane and pulling his son into a hug. Pam’s eyes remain on me.

  “Honey.” It’s the only thing that comes out of her mouth. Pam sort of has a pet name for not only her own two kids, but for Trent and me, too. She’s always called me Honey. I’m not sure why that’s my pet name, but it’s what she’s called me for as long as I remember. It’s rare I hear her call me by, Taralynn.

  She always refers to Shawn as baby, Shane’s bud or sometimes buddy, and Trent…Trent was kiddo, which never really fit in my opinion. Then again, I’ve never seen my brother as a kid.

  I walk to her and allow the warmth of her motherly arms to envelop me. I don’t break though. It’s hard, but the tears stay at bay. Normally, I don’t hind my emotions from Pam. She’s one of the few people I’m comfortable around just be me. I think I’m doing it more so to protect myself from more pain. I can’t handle more than I’m dealing with now.

  “So what happened last night, Shane?” It’s Shawn that voices his parents question again. I turn because I too would like to know the full story even if my heart isn’t prepared for it, yet.

  “We left a friend’s house and were heading home on Interstate 55. Kylie wanted to beat the New Year’s crowd and be able to see the ball drop on TV. Trent was on his motorcycle. Kylie and I were in her car, following. It was late, but it wasn’t that late. I guess the time of day doesn’t really matter when someone drank too much and decides to drive.”

  “What?” I ask, because I don’t want to assume my brother would do something so stupid. Trent’s smarter than that; he wouldn’t. “My brother wouldn’t drive after drinking. Especially not on his motorcycle.” I’m the one that’s gotten on the back of Jared motorcycle numbers times after drinking, sometimes too much. He doesn’t even carry a second riding helmet. What was I thinking?

  “Not, Trent, but the guy that hit him, I’m certain he was drunk.”

  “What makes you think that?” Bill inquires.

  “Seconds before he slammed into Trent’s bike, I noticed his car swerving. After Trent took the impact the car fishtailed into an embankment and the man was ejected from the vehicle. He was also pronounced on the scene.” He breathes. “I’m sure they’ll have to do an autopsy on him to confirm any traces of alcohol.”

  “Honey, grab your purse, okay. We’ll take you home.” Pam squeezes me before releasing me.

  My parents.

  I haven’t thought of them. God, I’m awful. What they must be going through at this very moment. I should be home.

  “I…I need to pack a few things. I don’t have clothes at my parents’ house.” Unlike, Pam and Bill’s house, there I have a dresser full of clothes.

  “Okay, we’ll leave when you are ready.”

  I look back toward Shawn before exiting the kitchen. His eyes are sympathetic, but otherwise I can’t read what he’s thinking. I can’t dwell on it either.

  It’s the day of Trent’s funeral.

  Man, it’s surreal. I just saw him a week ago on Christmas night at a party. It’s not like we were tight, but I sure as hell didn’t think I’d be standing in my old room at my parents’ house, in front of this mirror, putting on a black suit for this reason.

  I don’t think I’ve been to a funeral since I was a little kid and even then I don’t remember much about it other than the awkwardness of not knowing what to do or say when random people hugged me and started crying.

  Will that be me, today? No, it won’t, but I do know one person who will be in tears. I’m a master at masking my emotions; Tara isn’t, except for when it comes to her parents.

  I haven’t laid eyes on her in three days. She’s been at her parents’ house since my parents dropped her off Sunday morning.

  As I tighten the knot on my grey tie a sound draws my attention to the here and now. It’s a soft melody. I’ve heard it before and I’d know the sound anywhere. It’s been nearly ten years since Shane’s played his guitar.

  So why today I wonder.

  He didn’t stop playing because of Trent. He stopped because he lost Whitney. I was a kid in middle school back then, but even I know Shane loved her. Even though he won’t admit it, it’s also why he hasn’t moved on. I don’t think he can.

