Let Love Live (The Love Series #5) (36 page)

“Suicide, you mean.” The sarcastic cynicism of my clarification doesn’t go unnoticed on her end.

She nods, “Okay, then. Tell me what happened after his suicide.” Nothing in her tone reacts to the nastiness in mine, making me feel all the more foolish for snapping at her.

Like a dog with its tail between its legs, I apologize. “Sorry.” She nods again, cool and collected, waiting for me to answer her.

Simmering in my own frustration, I bounce my leg in nervousness – or avoidance. “There’s not much to say.” She shoots me a look of disbelief. “Fine.” I return the look. “When I went home, I tried to see Reid. I tried to get to the funeral, but I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t? How so?” Dr. Baker rests her elbows on the arms of the chair, settling back comfortably, as if she already knows it will be a long story.

The entire drive home, I kept repeating to myself that it couldn’t be real. Ignoring call after call from my mom and Reid, I knew that he was gone, but somehow by not talking to anyone right away, it made it less real.

The reality was just a delay of the inevitable. I pulled into my driveway, already feeling Shane’s absence. Mom stood in the doorway, arms hugging her waist as she watched me walk up to her.

“Mom,” I croaked, sadness thick in my throat. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she shook her head. “No, no… it can’t… please tell me he’s not…”

“Oh, baby.” Sobs overtook her body. She extended her arms and pulled me against her. “I’m so sorry, but he is.” She whispered her words against the top of my head.

“It’s all my fault,” I screamed, pushing away from her. “He’s dead because of me.”

Mom swiped at her cheeks, wiping away the tears. “It is
not
your fault. Not one bit, honey.”

The crippling realization of my new world – a one in which Shane no longer existed – weakened my legs, making standing impossible. I crashed to the step, the hard concrete scraping at my legs in the process. It was a welcomed pain, a physical bite I could deal with, vastly different from the emotional grief I couldn’t.

We sat there for a long time – though, to be honest, every minute felt like an eternity. She rubbed circles on my back and I cried on her shoulder. Even though she attempted to fill me in on the details of what she knew, I mostly blocked them out. They didn’t matter. He was gone and there was nothing I could do to change it.

“When is the funeral?” I asked, my voice a shaky mess.

She cradled my face, sweeping my hair out of my eyes. “Tomorrow morning.” She placed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Your father and I will go with you.” There was no point in challenging her. I’d need them by my side, anyway.

At night, I lay in my bed. Restlessness and gnawing pain made it impossible to sleep. The only thing that brought me any kind of comfort was the quiet lull of Shane’s voice on playing on an endless loop from my phone. I fell asleep with the phone against my ear, memories of Shane playing through my dreams.

When the phone rang, my heart lurched into my throat. Through blurry eyes, nearly swollen shut from crying, I somehow managed to make out Reid’s number. “What’s wrong? It’s two in the morning?” No greeting necessary.

“Whend’ya get back?” His drunken words slurred over the line.

I sat up in bed, scrubbed a hand over my face. “Where are you?”

“Doesn’t matter. Not home. That’s for sure.” There was music thumping wildly in the background.

“I’ll come pick you up. Tell me where you are.” I shrugged on a pair of jeans and put on a sweatshirt. As I grabbed my keys off the desk, I heard him mumble something incoherent.

“Reid. Tell me where you are.”

The sounds of whatever party he was at moved in waves through the phone line. “Why did this happen to him? Why Shane?” His words transformed into yelled curses. When his fit of anger had run its course, the sound of retching came across the line. The phone hit the ground.

“Reid, pick up the damn phone. Reid. Reid!” My yelling was pointless. Footsteps approached my door. My father tapped lightly, “Everything okay in there?” He peeked his head in, a worried and tired look plastered to his face.

“Yeah, Dad. Sorry. It’s Reid. He’s drunk somewhere and I was going to go pick him up before he got hurt or in trouble. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s okay.” His face turned into one of concern. “Let me get changed. I’ll go with you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

As he walked out of my room, Reid’s voice came back on the line. “I’m at Nick’s.”

