A sharp wave of agony fires through me, and I roll to my side to absorb it. Body folded over itself, I have nothing left to fight this attack.
It’s just forever, right? Just one crushing cosmic hole that siphons oxygen and nails you to a mattress in a shitty Mt. Airy townhouse.
How long is forever?
How long for this crushing ache to fester?
You promised me!
No joke.
No hope.
No… dope.
Li.
Li can fix this. Only Li.
You promised him.
Fuck promises. No one else keeps them.
“I’m proud of you, man. Proud of us. We did this. Jesse and Parker. Life tried to break us and we kicked its ass.”
Nausea climbs in my throat.
You promised.
He promised! He fucking promised so where does that leave us?
Huh, Parker? Us! Parker and Jesse. “We” had dreams. “We” kicked the world’s ass. We, we, we. You know I can’t handle “me.” That’s your job! Didn’t think about that either, did you?
I clench my eyes shut, cutting off the hot sting of tears.
A rhythmic buzz climbs out of the pile of clothes. Another call I can’t handle.
Li can fix this.
I roll off the bed and drag myself across the room.
Peace.
Oblivion.
I need to fix this.
YOU PROMISED!
The voice screams so loud in my head, I almost trip over my guitar. I catch the neck just before it crashes off the stand.
You promised.
I stare at the instrument in my hand.
Promises…
Parker deserved a promise not me. Parker deserves the music. He deserves everything, and he got stuck with me instead.
He—
Rewind back to the start
And your heart would still be too big for me
Love is a game
For some a lie
For you an epic tie that bound you
To the one who cries
When the lights go out
When the chill seeps down
Through cracks you always mended
My guitar starts to sing with the words. My body inches back to the edge of the bed.
Arms that braved the fiercest storms
Swarmed, warmed a broken boy
Who never had a chance
To dance with fate
Who lived afraid of himself
That’s love in a city of demons
A pity they never saw you coming
Rewind back to the day
A superhero roared,
“It’s okay
To fly, to dream, to spread broken wings
To scale a mountain in spite of it all.”
“Brother,” he said.
“I’ll catch you when you fall.”
∞∞∞
Bloodshot, glistening orbs: Mila’s eyes as she places a tray of food on the dresser. I lower the guitar to the floor and wipe my sleeve across my face.
“That’s beautiful, Jess. What’s it called?”
“‘Philadelphia.’”
Silence.
Glassy orbs widen, brighten with a spark of understanding. A sob escapes her as she rushes over. Her arms wrap tight; muscles tremble in sync with mine.
“Oh god, Jess,” she whispers, burrowing her face in my chest. “City of Brotherly Love.”
I close my eyes. “‘Philadelphia.’”
28: PHILADELPHIA
What do you do in the City of Brotherly Love without your brother? Can’t seem to figure that out.
So I play. The Song is a constant loop over the next three days. Perfection, that’s my goal. Make this last link to Parker the one thing that’s good enough for him. Somewhere in the house people whisper and clank dishes. They worry, they knock, they act like life goes on when it stops for one.
And maybe that’s true for them. But my present is too painful without the music. When it goes, the ache returns in an unbearable weight, so I play for him. Sing to him. Honor him with the only good thing I am. I give him everything until the song becomes a lullaby to rock me to unconsciousness. Then it’s awake, water, and more music. More knocks. More pleas. More whispers.
More music. Just the music until it’s ingrained in my soul beside my brother. For three days I play, cry, and escape.
On the fourth I wake up and realize I faced the mother of all demons without substances. And won.
∞∞∞
And how do others cope with grief? Erect a giant plaster minotaur, apparently.
“What the hell is that?” I mumble to Mila as I walk past the living room on the morning of the funeral.
“Jesse.” She throws her arms around my neck, and I close my eyes to absorb her warmth. Just like the music, maybe there’s room for her beside Parker in my heart.
“Are you…?” Her gaze wanders through my head as she pulls back.
“Working on it.” I force a half twist of a smile.
“Good.” She hands me a mug, and I do my best to swallow something besides water.
“Now—that,” I say, staring into the living room.
She leans against the island beside me. “What? The new tablecloth? The other was quite faded.”
I toss her a look, and she smiles. “Oh! You mean the massive bull-man. Derrick’s tribute to your brother.”
I snort a laugh in spite of myself. It’s the least painful reaction I have in me.
“Wow. If Parker wasn’t haunting us before, he certainly will now,” I say.
“Nah, I think it’s cute. You could dress it up for each holiday. Parker would appreciate the thought.”
“He’d freak at the damage it did to the hardwood. I’m guessing Derrick doesn’t have plans to fix that?”
“Doubtful. But I saw him before he left this morning and he had trousers on and everything.”
Another laugh leaks out, and I throw my arm around her shoulders. “God, I love you.”
We still.
Time stops.
Three words echo and bang and shatter history as the present lies in ruins.
I feel her chest lift in a long inhale. Release in a longer exhale.