  I drop my hands from the fuck up job I’m doing. Yep, I’m a man that doesn’t know how to tie a tie.

  Walking out of my room I step into the hall and then make my way the short distance to Shane’s bedroom. I don’t knock; I doubt he’d hear the sound over the guitar. He’s also been distant. He won’t talk to our parents about how he’s coping. With the exception of yesterday, I’ve been here since Sunday afternoon. I had to reschedule my clients for today and I did the same for tomorrow too, but I went in yesterday,

  When I open the door, Shane is sitting on his bed with his back is leaned against the headboard, his legs are crossed, and his guitar is resting in his lap. He’s dressed the same as I am, but where I have shoes on, he doesn’t; just black socks with a black suit, and maybe the exact same grey tie I have on.

  I lean into the doorframe. He stops playing the moment he notices my presence.

  “Wanna talk about it?” He looks up.

  “Nothing to talk about.”

  “Bullshit.” I holler out. Pointing my finger in his direction, I tell him, “The guitar, the song, they both say differently, man. They tell me, you have something you need to get off your chest.”

  “Go away, Shawn. Not today.” He breathes hard.

  “Don’t play that card with me.” I shake my head to emphasize my point. “You’re not in here moping over your best friend’s death. You’re in here thinking about her.” He glares at me before cracking.

  “So what if I fucking am.” Shane shoves the guitar off his lap. “No one understands what I go through every day. What I’ve gone through and lived with for the last ten years.”

  “You’re right, I don’t, but if you’ve been keeping that shit bottled up that long it can’t be good, man.” I remember Whitney a little bit. When she wasn’t with my brother, she and Kylie were always together so I saw her from time to time when I would be over at Mason’s.

  “What would you know,” he snorts out. I’m sure most people would take offense to that, but not me. He’s right.

  “Not a damn thing. Doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me though. I am your brother.” His eyes soften slightly, but they also take on a deep sadness.

  “I feel fucking awful. Today is my best friend’s funeral. I’m not pissed that I’ll never see him again. I’m not reminiscing about all the things we’ve done. I’m too angry that I lost the only girl I’ve ever loved and I can’t get over her. It’s been ten years. A fucking decade and a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about her. She is the last thing I think about before sleep takes over and the first thing that crosses my mind when my eyes open in the morning.”

  “Shit, dude.” What do you say to all that? What do I say to all that?

  “You know,” he laughs but there isn’t a lick of humor behind it. “I was jealous. Jealous of Trent and Kylie and what they had and seeing them together every day, I envied them. I wanted that back. What they had, was taken from me and it wasn’t fair.” Another sardonic laugh drips from his lips. “That’s fucked up isn’t it?”

  “No.” I don’t think it’s messed up at all. “I think if I was in your shoes, I’d be angry with God, too.”

  “I’m not angry with God. God wasn’t the one that took her from me. Her asshole parents did.” That last sentence is full of resentment. Hatred even.

  “How did they cause her death?” Something isn’t adding up. Was she on some type of life support after the crash a
nd they decided to pull the plug?

  “Whitney isn’t dead.” He tells me, and then gives me a look like he thinks I’m stupid or something. If that’s true, then why aren’t they together if he’s so much in love with her? That is if she’s the one.

  “What? No, dude, I remember Mom and Dad telling you she didn’t make it after she was taken to the hospital.” I was young, but not young enough to have gotten that screwed up. I was in the room when they told him. I witnessed him break apart. That night was the only time I’ve ever seen Shane cry.

  “That was a lie.” Mom and Dad would never do that. “Her parents told Mom that. The next day Dad was rounding on patients in the ICU and he saw her. She didn’t die, but she was still unconscious at the time. Even though it violated HIPPA regulations and could have cost him his career, he told me. I’d never been so relieved and happy in my life. That was short lived when her parents wouldn’t allow me to see her. I tried, dude. I tried to get to her every way I could possibly think to try. Nothing I did worked. They kept her from me. They immediately transferred her to another hospital as soon as she woke up and then they moved.”

