Page 3 of Without You

His ash brown hair is peppered with a new wave of grays that never existed before Rhett died. His cheeks hollow out as he takes a long, deep drag of his cigarette. With his reason for quitting no longer around, he’s taken the habit back up with a vengeance. Almost like he’s purposefully trying to kill himself.

Flicking the butt onto the sidewalk, he shoves his hands into his parka and blows out a large breath. Smoke mixed with the frigid air, surrounds him as he takes slow steps down the stairs. “You take care of yourself on the road, okay?”

A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow it down. I’ve never felt more lost than I do in this moment. It’s so obvious that Rhett was our talisman, the center of our family, the glue that held us together despite how different we all are.

When Dad’s close enough he pulls me into his arms, hugging me with everything he has. Even then, there’s little strength behind it, the hug a reflection of the weakness we’re all left feeling. My eyes fill with tears, because it’s one thing to know your parents love you, but it’s another to know you’re still never enough.

My mother joins in, her short arms stretching around us. Her touch is an added layer to the heartbreak. We’re so broken, so lost. Unsure of the future, and unable to let go of the past.

I feel Mom’s body tremble before the accompanying sob I’ve become accustomed to hearing follows.

“We love you, Deacon,” Dad supplies, his voice hoarse and strangled. “We love you so much.”

I wait for them to let me go, and rush to wipe my eyes, not wanting to break down in front of them, or at all. I’m not that type of guy, and when your parents are hanging on by a single thread, you don’t want to be the reason it frays.

My grief has no priority here. I will myself to be the stone wall everybody expects me to be as we part awkwardly. I don’t let myself dwell on the widening emotional gap between us, and I don’t wait for the words of comfort that will never come.

This is what life will be like moving forward, and I may as well start to get used to it. I moved away to become my own man, and to be my own person. Selfishly, I wanted to stand out and get away from everything I grew up around and in the worst possible way, my wish came true.

With a soft, sad smile, I turn away from my parents and walk back to my truck—head back to my life away from all of this.

It’s just me now. On my own. Alone.

* * *

The house isdark and cold, the last remnants of the sun descending on the drive over. There’s no heat on, no lights. If I didn’t know better, I would say nobody was home.

When my mother sent me over here with the spare key I didn’t anticipate that I would have to use it. But after the fourth unanswered ring of the doorbell, I’ve succumbed to the notion that Julian doesn’t want anyone over.

Going against every single voice in my head telling me to leave the box on the dining room table and the food in the fridge and begin my drive home, I quietly make my way through the moderately sized building, searching for him.

The further I walk intothe empty house, the need to see him and check on him, for Rhett, is overwhelming. Almost like I’m indebted to my brother for all the ways I failed him when he was alive, that maybe, just maybe, in death I can make it up to him.

I find the main bedroom and contemplate whether to knock or just walk in. Nerves wreak havoc on my body, as I push past the need to turn back around and go home.

I rap my knuckles on the door to announce my presence before making my way inside. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but a motionless Julian wasn’t it.

A small bedside lamp casts just enough light for me to get a good glimpse of the seemingly lifelessbody in front of me.

The ever-present cracks in my heart turn into fully-fledged breaks as I take in what he’s wearing. Laying on what looks like Rhett’s side of the bed, Julian is almost unrecognizable. Dressed in the suit he wore to the funeral, I realize he hasn’t changed, and possibly not even moved for two days.

His arms are wrapped tightly around a pillow, and with his back to me, I can’t tell if he’s awake or asleep, but the urge to find out hits me harder than expected.

My feet move before my mind can tell them to stop, and I find myself walking around the bed, until I’m crouched down beside him.

His eyes are open, staring and still. Hollow and vacant, he looks almost catatonic.

“Hey,” I whisper, hoping to break the silence. “I’m sorry for just coming by like this,” I ramble. “My mom gave me the key. She sent me over with some food.” Self-conscious, I scratch at my brow. “I brought over a box,” I start. “It’s from Rhett.”

It takes no time for his name to register, and Julian’s body and mind to react. If I wasn’t sitting so close to him, I’d miss it. The way his eyes slowly shift around the room. The way the pillow compresses even further under his hold.

Finally, his gaze finds mine; desolation and hopelessness swirling around in his eyes. Desperate for a lifeline, he stares at me, as if he’s waiting for what’s next.

I itch to touch him, to comfort him, but I settle on placing my hand on his shoulder instead, offering help the only way I know how. “How about we get you out of these clothes, okay?”

I rise to my feet and begin searching for something more comfortable. “I’m going to look through the drawers for some clothes,” I explain as I rummage through belongings that aren’t mine. Eventually I find everything he needs and turn to hand it to him.

He hasn’t moved, but the chill in the air seems to have blanketed itself over him. The numbness and stillness from moments ago is subsiding; his body now shivering relentlessly. His teeth chattering, loud and painful.

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