Page 13 of Without You

“What? And miss out on you rescuing me once a month?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s okay to replace it, you know?”

I shove my hands in my pockets and blow out a loud breath. “I know all those things Bill, it still doesn’t make it any easier to do.” My eyes flick from the nothingness behind him and back to meet his eyes. “Thank you for helping me out.”

“One day you’ll stop thanking me,” he states.

“And one day you’ll stop helping me out.”

“I owed you one, anyway.”

I look at him quizzically.

“Every time I come into the bar, you just let me be. No questions. No judgments. No rushing.”

“Guess we’re even.”

Bill looks down at his watch and then back up at me. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to run.”

“Of course.”

He pulls me in for an unexpected hug, and a ball of emotion gets lodged in my throat. “I know it’s hard, but don’t be a stranger, son.”

3

Deacon

Leaving Seattle in the dead of the night, I arrive back in Billings, Montana by midday. Wade’s always on me about being too stingy to buy a plane ticket when I visit, but I like the drive. I like the long open roads, the peace and quiet, and the feeling that you’re constantly moving. It’s the only time I don’t mind being left alone with my own thoughts.

I also like to be in control of where I’m going and when I’m going. And on the off chance I need to get away, which happens a lot when I’m around my mother, I don’t want to have to depend on someone else or awkwardly deal with public transportation. I want to be able to walk away, take a moment for myself, and just breathe whenever I want to.

I pull up at the cemetery and park in the row of spots opposite of Rhett’s plot. Braving the winter, I drag my thickly padded coat and beanie off the passenger seat, before climbing out of the car.

Shrugging into the sleeves, and covering my cold head, I open the back door and grab the small bag of candy.

Dragging my feet, I wonder to myself why this never gets easier. Isn’t time supposed to heal all wounds? Yet, every time is like the first time, the reminder I’m living in a world without my brother crushing me all over again.

When I reach the gray-colored marble headstone, I place the bite-sized bag of candy corn on the top and hold my hand on the cold surface, feeling strangely close to Rhett.

“So you’re the guy that leaves these here,” a voice calls out behind me.

I startle at the interruption, but am quickly consumed by a prickle of annoyance and a heavy dose of recognition.

Julian

Wanting the ground to swallow me whole, I don’t turn around or acknowledge his presence.

Fallen leaves crunch underneath his feet, every step warning me of his impending closeness.

“I wondered who it was that knew Rhett well enough to leave that god awful candy here every other week.” Not sure what to say, I stay silent. “To be honest,” he continues. “I thought it was your mom or your sister.”

I don’t know why the idea of my mom leaving little gifts for Rhett makes me laugh, but it does. It’s not a loud bellow, but a low rumble in my chest that surprises me.

“She hated that he loved them,” I supply, acknowledging his presence.

“That she did. Like his preferences personally offended her,” he says with humor. Unexpectedly, his shoulder brushes against mine, as he steps up beside me. Caught off guard, I move a fraction so we’re no longer touching. His tightly pressed lips tell me he noticed; but instead of calling me out on it he just continues rambling on about the candy.

“Actually, looking back, I don’t know how I didn’t know it was you. You had a never-ending stash when we were younger. You collected them and would sneak them into his room.”

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