  That’s fucked up. That’s beyond jacked up. What kinds of people do that to kids?

  “I don’t know what to say, Shane. I can’t imagine something like that.”

  “Dad spoke to her attending physician. When she woke up, she didn’t remember anything. Her whole life before opening her eyes in a hospital, gone.”

  I guess that would be the reason they aren’t together now. If someone doesn’t remember you, if they don’t know you even exist, then how do you move forward with them? You can’t.

  “Do you think she ever gained her memory back?”

  “I don’t.” The way he says makes me think he knows more than he’s sharing.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “If Whit remembered us, if the girl I knew remembered herself then she would have found me.” I never knew how heartbroken my brother was. Damn. “A few months back I stumbled across her Facebook page. It didn’t tell me much except for the fact that she is married and has a kid.” Shit. This story keeps getting worse by the second.

  “Damn, brother, I’m sorry.”

  “The kid looked to be about a year or two. There weren’t any photos of her husband, which is probably a good thing, too. I don’t think I could have handled seeing that much of her new life. Whitney looked amazing, but not like my Whitney. She hated dresses. Refused to ever wear them to church on Sundays. Every photo on her page, she was in a dress. Reminded me of the way Taralynn dresses when she’s in her mother’s presence.” He pauses, taking in air through his mouth. “So, yeah, I don’t think she remembers me or anything else from before the accident.”

  “That’s rough, brother. I hate I never knew.” Why didn’t I know? He’s my brother. I should know that shit. This makes me realize just how far apart we are. I don’t like it. We’re family. Hell, my family is close, but where the hell have I been?

  “I’m done with this today. My mind should be on Trent.” Shane swings his legs off the bed and stands up. He looks at me and shakes his head. “You still can’t tie a tie for shit, can you?”

  “I’m not meant to wear these things.” I reach up and fist the material in my hands.

  “Come here, little brother, it’s time you man up and learn.”

  I walk toward him. That’ll never happen. Suits and ties aren’t for me. No woman will ever get me down an aisle in a monkey suit so why bother learning. While Shane jerks on the material, pulling me closer toward him, my mind flashes to Tara and impossible things that will never happen. I shove it away. No need to let a mind want things it won’t ever get.

  “Taralynn.” Her tone is a command from behind me that freezes my feet to the ground. I slowly twist around to face her, but not wanting to deal with whatever she’s going to throw my way now. She’s been impossible to deal with for the last three days. The morning Shane, followed by Pam and Bill showed up, I came home that afternoon or was brought home rather.

  The problem is, I don’t have my car. I’ve been stuck at home with my mother since Saturday. I’ve tried to help with arrangements and things, but everything I do is wrong. Everything I’ve always done is wrong so why would now be any different?

  “Yes, Mother?”

  Her eyes criticize me from head to toe. I can already tell she’s found something wrong with my choice of attire, although I haven’t the faintest idea how. I’m dressed in a solid black, sleeveless A-line dress that covers my chest and stops above my knees. I’m wearing the appropriate tan pantyhose and the black patent leather, closed toe Jimmy Choo pumps she bought me for Christmas. My hair is curled to perfection with a half up do and the length sitting past my shoulders. I’ve topped it off with black diamond studs in my ears. The only thing I can imagine is that I’m not wearing the black pull over jacket that goes with my dress to cover my arms.

  My mother tells me often, my arms aren’t slim enough to wear anything sleeveless. You would think, being as we are at my brother’s funeral, what I look like would be the last thing on her mind. I got hot in the jacket earlier and accidentally left it on my old bed at my parents’ house. I’m sure she’ll be happy to know that I’ve already regretted my error. I’m cold and nothing seems to warm the chill from my body.

  “Do you need something, Mother?” I ask again, drawing her eyes up to mine, finally. There isn’t one crack in her armor. You would never guess this is the mother of the man lying in a casket in the next room. How can she look so put together when I’m a wreck? The person I love the most is gone. I’ll never see Trent again. How am I supposed to be okay with that because I’m not?

