“Carter? Carter... listen to me. Carter?”
I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut.
All the air knocked out of my body.
I look around my living-room.
Trying to find something.
Anything.
Something familiar.
To hold me down.
Bring me back to Earth.
Back to reality.
Something to tell me whats real and whats not.
But the walls.
The curtains to the windows.
The brown recliner.
The stone mantle fireplace.
All of it seems to blur together.
Slowly, the phone slides from my hand.
With a crash it lands on the floor.
But even the murmur of the T.V has no impact.
I feel the room around me sway.
My vision swirls.
Not John.
Not John.
Not John.
My mind chants.
Not John.
Not John.
Not John.

He looks peaceful.
He looks calm.
He looks happy.
I hope he is.
I know I’m not.
How can I be?
My brother is dead.
I look around the tiny room.
The smell of flowers is overwhelming.
I can’t help but look for his face again.
Resting on the pillow.
In the shiny black Coffin.
I hope he is happy.
There are a lot of people here.
A lot of people loved my brother.
They all sit in the pews.
Crying.
I wish everyone would go home.
I don’t want to be surrounded by them.
I don’t want another hug.
I don’t want someone to tell me it will be O.K.
Cause it won’t!
John.
Is.
Dead.
How is that O.K?
I turn to leave, I don’t want to look at him.
This person is NOT my brother.

I don’t want to be here.
But I need to be.
I never thought I would be here.
But I am.
I make my way to the front of the room.
A tear streaks down my face.
I stop short.
Carter is standing a few feet in front of me.
I wonder how he’s doing?
Stupid question,
Horrible.
Awful.
Depressed.
Should I go to him?
Talk to him?
What would I say?
I’m sorry?
He probably wants to be alone.
I look behind me through the doors that lead into the room.
John’s parents stand at the door.
His mother is crying.
His fathers arm is comforting her.
Mr. Anderson shakes the hands of those coming into the chapel.
Mrs. Anderson embraces a guest.
I look forward again.
The black coffin.
What will I see?
Will he look like my John?
He isn’t my John.
I know that.
I step forward.
And then again, until I’m standing just behind Carter.
I never talk to him.
He is 16.
I am 16.
John was 17.
If I ever drove myself to John’s house, we usually ended up leaving.
Heading to our favorite yogurt place.
YoGO Land.
The memories bring fresh tears to my eyes.
I hate crying.
I look up to see Carter turning to go back down the aisle.
I step to the side, and just glimpse his face.
His eyes are red and puffy.
His cheeks are blotchy.
I resist the urge to hug him.
He doesn't want to hear me say it will be O.K.
I walk forward.
He isn’t my John.
His face is pale.
His eyes are closed.
He looks like he is sleeping.
This is all my fault.
“Good-Bye John.” I whisper.

When your brother dies in a freak car accident, life doesn't go back to normal.
The food at your house is made by a different family and not your mom.
There is always someone at your house whether you want them there or not.
But when their isn’t a family visiting, or someone dropping off lunch, the emptiness feels worse.
The closed door of His room is a painful reminder.
The brown hoodie he always wore sits on the stairs in a crumpled heap.
His iPod sits on the back of the kitchen counter.
His running shoes by the back door.
The xbox controller he used, sits on the coffee table.
The empty chair at the Kitchen table.
His razor and bathroom bag sit on the counter in the bathroom we shared.
Its like John is everyone in the house,
But not here at all.
I wonder if this is what its like to feel depressed.

I’ve been sitting in my room for hours.
Ever since the funeral ended.
I hold the dark blue hoodie he accidentally left at my house the day before the accident.
I hold it close to my heart, and smell it.
It smells like John.
Am I going crazy?
No...
I miss him.
I lost my boyfriend.
I lost my best-friend.
I lost my John.
I have a reason to go insane?
I’m NOT going crazy.
Snap out of it Julie, I tell myself.
Will the ache in my heart ever go away?
Something; my heart, tells me no and that the pain will be endless.
My mom tells me yes, things will get better.
I blame myself.

I had a dream about him.
It was a strange dream.
I dreamed I was in the passenger seat of his sedan.
He had the radio blasting some country station.
The interior of his car was the same I remembered it.
Same messy cup-holders and dash.
The same trash cluttered mess.
Fast food cups had accumulated under the seats.
Crumpled up school assignments.
I noticed a crumpled grammar sheet stuck in the handle of the passenger door.
A hot pink hoodie was in the back seat.
Must be Julie’s.
I start wondering how Julie was.
Suddenly, I end up at YoGO land.
And there she was.
She was sitting alone on a raspberry booth.
She had a bowl in front of her but she was simply stirring its contents.
She was wearing a dark blue hoodie that was seemingly familiar.
It was rather large on her.
Her blonde hair is in ragged curls.
Her eyes were red and puffy.
She kept using the sleeves of the jacket to wipe away tears that would randomly start flowing.
Like a broken flood-gate.
I glance toward the door when the welcome bell jingles.
I watch as John walks inside.
He searches the room until his eyes came to rest on me.
He walks forward.
I wasn’t sure if I should smile.
I wasn’t sure if this was real.
But then, he walks around me
And when I turn around, it wasn’t me she saw.
It’s Julie.
I glance at Julie.
Wardrobe change.
She had on a purple t-shirt and Jeans.
Her hair was in bouncy blonde curls.
Her dangly earrings bounce with her hair when she laughs.
Her face was glowing as John took her to the assembly line to get their yogurt.
Their hands found each other and held on tight, as if something were about to tear them apart.
I watch them pass by me.
Apparently I wasn’t on the same dimension as them.
And then there was a shattering of glass.
My first thought was a robber coming through the glass door of the shop.
But then I was standing outside.
The sky was dark and cloudy even though I knew it was in the afternoon.
It was cold.
I glance at my clothes, jeans and a t-shirt.
Then I look forward.
A totaled red sedan.
Covered and embedded in a wall of bricks.
The entire drivers side is crushed inward.
Blue, red and white lights flash onto the black pavement.
Slowly as if cotton had previously been in my ears, the sounds of sirens grew louder and louder.
Drowning out my own thoughts.
I look to where Im standing.
The middle of an empty intersection.
In the center of a neighborhood.
Stop signs at every corner.
The single street lamp on one of the corners is out.
I recognize the neighborhood.
Julie’s house is just down the street.
A wall of bricks, that create the back of a line of a fence, is crumbled in.
I look at the car.
Something; adrenaline maybe, kicks in.
I start to run toward the car and stop short.
Inside I can faintly see a outline of a person at the drivers seat.
It seems the person is slumped forward.
Tears sprang to my eyes.
My nose burns.
My nerves are tingling for a moment.
And then I’m numb.
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t think.
I couldn’t save my brother.


.......
But the dream wasn’t over.
Suddenly, I was transported back to YoGO land.
Julie was still sitting at the same booth.
In the dark blue hoodie.
Her hair was a mess.
I watch as she held her head in her hands.
I could tell she was crying by the way the sobs racked her body.
Without thinking, I move toward her.
Without thinking, I sat down.
Without thinking, I held her close.
I almost thought my arms would turn to smoke and I wouldn’t be able to hold her.
But instead I was a solid object.
Julie turns to me.
She didn’t seem surprised to see me.
Instead she burred her head in my shoulder.
And I held her close.