“Good,” she says finally. “Because I love you too.”
∞∞∞
I suck at funerals. Never understood them. Still don’t as I stare at the box supposedly containing my brother.
I’m here, dude. You’re still dead. Now what?
Closed casket. Too much damage for makeup to fix, and right now, I think I’m okay with that. Who needs to see my strong, take-charge brother all chalky and painted like one of those creepy wax figures?
An arm slips around my waist as a head rests on my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Jess,” Mila whispers. It’s different coming from her; those words actually mean something. Maybe everything.
“He’d hate this, you know,” I say. “These flowers are ridiculous. And that photo Reece gave them?” We study the grinning man in a tux.
“He wore a tux?”
“Yeah, once. Last month for the Alton wedding. A real picture of Parker would have him at the kitchen table giving me the death stare.”
“You probably deserved it.”
“I always deserved it.”
We quiet, and I swallow the emptiness rising in my gut. Blink at the box that has no business holding my brother.
“It was nice of the boys to sort out a lot of the arrangements for you.”
“They’re amazing.”
“They are. Though I’m surprised by the lack of mythological beasts.”
This girl. I squeeze her tighter.
“My guess is the funeral home frowns on plaster bull-men.”
She chuckles softly and laces her fingers with mine. “You going to be okay to do your song?”
“No.”
“Good.” Her hand tugs mine to her lips.
∞∞∞
I
learn a lot about my brother as the speeches rumble from the podium next to his coffin. I do a good job keeping my eye-rolls in check and pretending to be properly touched by the exaggerated stories of his brilliance. He was great, and also a smartass who would be snickering right along with me if he weren’t locked in that damn box.
Mila squeezes my hand when the officiant calls my name and says I’d like to say a few words. Very few, really, because speeches aren’t my thing.
Nervous rustling flutters through the room as I slide out of my chair. I don’t remember the walk to the front being so long, the air by the casket so cold. I reach for my guitar, pull the strap over my head, and adjust the instrument that suddenly feels foreign in my hands.
A stab of pain cuts through me when I instinctively glance to my right for reassurance. No nod. No smile. No, you-got-this look from the face that’s always been there. Shiny boxes do a damn poor imitation of my brother.
The coldness seeps through my pores and lodges in my chest again. My fingers vibrate on the strings. The audience watches, waits for the train-wreck brother to embarrass the legacy of the better one. I swallow the mass in my throat.
“This is for Parker,” I say.
I close my eyes. The music starts, and suddenly he’s beside me again. I hear his clean guitar in my ears, his perfect backing vocal. Never too much, always the right build and release to match my lead because that’s what brothers can do. They read minds and interpret hearts. They make it okay not to be perfect because they fill gaps and…
Mend cracks.
“Rewind back to the start
And your heart would still be too big for me”
I dare a look at the audience, and a rush of warmth spreads through me. Not just at the quantity, but the quality of the people who love my brother.
“Love is a game
For some a lie
For you an epic tie that bound you”
There’s Luke, Casey, Callie, Holland, and even the other NSB guys looking on from a middle row. Can’t believe they all flew in.
“To the one who cries
When the lights go out
When the chill seeps down
Through cracks you always mended”
Mila, of course. A swell of love gusts into my chest at her reassuring smile and the glisten in her eyes. I know it’s for me as much as for Parker. Mila. Where would I be without her? Probably waiting for Parker in the ground.
“Arms that braved the fiercest storms
Swarmed, warmed a broken boy”
And there in the second row, my father—Parker’s father—with Chris and his fellow in-recovery army of supporters. His face… My voice falters, my throat closes around itself. The next words barely make it out.
“Who never had a chance
To dance with fate
Who lived afraid of himself
That’s love in a city of demons
A pity they never saw you coming”
My gaze pulls away to rest on the box where my brother should be standing. I know he’s not in there because he’s so firmly lodged in my heart.
“Rewind back to the day
A superhero roared
It’s okay
To fly, to dream, to spread broken wings
To scale a mountain in spite of it all”
At this point I doubt anyone else can understand the lyrics. They blast in my head, though, so I know Parker hears them. He’s even singing along, smiling because for the first time, I controlled the music. Instead of running, I dug in to face the greatest pain of my life and transform the mother of all demons into beauty.
“Brother, he said.
I’ll catch you when you fall.”
∞∞∞
Silence. No not silence. The whisper of sniffs and tissues spreads over the room as I stand immobile in front of the mic.
I have nothing else to give, but I can’t bear the thought of ending my last conversation with Parker. My guitar hangs heavy on my shoulder. My pick—I don’t know what happened to that.
This end, it’s unsatisfying. Is it an end? A beginning? Both? What the hell is my life without him?
My father’s sudden request to say a few words startles me from my daze. Startles everyone as a murmur filters over the rows of guests.
He approaches with somber, but sure strides. His hands grip my guitar and help lift it over my head. I watch as he places it on the stand with reverence before straightening in front of the mic.