I told him to stay there, that I’d be there in a few minutes to get him.

By the time my father and I arrived at Nick’s, the party had died down to a lull. A few kids were passed out on the lawn, one of whom was Reid. Luckily, as I scanned the cars in the driveway, I didn’t notice Reid’s. At least he was smart enough not to drive there.

Looping an arm under each of his, Dad and I hoisted Reid up from the lawn and managed to slide him into the back seat without too much trouble. It was a silent drive to Reid’s house. When we approached his house, the front porch light flickered on.

Dad pulled into the driveway and Reid’s mom approached the car. She leaned into the driver’s side door. “Thank you, Ben. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him all night.” Her voice was hushed and raspy; exhaustion hung on every word.

“It’s no problem.” Dad and I got out of the car and helped Reid up to the front porch. He’d sobered up enough to at least realize he was at his own home. Stumbling warily, he walked through the door and up the stairs, leaving me, Rebecca, and my dad in the driveway.

“Dad, can you give us a minute?” There were some things I needed to say to Rebecca and I didn’t need Dad to be worried about me. “I’ll walk home in a few minutes.”

Dad nodded, offered his sympathies once more, and then pulled away.

Rebecca and I sat on the front porch, saying nothing for the first few minutes, letting the black silence of the late night settle around us.

“He loved you.” Her voice wobbled and she held a hand to her chest. She twisted to face me, a sad, lost look shining in her eyes.

I stammered, “I… he… he told you?”

“There are some things a mother doesn’t have to be told, but yes, he did tell me. But, I knew long before he did.” A weak smile pulled at one side of her mouth.

“I’m so sorry.” My emotions took over; my guilt for not coming back for him roiled dangerously in my stomach. “I should have come back, not shut him out. I could have saved him.”

She shook her head. Tears fell in rivers down her face. “
I’m
the one who could have saved him, taken him away from here.”

We could’ve sat on that porch for hours, days actually, and traded blame over who could’ve helped him and how we could’ve saved him, but the raw, brutal reality was that we couldn’t.

He was gone and there was no going back.

“I’m going to the funeral. I don’t care that he knew.” I tipped my head to the upstairs window where I knew Shane’s father lay quietly asleep and wholly unaffected by his son’s suicide.

Instantly, her back straightened; her senses went on high alert. “No, you can’t.” She shook her head furiously. “He’ll…” Whatever thoughts were flying through her head couldn’t be formed into words.

“I don’t care.” I shot up from where I was sitting, anger spurring me on. “Let him come down here and tell me what he thinks of me to my face, but he will
not
keep me from saying goodbye to Shane.”

She grabbed my arms as they flailed around in anger. “Shh. Dylan.” Her voice took on an urgent tone, drawing my attention away from cursing the window above us. “I’m serious. You can’t go.”

Seething, I tried to reign in my anger, tried desperately to make sense of what she was telling me. “No.” I shook my head, and pulled my arms from her grasp. “I loved him and he loved me and I need to say goodbye.” I was resolved; there was no talking me out of this. I’d already lost him, but there was no way in hell I was not going to say goodbye.

“I wish you’d listen to me.” Her puffy, red eyes begged me, pleaded with me.

“No… I…”

“He has a gun.” Her words cut through my final protests. “Dylan, just… I know you need to say goodbye, but please, don’t show up tomorrow. For your own safety.” Her last words fell from trembling lips.

Both of us craned our heads to the front door. The loud thudding of stumbling footsteps came from inside, followed by a booming, “Rebecca, where the fuck are you?”

“Go,” she whispered, pushing me down the stairs. “You have to go. Now!” I tumbled and landed in the front bushes just as he opened the door. Without being seen, I was able to scramble to the side of the porch, hidden from his sight.

“Who were you talking to?” Even in the dark, I saw his beady eyes scanning the porch and front yard for someone, for me, even though he didn’t know it was me.

“I just couldn’t sleep. Needed a breath of fresh air. That’s all.” Her eyes were cast downward, her voice no more than a soft, obedient noise.