  “Yes, I do.” She takes a deep breath, bringing air in through her mouth and exhaling the same way. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she does feel, but is trying hard to remain strong. I stopped trying to understand my Mother years ago. “I need you to tell Shane he’s needed as a pallbearer.”

  Has she lost her damn mind?

  “No, I won’t.” Shane is a mess right now. How could she fathom he could do that? She was supposed to arrange everyone needed for that. She knows plenty of people and my dad has a lot of relatives that can do that.

  “You will. I don’t have time for an argument with you today. Go.” She waves her hand, dismissing me.

  Not today.

  “I said, no, Mother.” I’ve never came right out and denied one of my Mother’s requests and I know my voice was much louder than I really intended. I don’t care though. This is the most absurd thing she’s ever asked. Shane was my brother’s best friend. She can’t expect this of him and I will not allow it. If that means standing up to the evil queen, then so be it.

  “Taralynn, keep your voice down,” I glance away from her, to see my father walking up next to her. “I do not need any extra stress today. Whatever it is your Katherine asked of you, please do it.” He always takes her side no matter what. Rarely does he ask what’s going on. He doesn’t even care and never has.

  “No, Dad, I won’t. And she can’t make me.” I cross my arms across my chest and stare my mother down. She’s livid. I can tell by the way her eyes are trained on me. They’re hard and her jaw is locked as if she’s trying to stop herself from saying something.

  “Tara?” His voice is questioning. “You okay?” Shawn’s hands land on my hips as his front meets my back. My body relaxes into his as if on reflex. I’m not stupid enough to think Shawn is doing this for any more reason that offering friendly comfort. I know, our one night together, the night of Trent’s death was a one-time deal. It’ll never happen again, but I’ll seek comfort of his arms as long as he’ll allow me.

  When I glance over toward my dad to make certain he understands my stance on his wife’s request, if I didn’t know better, I’d think my dad’s eyes were wrecked with panic. He’s no longer looking me in the eyes. He’s glancing back and forth between Shawn’s face and where he’s palms are resting on my body. My dad knows how I f
eel about Shawn. If I’m honest with myself, everyone, including Shawn himself knows I’m attracted to him and have been for as long as I can remember. But I also know, just as my father does, that I’m not Shawn’s type. I’ve always been too much of a good girl and Shawn doesn’t believe for a second that I can handle him long term. Not that Shawn does long term, because he doesn’t. The look my dad is giving us though, is throwing me off. I push that to the back of my mind.

  “She wants Shane to carry the casket after the service and I told her no.” My father’s jaw locks and Shawn’s hands tighten. He doesn’t like the idea any more than I do.

  “Stop acting like a child Taralynn.” My mother scolds. Why does she have to be such a bitch, all the time? “I’m burying my son today and I need his friend to step up to the plate today and do this.”

  “Katherine.”

  “I won’t—” My dad and I both speak at the same time, but I’m not able to finish because Shawn cuts me off.

  “I’ll do it.” He bites out the words. “Tara is right. My brother is in no shape to handle that. I’ll do it in his place.” His voice softens, but I can tell he’s angry with my mother for even wanting Shane to take on that responsibility. Shane’s barely holding it together as it is. He’s trying his damnedest to be strong for Kylie, but he’s only hanging on by a thread.

  “Thank you, Shawn.” It’s my dad who speaks it. “Katherine, we need to head to the chapel.” My father turns, walking away without my mother. She glances at Shawn before peering back at me.

  “I expect you to be in the chapel within fifteen minutes for the service. Until then, please take yourself to the ladies room and sort out your face. Show you brother and everyone that came to show him respect, some decency and make yourself presentable.” With her harsh words, she turns and stalks after my father. And I bolt, yanking myself from Shawn’s grip.