I had a dream.
John was in it.
So was Carter.
It was at YoGo land.
At first, I was sitting alone.
I was wearing the Blue Jacket John had left at my house.
Wishing he was there.
Remembering all the times we had sat in this same booth.
‘Our Booth’ he called it.
I heard the welcome bell jingle as someone came into the shop.
And then, there he was!
John came in and walked straight toward me.
He was smiling.
As if everything was ok.
And it was, everything was so perfect.
My John was back.
It was the day of the accident.
It was like any normal date.
He took me to get yogurt.
He placed his hand over mine as he filled my dish.
He smiled and laughed.
I was happy to have him close.
“I love you.”
–He whispered.
“I love you.”
–I say.
My John, I love you.
And then he took my hand, as if he would never let go.
I wanted to scream “Never let go John!”
But then, just like that, he was gone.
Just like that.
And then I was sitting at our booth.
Alone.
I started crying.
And then, someones warm hands wrapped around me.
I looked up, hoping John was back.
But it was Carter.
I looked into his eyes and saw the sadness I felt.
He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t have to.
I buried my head on his shoulder, and he held me close.

Things at home aren't easy.
Mom is always crying.
Dad is stressed, but under that I see an un-ending sadness.
No one has touched John’s things.
His Hoodie.
His iPod.
His shoes.
His room.
At first, I didn’t want to go into his room.
I was scared of the memories it would bring.
But now, after sitting through another silent dinner.
Watching mom hold it together for only so long before she broke down again.
I find myself running to his room.
I stop in front of the closed white door.
My hands grasp the doorknob.
I push the door open.
Just like his car, the room is a mess.
John was such a slob, but it doesn't matter.
It’s who he was.
I walk into his room.
His full sized bed is left un-made.
A plate of stale chips on his night-stand.
His open calculus book on the floor.
Dirty clothes make a nice rug, I think.
I see the few pictures mom insisted on hanging.
When we first moved in, and his room was clean.
They hang in black frames.
John and I.
John and Julie.
John and the family.
It’s all we have left.
Pictures.
Memories.
I would trade them for my brother.
My nose starts to burn as I bite back tears.
I look at the pictures again.
Im not a sappy guy, but he and Julie were a cute couple.

I feel like I should go to his house.
Like, maybe I will find this was all a dream.
Like, maybe he will be sitting on his bed.
iPod headphones in one ear, working on homework.
But, maybe I don’t want to go.
Maybe, its the conformation I don’t want.
I find myself getting into my moms SUV.
Not sure where Im going to end up, yet almost certain.
Ten minutes later I pull into their drive-way.

I look out his window.
I see her car.
I figured she would be by.
I remember my dream.
I watch as she gets out of her car.
And walks to the front door.
Once she is gone from view, I wait and hear her knock.
I know I should get it.
Mom and Dad will be in their room.
But I don’t know if I want to face her.
Nevertheless, I stand up.
I walk out of John’s room, closing the door softly behind me.
I walk to the entree hall.
I open the door.
She stands there for a second.
And then she steps inside and hugs me.
I hug her too.
She isn’t crying.
But something tells me she might.
She pulls back slowly.
“Hey.”
–She says.

He opened the door.
I don’t know why, but I give him a hug.
I feel comfortable around him.
Like there is a mutual sadness between us.
It’s weird.
But comfortable.
I look at his face, I’m the first to speak.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
–He says.
“I wont ask you how you are.”
–I said.
I knew it didn’t matter.
“Thanks.”
–He said.
He held the door open and I stepped in.
The house is warm.
Mrs. Anderson comes in from around the corner.
I’ve always liked her.
She gives me a long hug.
She’s like a second mother to me.
If John was studying, she and I would sit in the kitchen and talk.
She slowly steps back.
I look into her face.
She looks like she hasn’t stopped crying.
I’m glad I didn’t wear mascara.
“Hi dear,” Mrs. Simmons says.
“Hi Mrs. Simmons.”
“Come to the kitchen dear, we have lots of food.”
I follow her.
Carter trails behind.
I feel at home here.

Julie didn’t leave until yesterday evening.
We sat in the kitchen for a while.
Munching on random snacks and desserts.
Then she looked at mom and asked if she could see his room.
Mom nodded.
I offered to take her, but my mom shook her head.
Together the two walked out of the kitchen.
They grasped each-other's hands.
I ended up sitting alone in the kitchen for an hour.
I didn’t mind the silence.
I finally stood up and went to our game room.
I picked up John’s controller.
Bluetooth.
Wireless.
Red.
I turned on the xBox and pick up the wireless mic.
I sat on the huge couch.
Soon, I was in the game.
Absorbed in it.
Just like John use to be.
It was an escape.
I rarely used the mic.
But I heard the others talking.
A little flash box in the corner of the screen told me one friend had logged on.
“Hey John!”
I heard through my headphones.
I stopped playing.
I glanced at the screen.
An instant replay of a kill I made.
JOHNnyAppleSeed killed Mr. Deathbox.
I was playing on John’s account.
“John..?” The voice repeated.
A box at the bottom of the screen told me fOXtrotTeER was speaking.
I switched the mic on.
“It’s Carter.”
“Oh, John’s brother?”
That hit me.
I bit my lip.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, where’s John?” The voice asked.
I hesitated.
“He’s not here.”
–I said.
“Is he home?”
“No.”
“Oh...” The voice seemed agitated.
“Where is he?”
I had started to get angry.
“He’s not here.”
–I repeated.
“Is he out?”
“He’s... He died in a car accident a week ago.” I choked.
There was silence. And then the headphones crackled.
“Hey man, Im really sorry.”
“My name is AJ.” “
“I live in North Carolina.”
“Your brother and I met on here in a team kill.”
I listened to AJ talk.
He seemed nice.
I could tell he was still shocked.
“Look man, if you even need to talk.”
“Or, even want me to show you the best maps on this game.”
“Hit me up. OK?”
I switched my mic on.
“Ya man... Thanks.”
Thats when Julie came in.

It was nice.
Being over at his house.
With his family.
Mrs. Anderson let me take a necklace he use to wear.
I put in on and haven't taken it off since I’ve been home.
I didn’t get home till late yesterday evening.
I ended up staying later than I planned.
After being in John’s room.
I went and found Carter in the game room.
Just how I use to find John.
He was even playing on John’s account.
I could hear the faint chatter through the headphones.
I watched Cater for a second.
It was different than watching John.
John was always fully focused in the game.
Head forward.
Eyes focused.
Hands gripping the controller.
Ready to make the perfect kill.
Carter sat back in the couch.
Relaxed.
So different from John.
He looked up at me and pulled off his headphones.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Do you... Do you want to play?”
I laughed.
That was exactly how John had asked me to play with him.
Ever since, you could say i’ve become pretty a good gammer.

I lay in my bed.
Another dream .
I close my eyes and picture it like I’m dreaming again.
Im walking the halls of the Crowley High school.
I see some friends.
If they see me, they don’t say hi.
They duck their heads and slide right past me.
I hear a bell ring.
But I’m not heading to class.
Im looking for something, or someone.
I walk through the halls past the rows of lockers.
The crowds are thinning out.
Suddenly my heart starts racing.
As if Im getting closer to what Im seeking.
And then I see her.
Julie is standing at her locker.
She seems to be arranging books in the shelves, but in the small mirror, I see her tear streaked face.
I stand and watch her while the crowds disappear until its only a few stragglers.
Julie hasn’t moved.
I feel a sudden urge to comfort her.
How can I comfort her?
‘Where is this random desire coming from?’ I wonder.
Before I can even think, I’m walking toward her.
She hears my foot steps and glances over her shoulder.
But when she see’s me, she sighs.
I wonder if that means she doesn't want to see me.
I cant stop my feet.
They keep moving toward her.
I place a hand on her shoulder.
She turns to me as tears run down her face.
She pulls me into a hug.
And I give a returning hug.
Then I wake up.
I realize I had fallen asleep and dreamed the dream again.
Doesn't it mean something when your have a dream twice?