“Some of you know, I stand here today as an intruder.” His gaze flickers to me. “My name is Jonas Everett and I’m responsible for the conception of Parker and Jesse, but little else. Parker was the man he was despite me, not because of me.”
Tears well in his tired eyes, bringing a burn to mine. He clears his throat. “I’ve thanked God every day since these boys let me back in their lives. I didn’t deserve another chance, but Parker was the kind of man who believed enough to support those who didn’t. Parker forgave when others forgot.”
His eyes find me again, and I draw in a ragged breath. “My time with Parker got cut short. It crushes me to know I’ve only returned a fraction of what I owe him, but I promise you, Jesse, I will pour my heart and soul into being the father I should have been when you needed one.
“You may not recognize it yet, but Parker lives on in you. He was so proud of you. He believed in you and the man he knew you were becoming. He loved you beyond words, just as I do, and I swear I will fight for you until it’s me in that casket.”
My cheeks sting with tears as the man I no longer hate, the man I might need if any of his words are true, moves toward me. His arms reach out, and I fall into them freely. For the first time in my life, I believe him.
I believe Jonas Everett’s promise.
How can I lose a brother and gain a father on the same day? My heart explodes.
“I love you,” he says for my ears only. “We’re going to make him proud.”
∞∞∞
With reverent silence, the guests clear to a reception upstairs until only two remain.
Two. The strange number that involves Jonas Everett. It’s become common lately.
An obscene flower arrangement cascades over the coffin as we stare in silence. The arm that slips around my shoulders is heavier than normal, and the weight I’ve been fighting so hard to sustain today crashes down around me. Crushes me. Pushes me to my knees and forces my face against the box in an avalanche of grief.
Dad drops beside me and wraps me in his arms.
I don’t know how long we stay like that. Seconds, minutes, days? But with each release of painful tears, I feel lighter. Like maybe I’ll find the strength to stand again. To walk from this room and leave that box behind.
I reach up and grip the smooth metal with two hands, my forehead resting between them. It feels wrong and so necessary at the same time. I clench my eyes shut and absorb my brother’s cold death into me.
“I swear to you, too,” I whisper, voice as broken and strong as my heart. “I’ll kick life’s ass for both of us, brother.”
29: STEPS AND LEAPS
If ever there’s a time to have a tough, take-no-prisoners woman beside you, it’s when you lose your brother and need someone to keep your life running.
While I grieve and stare at shit on my ceiling, Mila bustles around on her phone, maintaining and building a life we can go back to. She becomes the spokesperson for the band, the visionary, the advocate, the negotiator, and the planner. Even Parker would approve of her performance, especially the way she manages me by refusing to let me follow him into the darkness.
“Grieve, don’t get lost,” she says when I hide in my head for too long.
“I’m releasing the footage from Smother tonight.” She pushes me over so she can join me on the bed with her laptop. “All anyone wants to talk about is Parker, but it’s time for that to be a private conversation for you. We need everyone else focused on the future.”
I nod and blink up at the
blue swirls above us. “What is our future?”
A sharp glance cuts over to me, but she softens at my sincerity. “You told me yourself, you’re kicking the world’s arse, right? So that’s what we do. The best way to honor Parker is to make Limelight the legacy he always wanted.”
She taps industrious keys in the silence.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of my future.
The sound of a woman who loves me for reasons I still don’t understand.
Not so long ago I wanted to murder this woman. Now I’d murder for her. How have I come to need the two people I hated most in this world in order to survive the loss of the one I can’t live without?
“I don’t know if I can do this, Mila. What if I can’t?”
Her busy cadence stops, and I look up to meet gentle love.
She closes the laptop, slides down to the sheets, and slips her arm over my stomach. I cover her hand and hold on.
“I’m here for the long run, Jess,” she whispers. “You can because I’m not letting you go.”
I blink away tears and secure her fingers to my lips.
∞∞∞
A week later, I’m ready to brave the public again. Luke is my first call, and the selfless man drops everything to take me to lunch. He never mentions what he’s sacrificing to be here, and I don’t ask. I’m just grateful for his confident, calming presence.
“It’s some rough shit, Jesse. How are you holding up?”
I shrug and fidget with the straw in my glass. “Not sure I am. Mila’s holding my universe together.”
“But it’s being held. That’s a big step for you.”
Damn. Yeah.
I still haven’t run.
I’m still living, fighting.
Look at Jesse Everett facing the greatest pain of his life stone-cold sober.
The slightest of smiles flickers over my lips.
I’m doing it, Park.
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
He smiles back. “It was a great service, man. That song for Parker was extraordinary. Holland was a mess afterwards. You should consider releasing it.”
“Thanks.” I swallow the sudden surge of emotion. “How’s everything with you?”
“Good. We’re working on a world tour.”
“Yeah? When?”
“Late fall.”
“Wow.” I let out a laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
Limelight Page 23