“You’re lying.” His hand wrapped too tightly around her frail upper arm and she squeaked in pain. “I heard a car. Someone’s out here.” His tone was laced with paranoia.

Tugging hard on her arm, he shoved her up against the wall. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” There was a maniacal quality to his words, a sneering laughter as he pushed her once more.

“You’re hurting me,” she cried, trying but failing to push back against him. Gaining leverage on his large frame was proving pointless. He released his grip on her arm and I felt like I could breathe again. He would leave her alone for now; they’d walk inside and I would walk home and figure out what to do about tomorrow.

When his hand flew in the air and landed with a loud smack against her cheek, that plan went out the window. She fell to the floor on a howling wail. He stood over her, his leg cocked back ready to kick her in the ribs.

“Leave her alone!” I knew what Rebecca had told me about his gun was probably true, but I couldn’t sit there and just let him beat her.

Like he’d just seen a ghost, he stared at me. Eyes wide and mouth agape, he looked like he couldn’t figure out what to say. Rebecca scrambled to her feet, slid behind the door. “Dylan, leave. Please just leave.” I barely heard her words over the blood pounding in my ears, over the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“She’s right, fag.” He spat the last word, a curse meant to insult, but all it did was enrage me even more. Though he loomed over me, I stood my ground. “Didn’t you get my message?” His head titled to the side; a vicious look of murderous intention transformed his face.

An icy cold chill rushed over me. “Yeah, and I have no intention to listen to you.” I held strong to my conviction, but deep down, I knew I was fighting a losing battle. He was clearly unstable and there was no reasoning with insanity. “You can threaten me all you want and you can pretend Shane wasn’t who he was, but I loved him and he loved me and there’s nothing you can do to change that.” My voice rose in anger as he stepped directly in front of me. In my periphery, I saw Rebecca move away from the door. He turned to her as if he sensed that she would interfere.

“Stay there,” he commanded, and, out of fear, she listened.

His mouth pulled into an ugly sneer as he looked down at me. “Go ahead. Show up tomorrow. See if you can get in.” And then, as if he’d had enough of me, he simply turned and walked away, dragging Rebecca by the arm as if he were some kind of caveman.

When I got home, Dad was waiting for me, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t sleep at all, and when the sun rose early the next morning, I got ready for Shane’s funeral.

My stomach lurched up in my throat when we pulled into the funeral parlor parking lot. Police cars flanked the building and an officer on each side guarded the entrance. Dad parked the car and turned in his seat. “You guys stay here. Let me see what’s going on.” Before he stepped out of the car, he looked over at Mom, a sad and resigned look on his face.

I watched the whole exchange from the backseat in utter disbelief. Dad began to wave his arms around angrily while the officer tried to keep him calm. He kept turning back to the car, and when he’d look back at the officer, his eyes were full of sorrowful begging. All the officer did was unfold a sheet of paper and shake his head.

Turning away from the officer, Dad pinched the bridge of his nose, and returned to the car. “Dad?”

“I’m sorry. They have an order of protection. You’re not allowed in. Something about slander.” Mom and Dad shook their heads in disbelief. As for me, I wasn’t that surprised. I had a feeling he’d keep me away. I just didn’t know he’d go to this length to do so.

“Let’s just go home then.”

I didn’t want to talk to anyone, so when we got home, I went straight up to my room. For hours, I watched out the window to catch a glimpse of the hearse passing down our block, driving Shane’s body past his home one last time.

It never did.

Exhausted from not having slept at all the night before and from the overwrought emotions of the morning, I spent the rest of that day sleeping. It wasn’t until around three the next morning that I woke.

I left a note for my parents and packed my bag. I just had one more stop to make before I left for good.

The freshly dug dirt was still piled in a mound atop his gravesite. I fell to the ground; all strength vanished the instant I saw his name etched in the cool, grey stone. As if it would bring me closer to him, I traced my shaking fingers over the letters. “I’m sorry…” I said it over and over again as if it would somehow absolve me of my guilt and ease me of my pain.