I lay in bed for hours.
I can’t sleep.
I haven't been able to sleep ever since the accident.
If I do sleep, I dream.
Its one of two dreams over and over.
In the first one, Im at YoGo land.
In the second, its like a continuation of the first.
I don’t even have to be dreaming.
When I close my eyes.
The memory comes flying.
I picture it on the inside of my eyelids.
Like watching a movie.
John took me home the night of the accident.
After our date at YoGo land.
He took me to my house.
On the car ride.
We talked.
We laughed.
We listened to the radio.
We sang along to all the songs.
We never knew anything other than the happiness we felt in that moment.
Then we were at my house.
In my driveway.
He jumped out of the car and ran to open my door.
He was just like that.
He then walked me to the door of my house.
His arm around me for part of the way.
And then slowly he removed his hand and took and step away.
I turned to look at him
We were standing on the porch.
The moon was out casting a romantic glow.
The wind was soft.
I bit my lip, not wanting to say good-bye.
He smiled at me.
And then, he took a step forward, put my head in his hands, and kissed me.
It sent fireworks off in my stomach.
I blushed.
I smiled.
I laughed.
I almost cried.
I had never known such happiness.
“I love you Julie.” he said as he backed toward his car.
“I love you John!” I called.
Then he got into his car; waving, he drove off.
I never saw him alive again.
I will never see his smile.
Or hear his laugh.
Or sing country music in his car with him.
I wont hold his hand.
Hug him.
Kiss him.
I lost my John.
I blame myself.
Why didn’t I invite him in?
Why didn’t I ask him to stay a while?
Maybe if he had stayed 3 seconds longer, the driver never would have hit him.
I don’t know who hit him.
The police are searching.
If I ever find the person.
I’m going to kill him.
He took my John.
I open my eyes suddenly.
I jerk myself out of bed.
Im crying I realize.
I stumble onto the floor of my room.
I stretch my arms our, searching.
I finally feel the soft material beneath my hands.
I pull it towards me.
It still smells like john.
I put the hoodie on, and climb back into bed.
I don't fall asleep until morning.

I flip the TV on.
It went to a paused recording.
I pressed play.
It was a news cast:
“Our reporter Andrea is on the scene, Andrea?”
The camera zoomed in on a short brunette.
Her hair was short and cropped around her chin.
She was probably about 22.
She had on a pink scarf and a black top.
I recognized her right away.
Even before I saw the background.
I even noted where she was standing.
Just a few feet behind her, caution tape fluttered in the slight wind.
Making a snapping and popping sound.
Blue, Red, and White lights flashed on the black pavement. 
Across the white center lines of the road.
The camera zoomed in just to the left of the screen.
Cropping out the reporter who continued talking.
“The police are labeling this as a hit in run.
As I said before, young John Anderson was driving home.
When he was hit just around 10pm this evening.
Police are also saying it was a suspected drunk driver.
Due to reports from neighbors who reported the accident.
As well as skid marks.
Thats all we have now, back to you Charlie.”
The recording ended.
The options:
Repeat.
Delete.
Save.
Showed up on the menu.
I clicked the TV off.

Almost three weeks.
It isn’t any easier.
My mom is telling me its time to move on.
I stay in my room.
Crying.
Hugging his hoodie.
Mom hasn’t been feeling well.
Dad asked me to take care of her while he was at work.
Because I’m “taking care of her” I haven’t gone to school.
I’m on winter break now.
My friends text me.
They want to hang out.
They want to see me.
They want things to go back to normal.
Well me and them both.
But they wont.
John was my normal.
Dad knocks on my door.
“Come in.”
Dad peeks around the door.
If he notices my messy room.
Rumpled appearance.
Or tear stained face, he doesn't say anything.
Instead he says “Im taking Mom to the Doctor, again.”
“Ok.”
“Do you need anything while I’m out?”
“No.”
“Your sure?”
“Yes.”
I rolled over and picked up a random book.
My dad, realizing I wasn’t going to say anything else, turned and closed the door quietly.
I think Mom’s told him to leave me alone.
I hear the garage door open.
The engine starts and the car pulls out.
Dad’s taken mom to the Doctor three times in the past month.
She keeps getting the flu or something.

I wake up with a start.
I had been dreaming again.
I don’t even remember the dream.
I’m wide awake now.
I decide to get up and get something to drink.
I open my door and slide quietly down the hallway.
I realize the kitchen light is on.
I hear hushed whispers.
As I move closer I realize its my parents.
Soon Im standing just outside the door frame.
“Come back to bed sweetheart.” My dads tone is comforting.
“I, I can’t sleep.” My mom’s voice shakes with on-coming sobs.
“Come on dear, you’ll wake Carter.”
I hear the chair scratch across the wood floors.
“There you go, come on sweetheart.” My dad encourages.
I hear my mom sniff.
“Do you want me to heat your tea?”
I assume my mom nods because I hear the microwave door open and close.
In 5-minutes the light is turned off and both my parents are in their room.
I slip into the kitchen.
But, its like a huge cloud comes over me.
It’s like the death of my brother is hitting home.
I’ve felt this before, I think to myself.
But this time, i feel like I cant breath.
I need John.
Where is he?
My mind seems to refuse to give me the correct answer.
Forming un-believable answers.
John is away at camp.
He is out past curfew.
He is with Julie.
Random things pop into my head.
But then I picture in my mind, the drunk driver.
His car ramming into my brother as he crosses an intersection.
Crushing the drivers side in.
Pushing the car towards the wall of bricks.
Just as fast as everything occurs, the drunk driver takes off.
I feel my heart racing.
Cold sweat forms on my brow.
I feel like I’m being chased.
The room goes cold.
I look around.
Someones headlights flash through the window as they drive along the street.
I glance at the clock.
3:43
Who would be out driving?
The lights get brighter.
I look out with window.
I see the familiar SUV pull into the driveway.

I ended up throwing the book down.
After my dad left, I went to the kitchen.
It was a wreck.
With mom sick, fast-food bags had accumulated on the counters.
I picked up the discarded bags and empty cups and tossed them into the trash.
I go to the living room and turn on the TV.
I end up falling asleep.
I wake up later to the back door opening and closing.
Its 8:34.
I glance through the kitchen to see my dad come in quickly.
He moves through the house to his room.
His eyes look puffy.
I get up and follow him.
He is throwing random clothes into a suit-case.
“Dad?”
“Oh, hi sweetie.” He doesn't look up.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, mom’s going to be staying at the hospital for a while, she... she–”
He sinks to his knees.
His hands clenched together.
His eyes closed tightly.
“Dad...? What’s wrong?”
He doesn't say anything for a minute.
“Your mom is very very sick.”
He finally answers.
“Sick with?”
“The Doctors don’t know.”
“Go get dressed. You need to come to the hospital.”
I hurry to my room.
I’ve never seen my dad this stressed before.
I throw on a pair of jeans and a blank t-shirt.
I grab the blue hoodie and run down-stairs.
Dad is waiting in the car.
I climb in and note the suite-case is in the back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’ve been sitting in a plastic waiting room chair for over an 2 hours.
Waiting for some sort of news.
Waiting for some glimpse of hope.
Waiting for my mom to walk through the door and tell me things are alright.
The door is pushed open and I stand up.
Hoping for the best.
My dad walks through.
He hands me the keys to the SUV.
“We are going to be here a while.”
“Im not going anywhere.”
“The Doctors are running some test. You can’t do anything.”
“I’m not leaving.”
I state very firmly.
My Dad sighs.
“Ok.”
He turns to go.
I stepp toward him.
“Dad?”
He stops and turns around.
“Yes Julie?”
“How...”
I search for words to form a sentence.
“How bad?”
It wasn’t coming out right.
I paused and took a breath...
“Will mom make it?”
Dad’s eyes softened.
His face fell.
“I don’t know Julie, I don’t know.”
“There are so many unknowns.”
With that he turned and left the room.
I sat back down.
The hours passed.
11:23
12:45
1:34
2:23
3:00
After dozing off and downing a coke.
I pull the keys from my pocket and make my way out of the hospital.
Dad never came back to inform me of any news.
He was busy with mom.
Taking care of her.
Making sure she didn’t die.
She couldn’t die.
Mom’s don’t just die.
They live for a long LONG time.
They watch you graduate high school.
They help you decorate your dorm in Collage.
They welcome you home for weekends.
They watch you graduate collage.
They watch you get married.
They become grandmas.
They don’t just leave you.
I put the keys in the ignition.
The parking lot was almost empty.
I pull out.
I’ve lost John.
I can’t loose mom.
Tears started to form.
After 40 minutes of driving.
I’m pulling into their drive-way.
Im not going in.
I tell myself.

I watch the lights of her car turn off.
Waiting for her to get out.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting for the call from John that he is on his way home.
Waiting for normal to come back.
Waiting for life to go back to the way it was.
Waiting for Julie to just get out of her car.
I finally realize something.
I can’t get John back.
I can’t get normal back.
I can’t make mom and dad happy again.
I don’t even know if I can be happy again.
But I do know this.
I’m walking toward the front door.
I can see what Julie wants.
I open the door so as not to wake my parents.
I slip outside.

I pull out the keys from the ignition.
I sit in their driveway.
All the lights are off.
I can’t wake them up.
Why would I?
Why am I here?
It’s not like John’s here.
It’s not like they are going to care anymore.
They have their own problems.
I slump forward.
My head on the steering wheel.
Tears start to form.
They rush down my cheeks.
Why did I leave the hospital?
I know the answer.
I can’t stand not knowing.
Not knowing who the driver was.
Not knowing how to be happy again.
Not knowing if mom will be alright.
I hate it.
Sitting in that waiting room.
I wanted to scream.
I jump when I hear a tapping on the window.
I look up to see Carter.
The moon faintly outlines him.
I can just see the brown tint of his hair.
I open the door as he steps back.
“Julie, what are you doing here?”
He asks.
There is no accusation.
There is no demanding tone.
Simply curiosity.
And a hint of compassion.
He cant see my face Im sure.
But when I speak he must hear my tone.
“It’s my mom.”
“Where is she?”
”s she alright?”
–He asks.
His voice is filled with concern.
“She’s in the hospital.”
“Doctor's don’t know whats wrong.”
My voice cracks at the end.
A sob forms.
My hands grasp the steering wheel tighter.

I walk towards her car.
I can see her outline from the moon.
I almost stop.
Her head is slumped against the steering wheel.
Just like John in my dream.
Its like someone is pulling on my lungs.
I gasp for a breath.
Trying to maintain an even heart beat.
I continue towards her car.
I tap on the window.
I greet her.
When she responds, I realize she’s been crying.
I worry this is about John.
But something tells me it’s not.
She tell’s me its her mom.
I hear her voice crack.
I’m no good at this stuff.
Not the mushy gooshy stuff.
It’s not that I’m ‘too manly’.
I’ve cried a lot in the past few weeks.
And I don’t even know how to deal with myself.
Let alone a girl.
John was always good at this stuff.
That’s who she needs.
She needs John.
But John isn’t here.
I tell myself.
I need to be John.
But I’m not.
So I will be Carter.
I place my hand on top of hers.
I realize her hands are clenching the steering wheel.
I slowly pull her hand away.
I gently lead her out of the car.
Once she is standing I note that she is actually shorter than me.
She looks at me.
I can’t see her face.
But somehow I know she is crying silently.
I also note I’m still holding her hand.
I cant let go.
She might take that as rejection.
But I cant keep holding it.
She might think it means something.
What if it does?
No.
It can’t.
She’s my brothers girlfriend.
Or, was my brother’s girlfriend.
But still.
I unconsciously rub my thumb along the side of her hand.
I get the urge to stand beside her and place my hand around her waist.
Without thinking, I do so.
She places most of her weight on me.
Not that it’s a challenge.
She weights nothing.
I lead her towards the house.
Our steps are slow.

He takes my hand.
Gently he pulls me out of the car.
His arm wraps around my waist.
Its comforting.
For a moment.
I feel protected.
Im no longer vulnerable.
I lean against him.
Trying to hold back tears.
He leads me toward the house.
Slowly.
We walk in silence.
But there is no need to say anything.
Through the past few weeks, I’ve learned something.
Words, are just words.
It sounds silly.
But it’s true.
We use words to build people up.
To tear people down.
To tell someone we love them.
Or to tell them we hate them.
There are good words.
Bad words.
Comforting words.
Stupid words.
Loud words.
And quiet words.
The best are silent words.
The words most clear and yet un-said.
Those are the best.
I find most of them are said in situations.
Where two people find themselves in a comfortable silence.
Feeling no need to say anything at all.

We walk to the house.
I hold the door open for her.
Releasing her hand.
And removing my arm from around her.
She walks inside without saying anything.
I close the door softly behind us.
I lead the way into the kitchen.
“Hungry?” I ask.
“Yea.” She says.
“What do you want?”
“Anything.”
I flip a light on.
Go to the pantry and search.
I pull out a smores poptart.
A cup of instant mac-&-cheese.
A granola bar.
Two cans of soda.
And a box of pizza gold-fish.
I walk to the table and set everything out.
She is sitting there.
She pulls the smores poptart toward her.
“Wait!”
–I say.
She freezes.
I take the package of smores out of her hands.
Tare the wrapper off.
And throw it in the trash.
I place the two poptarts in the microwave.
Hit 10 seconds.
And wait.
I pull the door open as it begins to beep.
Cutting the loud, piercing noise off.
Silently hoping my parents didn’t wake up.
I walk back to the table.
A smirk on my face.
I tried to frown.
“It is, an utter-disgrace.”
–I say.
“To eat a smores poptart, without heating it.”
I watch her face.
Her mouth crinkles into a smile.
She laughs.
Yes!
Maybe I’m not so bad at this.
“Ok, ok.”
–She says laughing.
“I’m sorry.”
“Can I eat it now–”
“WAIT!”
I cry.
Thinking of something else.
She freezes in mid-bite, rolling her eyes.
I run to the cabinet.
Open the door.
Pull out a glass.
Run to the fridge.
Pull out the jug of milk.
Pour her a glass.
And bring it to the table.
Setting it before her.
She laughs and smiles again.
Score!
But then she frowns.
My heart jumps.
Oh no.
I thought.
“Wait.”
–She says.
“What do I do first?”
“Drink the milk?”
“Or chew?”
“OR! Do, I bite, drink, swallow?”
I almost sigh out loud.
Smiling, I answer.
“Whatever way you want.”
“It’s a free country.”
She laughs.
Bitting into the poptart.

He made me laugh!
And then he laughed.
He has a cute laugh.
“Thanks Carter.”
“No problem.”
–He says.
He pulls the box of gold-fish toward him.
Munching happily.
I watch him.
He was so like John.
And yet so different.
He looks up at me.
Smiling.
“Is this some kind of study?”
He asks grinning.
“Aren't I suppose to sign a waver?”
His face, a curious grin.
“Not if its a blind study.”
–I say.
“In which case your parents might.”
“Im going to have to talk to my mom.”
–He says.
He laughs again.
Ok, his laugh is adorable.
I picked up my glass of milk.
He pulls a can of soda toward him.
Opening it with a pop.
“So.”
–He says.
I glance at the oven clock.
4:12
I look at Carter.
I notice he looks tired.
Slight bags under his eyes.
I then realize he is waiting for an answer.
“So… How are you?”
–I ask.
He tilts his head.
“I don’t want to talk about me.”
–He announces.
“Tell me about you.”
“How are you handling things?”
I glance down.
Hugging the glass between my hands.
When I look up.
He’s watching me.
Waiting for an answer.
“Ok.”
–I say.
“Ok. Doesn't cut it.”
–He replies.
I glance down again.
“Not ok.”
“I miss him.”
“I know you do to.”
“Everyone does.”
“But it’s like trying to live without a piece of myself.”
“John was more than my boyfriend.”
“He was my best friend.”
“And thats another thing.”
“I HATE having to use past tense!”
“I hate that I’m not the only one missing him.”
“I hate that other people are hurting.”
“I feel like I can’t do anything anymore.”
“I feel...”
“I feel like it’s my fault.”
“I feel like....”
My voice drifts off.
Tears are starting to form at the corner of my eye.
“Like I should be dead and he should be here.”
–I finish.
“It’s not your fault.”
–He said.
“Yes, it is.”
“If he had stayed at my house longer.”
“If I had asked him to come in.”
“If I had ran after him as he backed toward his car.”
“Delaying him five seconds could have saved his life.”
“But I did nothing.”

She is starting to work herself into hysterics.
I watch her.
Somehow knowing she needs to say everything she possibly can.
Without being interrupted.
So I watch her.
Tears roll down her face.
She looks like she’s shaking.
I listen to her.
She blames herself.
“I did nothing…”
–She repeats softly.
She cries silently.
I somehow know she isn’t done speaking.
But she is down talking for now.
I open my mouth to speak.
She looks up at me. 
“Don’t you dare tell me its not my fault Carter Anderson!”
She almost screams.
“Don’t you even dare!”
–She stands.
“Julie.” I try softly.
“No Carter!”
“No!”
“I shouldn’t have come.”
“I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
She is shaking.
“Julie.”
I try again.
She starts to move toward the door.
I stand up.
She is almost to the front door when she starts running.
I follow her.
Slowly at first.
I hear my name echoed by my parents from down the hall.
I glance back.
My mom is in a gown and robe.
My dad in his boxer shorts.
It’s obvious they were previously asleep.
“Sorry.”
–I mumble.
“Julie.”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Go back to bed.”
I turn and run through the front door.
I sprint toward her car.
The lights of the car are still off.
I don’t see her.
Until I come around the car.
She is leaning against it.
Her forehead on the side-window.
I walk toward her.
She doesn't acknowledge me.
I put my arm around her.
She is crying silently.
I pull her away from the car.
I turn her so she is facing me.
She falls into my arms.
I hold her.
Unconsciously smoothing her hair.
Whispering.
“It’s ok.”
She sobs.
Her head on my shoulder.
I lead her toward the house.
Again.
Once we get inside.
I lead her to my room.
She allows me to direct her.
I leave her momentarily to go to my closet.
I pull out a large t-shirt.
Once my dad’s.
Then John’s.
Now mine.
I hand it to her.
And then gently direct her toward the bathroom.
She moves on her own.
Once she’s gone.
I move around my room quickly.
Tiding things.
Changing the sheets.
Adding a new pillow.
Pulling the comforter back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She emerges ten minutes later.
Her hair is slightly brushed.
The t-shirt is huge on her.
But it fits well enough.
She walks into my room quietly.
Holding her clothes.
I hold my hand out.
Unsure what she’s thinking.
She takes it.
I take the clothes from her hand.
And walk to the bed.
Setting them on the ground.
I release her hand.
Backing toward the door.
I call,
“Goodnight Julie.”
“Sleep-well.”
Without acknowledging me again, she climbs into the bed.
Pulling the covers up.
As I close the door, I faintly hear her.
“Thank you Carter.”
I shut the door softly.
I then make my way to the couch in the living room. 
I pull a blanket out of the hall closet on the way.
Striping off my jeans and shirt.
I settle onto the couch and pull the blanket over me.
It will do for the night.
–I think to myself.

I wake up slowly.
Keeping my eyes closed as I try to remember the night before.
I remember different things.
Like Carter’s soft eyes.
His hug.
His laugh.
His smile.
But most of all.
The feeling of leaning against my car.
And feeling him pull me away.
If he hadn’t come after me…
He never would have known what I planned to do.
I would have gotten into my car.
And drove off….
Maybe never to see him again.
I know now it was a moment of despair.
It’s not like I’m suicidal.
Just, like I said, a moment of weakness.
I still feel week though.
I think to myself.
My eyes burn from crying.
My nose is runny.
I feel achy all over.
As I sit up.
My head pounds slightly.
Like a dull throb.
My hair is a disaster.
I can feel it.
Knots and tangles.
The t-shirt I’m wearing is soft.
It smells like Carter.
I pull the covers off of me.
Before I leave the room, I check to make sure the t-shirt covers me.
It does.
It manages to reach just above my knees.
I open the door quietly.
When I peek out, the house seems silent.
I listen for a minute before deciding no one is awake.
I move toward the kitchen when a small sigh makes me jump.
I look around me.
And then notice a heap of blankets on the couch.
The heap shifting slightly.
I move toward the living room.
When I see his face, my breath catches. 
His curly brown hair frames his face.
His cheeks are flushed.
I imagine his eyes.
The way he looked at me last night.
I close my eyes.
Picturing his.

My first thought when I wake up is:
Is Julie still here?
I hear the sound of a door creaking.
Footsteps follow getting slightly louder as they pass the living room.
I close my eyes.
Picturing the night before.
My mind recalls Julie’s face.
Tears roll off her cheeks.
Remembering how upset she was last night.
I convince myself to get up and go check on her.
However, when I open my eyes.
She is standing next to me.
Her face hovering inches from mine.
I smile.
“Morning.”
–I say.
My voice is husky.
She smiles.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
–She says.
“S’ok, I was bound to get up sooner or later.”
I pull my feet up.
She sits down.
Her back leans half against the sofa.
Half on my knees.
“So what about you?”
–She asks, turning to look at me.
I look at her, puzzled.
“How are you handling things?”
I glance down.
My breath catching in my throat.
“I don’t think I can put words...”
–I stop.
Unsure how to phrase it.
How do you use words to describe feelings?
I don’t look at her until I feel the weight on the couch shift.
She stands up.
“Hold on.”
–She says.
I watch her.
She moves to the coffee table.
Picking up a black sharpie.
She walks toward me.
She picks up my hand.
Flipping it, palm side up.
I watch as she writes.
“No Words. Just Love.”
Once she’s through.
She sits back down.
“No words. Just Love.”
–She says.

Christmas Eve.
John kissed me last year.
Under some mistletoe he bought.
He told me it was the one gift I could have early.
He gave me a necklace the next day.
It had a silver chain.
And a pink glass butterfly pendent.
He had come over on Christmas.
When he knocked, I answered.
I was still in my Pajamas.
He smiled and held out the silver box with a pink bow.
After I opened it.
He put it on me.
When I pull myself back to the current year I realize I’m crying.
Clutching the necklace in my hand.
Nothing this season is going right.
Mom’s in the hospital.
John isn’t here.
Dad stays with mom, although I can’t blame him.
The only good thing thats happened is Carter and I.
We’ve become really close within the past few weeks.
He even invited me to spend Christmas eve with him and his family.
I force myself to stand up.
Walk to my closet.
Pull out Jeans and a dark purple sweater.
I get dressed.
Put on the butterfly necklace.
Pull on my shoes.
Grab the car keys.
And head to the garage.
I get to the hospital.
All the nurses are wearing red and green scrubs.
I get in the elevator or head to ICU.
When I open the door, my mom greets me.
“Hey Baby-girl.”
–She says.
“Hey mom, I just wanted to stop by before I head to the Anderson’s.”
“I’m so sorry we can’t have dinner as a family.”
I can see true regret in her eye.
As if this is truly her fault.
“Oh don't worry about it mom.”
–I reply.
Hoping to convey my feelings.
She sighs.
I can tell she’s in pain.
“Just focus on getting better.”
–I tell her.
“I will baby.”
–She says.
“Now get going, I don’t want to keep you.”
I smile.
“Ok mom. I love you.”
“I Love you too baby-girl.”
Soon I’m on the road heading for the Anderson’s.

I sat on my bed for an hour before I heard the door bell.
As I walked to the entree way, I glanced around the house.
Julie and I had gotten Christmas Decorations up.
Santa Clause and his Sleigh.
Snowman's.
Stockings.
After thirty minutes of deciding, we hung John’s stocking.
‘Even if he isn’t with us.’
‘He is still a part of us.’
Julie had told me.
When I answer the door, she smiles.
Her purple sweater is a nice color against her light skin and blonde hair.
The wind whips her curls around.
I step back allowing her inside.
Mom appears around to corner smiling.
Wiping her hands on her apron as she says,
“Oh Julie dear I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Me too Mrs. Anderson.”
“Can I help with anything?”
“Oh yes dear that would be wonderful.”
–Mom replies.
Julie follows my mom into the kitchen, turning to smile at me.
I end up heading back to my room.
Sitting on my bed.
Thinking.
I seem to do a lot more thinking recently.
Fights John and I had long ago resurface.
Fights were I had clearly been wrong but to thick headed.
Days were John and I didn’t even speak.
Simply passing each other to head to different activities.
Football.
Dates.
Homework.
Practices.
Life.
I was interrupted when Julie peaked around the door.
Summoning me to dinner.
Ham.
Mashed potatoes.
Corn.
Bread.
Everything sat on the table.
Everyone took a seat.
Dad prays.
Mom passes the food.
Julie eats.
I eat.
We talk about going back to school.
Different classes being offered.
New Principal.
We are still on school related subjects when the phone begins to ring.
Mom waits a second and then stands up.
She answers.
I was about to place a spoon of mash potatoes in my mouth.
When I glance at my mom for a hint of who was calling.
Her face was that depicted of pure shock.
I could only guess who was on the other end of the line.

It is a rather quiet dinner.
However not uncomfortable.
No awkward silences.
It’s nice having no one feel the need to fill the air with useless speech.
The clanging of silverware on china plates.
The wine glasses filled with sparkling grape juice.
Due to the comfortable silence, the ring of the phone splits the air.
I jump.
However It simply startles me.
Mrs. Anderson stands up to answer it.
Mr. Anderson.
Carter.
And I continue eating.
I listen to Mrs. Anderson talk as I chew.
“Yes, she’s here.”
“What?”
“Yes, I will bring her right away.”
“Yes, yes good-bye Jack.”
Slowly I stop chewing.
The meat in my mouth seeming to stick to my tongue and throat.
At the mention of my fathers name, I recall everything that had just been said.
I realized I was the only one still chewing.
Mr. Anderson and Carter are looking at Mrs. Anderson.
Mrs. Anderson is practically dropping the phone as she turns to grab her keys.
“Honey.”
She says, looking at me.
“It’s your mom.”
Silent tears start to roll down my face.
As I stand up, pushing my chair back I feel dizzy.
Carter who is sitting next to me steadies me.
He stands up and leads me around the table.
Somehow I make it to the car.
Im sitting in the back seat.
Carter has his arm around me.
My head on his shoulder.
I notice my fingernails are digging into my arm.
I try and take a deep breath.
Releasing the hold of my flesh.
Breath in.
Breath out.
In.
Out.
In.
It’s not working.
I force myself to exhale.
I Choke on a sob.
Carter smooths my hair.
“What, what did he say?”
–I choke out.
“Your dad said your mom’s condition has worsened greatly.”
“Is that is?”
–I ask.
“He asked me to bring you up right away.”
“He said the sooner the better.”
I close my eyes.
Which turns out to be a bad idea.
A picture of mom.
Machines beeping.
Her heart rate dropping as the disease takes over.
I see the Hospital entrance.
The sky is getting dark.
I don’t bother to look at the time.
It won’t matter if I don’t make it to see her on time
-I think.

She keeps taking shallow breaths.
I stroke her hair.
Trying to calm her.
She asks my mom a few questions.
Small tears slowly cascade down her cheeks.
I try to keep my breathing even.
Her head rest on my shoulder.
I watch as the hospital entrance draws closer.

Once I leave the car, everything is a blur.
Until I’m standing just behind the door.
I cant force myself to knock.
To even enter.
The unknowns are to great.
What will I see?
Will I be able to hold it together?
I already feel like a piece of fabric.
Torn.
Stretched.
Unraveling at the ends.
Somehow I push open the door.
I take in the room quickly.
Machines everywhere.
Wires everywhere.
Tubes everywhere.
Beeping everywhere.
And then it all stops.
Just like that.
As if someone has pulled the plugs.
I then notice the bed.
I can make out my moms face.
An oxogen mask on her mouth and nose.
My dad kneeling beside her.
Holding her hand.
I feel closer to loosing it.
I take steps forward.
My moms eyes open slightly.
She moves her lips but no words come out.
Then she slowly puts her hand over her heart.
And I understand.
Its a combination of things.
She loves me.
She will always love me.
I will always be in her heart.
And she will always be in mine.
In that one movement.
I understood.
I heard my dad cry aloud.
Her eyes closed.
Her chest went up.
And then down.
I didn’t need a monitor to read a flat line.
I knew she was gone.
And I might as well be.

Two funerals.
One month.
It doesn't seem real.
Even though I never knew Julie’s mom.
The sting of her loss is great.
Julie won’t answer her phone.
I’ve decided she needs some time.
Mr. White asked to burry Julie’s mom next to John.
My parents agreed.
They talk about how each can watch over the other.
I think its all bullshit.
But it sounds nice.
I can’t help but check my phone every five minutes.
She still hasn’t responded.

Broken.
Beaten.
Battered.
Lost.
Deserted.
Living life in a hell hole.
Just day to day task require strenuous effort.
Waking up.
Getting out of bed.
Just moving.
I’ve stopped eating.
I can barley stand to shower without tears falling.
I can’t move into a single room without feeling her.
Her presence.
Her perfume.
Her jewelry.
The couch she picked out years ago.
The old quilt she always used.
The magazines she would read.
Her coffee cup.
With her lipstick mark fading.
I sit on my bed.
It’s late.
I’ve cried all day.
Will cry all night.
I’m not at peace.
But at least I’m not crying.
Dad keeps asking if I want to see a councilor.
He tells me its normal to feel the way I feel.
But I don’t think he understands.
I told him to just give me some time.
He told me to remember it was an option.
But as I sit on my bed.
I feel alone.
On a desolate island.
I’ve lost almost all feeling.
I cross my arms.
Just trying a simple task.
My nails dig into my flesh.
Some drawing blood.
But I only notice when I uncross my arms.
And see red smears.
My mind starts swimming.
Drowning in thoughts.
My subconscious tries to push the ideas away.
But my need is to great.
Slowly I stand up.
Glancing around my room.
I don’t even note its disarray.
Until I glance at a broken purple vace.
In the corner of my room.
I don’t remember it breaking.
I don’t remember picking up the pieces.
I only remember the feeling.
I could feel again.
I remember moving to the bathroom.
And throwing up.

Two more days.
I give her two more days.
I tell her that.
Texting her.
Calling her.
Leaving voicemails.
Two more days before I come over.
Something in the pit of my stomach.
Something tells me things aren't right.
But I have to wait.
I want her to come around.
To knock on the door.
To come in.
To be like it was.
Two more days.

Big hoodies.
And sweatpants.
My new attire.
Not that anyone would notice.
Only I.
Only I can know.
No one else can know.
No one else will ever know.
I don’t have to pull the sleeves up.
Or roll the pant legs up.
I know what hides beneath them.
I sit on my bed.
Clutching the old quilt.
When I hear the doorbell ring.
I don’t move.
Listening.
My dad answers.
He then closes the door.
I lean my head against the pillow.
But then someone knocks on my door.
I sit up.
“Come in.”
–I say.
I feel shocked to see Carter slowly open the door.
He steps into my room.
His movements are uneasy.
But his face is determined.
“Hey.”
–He says.
“Hi.”
–I reply.
“Sooo, i’ve been worried about you.”
–He says.
“I’m fine.”
–I say.
But I’ve never been a good liar.
Tears roll down my face
I close my eyes.
Willing myself to stop.
Stop being ridiculous.
But then he’s there.
Wrapping his arms around me.
“You don’t have to lie to me Julie.”
–He says.
“I know.”
–I choke out.

Once I enter her room.
I get this funny feeling.
But I can’t put my finger on it.
She’s sitting on her bed.
Her hair pulled in a messy bun.
A baggy Sweatshirt.
Grey sweatpants.
Dark circles under her eyes.
She seems tense.
Guarded.
Her arms are crossed.
As if she’s holding herself together.
I ask how she is.
She lies to me.
And then she starts to cry.
She ducks her head.
Tears sliding down her face.
And I move to do what I do best.
Duct-tape doesn't fix everything.
–I think to myself.
I hold her tight.
She leans into me.
“How are you handling things?”
–I ask.
She doesn't look up.
She simply shakes her head.
“If you don’t feel like talking....”
–I start.
“Lets get something to eat.”
I stand up.
Walk to her closet.
Grab a pair of slippers.
Setting them on the bed next to her.
“Come on Julie.”
–I encourage.

He gives me my slippers.
I put them on.
Standing up slowly.
He is patient with me.
Giving me time.
He snatches a brush off my dresser.
Handing it to me.
I run it through my hair.
Pulling the tangles out.
And then placing it back in a bun.
And then he leads me downstairs.
“Mr. White?”
–He calls.
“Yes?”
My dad says.
Appearing in the living room.
“Is it alright to take Julie out for lunch?”
He nods.
“Thank you sir.”
Carter is so polite.
We get to his black honda.
He opens the door for me.
The memories of John doing the same thing are sharp.
They sting.
I bite back tears.
I can’t do this to him.
Once I’m seated I pull the sleeves of my hoodie down.
Clutching them in my fist.

Once we’re in the car.
She seems to relax a little.
I understand.
The house holds so many memories.
But here.
In the car.
There are no memories.
“Any preference where you want to eat?”
–I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Alright.”
I turn the radio on softly.
And blast the heat.
Glancing at the small temperature scan on the mirror.
48 Degrees.
Soon after, I notice she closes her vents.
“Warm?”
–I ask.
She nods.
“Come on Julie.”
–I plead.
Say something.
She looks at me.
“Say what?”
–She asks.
“Anything.”
–I say smiling.
“How have you been handling things?”
–She asks.
“I don’t want to talk about me.”
–I tell her.
“Ok.”
–She says quietly.
“How. Have. You. Been. Handling. Things.”
–I ask her.
Enunciating every word.
Specifying I want an answer.
“I don’t know.”
–She says.
“Pathetic.”
I tell her.
She looks at me.
And sighs aloud.

I only did it once.
I’ve never planned on doing it again.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I haven't seen Julie in about a week.
I’m worried about her.
Mom says I need to give her space.

Sometimes I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into.
Other times it feels like its become a part of me.
A part that will forever be with me.

I’m not waiting any longer.
I get my moms keys.
Heading to her honda.
Im soon on my way.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I didn’t sleep last night.
So I’m tired as can be.
I’ve spent the morning on my bed.
Music playing.
As it nears two o’clock I realize I should eat something.
I head to the kitchen.
I’m standing in the pantry.
There’s a knock on the door.
I took a chance two days ago.
By turning my phone on.
I waited till 67 messages buzzed in.
With more coming.
Before I turned it off.
I head to the front door.
Walking through the house, I look for dad.
He must be in his room.
Working on his prayer guide.
I finally get to the door.
I open it.
And there he stands.
Dark Blue Jeans.
Black jacket.
Turquoise shirt underneath.
A grey beanie.
Curls of brown hair stuck out underneath the hat.
Carter stands in my doorway.
Smiling.
He holds his hands out.
As if standing in the pouring rain.
And thats when I notice.
Its starting to snow.

Why is she still so distant?
Always pulling at her sleeves.
Clenching them in her fist.
Hugging her chest.
As though she’s about to fall to pieces.
It takes effort to make her smile.
Sometimes I think she does so I’ll leave her alone.
But I’m scared to.
I continuously catch her staring out in the distance.
But when I ask her what she’s thinking about.
She gives a fake smile.
And tells me nothing.
I keep telling her she doesn't have to fake it.
But she will just look at me.
And sigh.

Dad brought up the therapist again.
He says he’s noticed I’m not eating much.
Im thankful thats all he’s noticed.
I told him I’ll make a point to work on my appetite.
That made him smile.
Ever since mom died.
Dads pretty much locked himself in his room.
Doing some Bible Study a pastor gave him.
I think I have one too.
Its somewhere in my room.
I don’t plan to use it.
It’s lunch time.
So I go to the kitchen.
Intent on making a sandwich.
But when it comes to pulling a knife out to spread PB&J.
I leave with a granola bar.
Sometimes I know I’m getting worse.
Others I still feel fine.
Which is better than before.
But other days I know I’m not fine.
It’s like being sucked in a hole.
You can still see the light above.
As long as that light is shining.
Your just fine.

School started 2 months ago.
But it’s so routine.
Monday thru Friday I’m like a robot.
It helps that robots don’t have feelings.
Because being back at school is harder than I thought.
John was a football player.
Not the star quarter back.
But part of the team nevertheless.
His teachers, now my teachers, all loved him.
He was a star student.
His friends all miss him.
They all loved him.
Some of my friends from last year still say Hi in the halls.
But conversations never travel farther than that.
I need some space before I grow any relationships.

School is awful.
So many memories of John.
So many blank stares.
So many ‘I’m sorry for you loss”.
So many whispers behind my back.
So many taps on the shoulder and small smiles.
As if thats going to help.
Dad practically forces me to go to school.
If he can still work.
I can go to school.
I know its time to keep moving on.

Spring Break.
Most family’s plan vacations.
A trip of some sort.
Or friends get together.
Promising to do something every day of freedom.
Some teachers slack off.
Giving you nothing.
They obviously just don’t want to grade anything.
And some teachers load you up.
Giving you extra work.
‘To fill the time and give you something to do.’
My teachers decided to slack off.
And for once.
I wish they hadn’t.
Because unlike most families.
My family wasn’t going anywhere.
My friends were.
Luke, the one friend who made an effort to talk to me.
Would be gone to New York to see his sister.
I was stuck at home.
And yet, so was someone else.
If she would only answer my text.

First day of Spring Break.
But you know that feeling.
Spring fever?
The feeling of being free for a whole week?
The feeling you can do anything.
Within the time constraints of a week.
Well I feel as far away from that feeling as possible.
In fact.
I’ve lost almost all feeling.
Memories of past spring break vacations flood my mind.
Memories I try to push away.
But still come forward.
Tears start to run down my face.
But I don’t feel the sadness.
Or the hurt.
Or the pain.
I’ve blocked the feelings.
Trying to give myself some relief.
As if shutting off my feelings will help me function.
But it only worsens.
Scars and Cuts don’t make an impact anymore.
It’s as if my tool has stopped working.
Im falling into a hole.
And the light is fading fast.
Faster.
And faster.
Until.
I’m. Standing. In. Darkness.

I’ve been bored as heck for almost 3 days.
I’ve got to do something.
Sitting in an empty house.
With only my thoughts for company.
Maybe I should get a dog?
Mom’s home sleeping on her day off.
Meaning I can use the car.
I go to grab my phone.
And i notice one new message.
The envelope bouncing.
As Julie’s name flashes on the screen.
I press view. 
In my anticipation I click the wrong button twice.
But even before I read the words.
I get a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Carter. I can’t do this anymore.
I turn.
Racing down the hall to the garage.
I fling the door open.
And having the engine going before the doors even swung shut.
I back out of the driveway.
Pushing the gas pedal faster and faster.
Praying for no cops.
I have to get there.
I don’t know what I’ll find.
But I have to get there.
Please God.

The light is gone.
Im standing in darkness.
I can’t see.
I can’t feel.
I can’t breath.
I take gasping breaths.
Something tells me to grab my phone.
I turn it on.
As it vibrates in my hand.
I barley feel it.
I don’t know how long it takes.
But I look down and realize I have 87 messages bouncing.
I clear them all quickly.
And type out a message.
Pressing send to.
And fine his name.
I send it before I can change my mind.
I then force myself to stand up.
But then crash of the floor.
Sobbing.
I lay there.
Hoping I’d never have to move again.

I pull into the driveway.
Yanking the keys out of the ignition.
I open and slam the drivers door.
Sprinting to the house.
I don’t bother knocking.
Pulling the spare key out from behind a plant.
I open the door.
Leaving it that way.
I sprint down the hall and up the stairs.
Racing toward her room.

I lay on my floor.
Almost dried up.
No tears left in my body.
I’m dizzy.
Sick to my stomach.
I force myself to stand.
Realizing my only option.
Once I’m standing, I feel faint.
I barley make it to the bathroom before I throw up.
But there’s barley anything in my system to vomit.
Causing me to gag.
I open the cabinet above the sink.
Pulling bottles out and dropping them.
Until I find the orange one with a child proof lid.
I take a step back and slide my back against the wall.
My hands are shaking.
My head is pounding.
I’ve decided to go through with this.
I won’t turn back.

She isn’t in her room.
I turn.
Noticing one other open door along the hall.
I run.
My feet making almost no sound on the carpet.
I slide to a stop in front of the bathroom.
I do a combination of a jump and slide.
Yanking the bottle from her hands and tossing it out the door.
Wrapping my arms around her.
She screams.
And attempts to kick.
I’m strong than her though.
I hold her tight.
“Julie!”
–I yell.
“Julie did you take any pills?”
–I demand.
“Julie, answer me!”
She shakes her head slowly.
Relief washes over me.
Like a waterfall.
I sit on the bathroom floor.
Holding her as tight as I can.
Thankful that she is still her.
I notice the bottles on the ground.
Using my feet.
I kick them far out of reach.

He barges in.
Yanking the bottle from my hand.
I attempt to scream at him.
It comes out horse.
My thoughts are all jumbled.
I’m shaking.
But I can’t tell if I’m cold.
He hugs me tight.
Squeezing me.
As if he’s trying to hold me together.
I try to catch my breath.
Feeling like a train as it picks up speed.
I either catch my breath.
Or stop breathing.

Her breathing finally starts to calm down.
I release one hand and stoke her hair.
Her arms hang limp at her side.
She’s still shaking.
So I pick her up.
Holding her like a baby.
I walk down the stairs.
Her eyes close.
But I see the rise and fall of her chest.
Her breathing is much calmer.
I gently lie her on the couch.
Pulling an old quilt off the back.
I drape it over her.
I then pull out my cell phone.
Dialing 911.

I sit on the couch.
Dad sits across from me.
Working a word search.
I sit with my moms quilt wrapped around me.
When the doorbell rings.
I’m not surprised.
Dad doesn't even look up.
He knows who’s here.
After a month and a half in the hospital.
And 3 months of therapy.
For the first time ever.
I’ve invited carter to my house.
I’ve seen him a little since the incident.
But he looked pretty shaken up.
More so than me at times.
I was glad when he agreed to come over.
I drop the quilt and walk to the door.
Opening it.
I see him smile.
But before I can say hello.
He uncaps a black sharpie.
Reaches for my arm.
In big, bold letters.
He writes.
No Words.
Just love.
And then.
He takes a step forward.
Puts his arms around my waist.
And kisses me.

Sometimes, people ask me.
If it’s weird.
Or strange.
Or awkward.
To date my boyfriends brother.
And at first.
It crossed my mind too.
But at moments like this.
Sitting on his couch.
One arm around my shoulder.
Holding me tight.
The other holding my hand.
Those thoughts couldn’t be farther from my mind.
Carter isn’t just my boyfriend.
Or even just my best friend.
He’s my rescuer.
On that day.
May 3rd. 2009.
Without him.
I might very well not be here.

Sometimes, my friends ask me.
When was it that I fell for her?
And I tell them.
It was the day I almost lost her.
That I knew I needed her most.
The day she almost left me.
Was the day I knew I belonged with her.
They then go on to ask me:
And how many times did you ask her to go out with you?
And I tell them: 3 times.
One for every year we’ve been together.
And then they ask for clarification.
You’ve been together three years?
And thats when I smile.
And tell them.
Three is just a number.
But Yes I have.
And even though its only been three years.
I love her more than words can describe.