Page 105 of The Breaking Pointe
It’ll be the reason my brother wants nothing to do with me. Adding to the multitude of stress, Trey had been helping Steven and I move him into my place for the time being. At least until he starts college. Even when I think I’ll be okay with sending him off on his own, I suddenly know exactly what my mother meant when she would freak out over one of her baby birds leaving the nest. It’s like sending them to war.I know what this world is capable of—but he has no idea. He’s still a child, in my eyes.There’s still so many lessonsto be learned where he’ll find himself needing a mother or father, and he won’t have either one to call. I can be present
and lend him every limb I have in order for him to triumph, but I can’t replace our parents.
As for my mother’s belongings, I’m stuck.I can’t bringmyself to touch anything or take it from its place just yet. I’m not sure when I will.Until then, I’m more focused on the part of me that felt like it sailed away the minute Noelle told me she had passed.The awful, lonely, crippling feeling.I experienced just about all of the firsts with my parents.I saw everything.From the moments they argued to the moments when it was just my mom, and all she could feel was alone. Down to the nights that she would only be able to cry and say,“It’s just me and you against the world, Cole.Nobody else.”
My heart can’t seem to let go of those memories without a fight.
And now, it’s just me.Suddenly, I’m not twenty-seven anymore, but instead, I’m five-years-old again, and I know nothing.
The burial is the longest part of funerals.Waiting for everyone to arrive at the grave to give a last goodbye feels like centuries. Then if that isn’t enough, you have to watch your loved one go six feet deep into soil in slow motion.Now thatit’sallover,theheavyfeelinginmyheadisgaining up on me again. While everyone is leaving, my dress shoes are planted in the grass, my eyes are stuck memorizing the details of the box my mother lays inside.
This is what hollowness feels like.
“Cole, man—I gotta get going.I have work I have to finish,” Trey says after marching up to me through the damp grass.“You gonna be alright?”His eyes squint a bit as he questions me.
My hands stuffed in my pockets, I detach my eyes from
the hole in the ground and look at him.
“I keep looking at the hole as if it’ll disappear—and that this will all be a fabrication in my mind,” I say, blankly.
The pause of silence between us tells me he can’t find anything good to say to me. Not that I’m sure there would be anything good to say at all.
“I’m sorry.I wish I had better advice for this,” he says, his tone guilty and mellow.
My eyes waver back to the hole. He looks at Noelle who’s standing close beside me, then at me.
“Be good to yourself, okay? I love you like my own little brother,” he says before looking at Noelle again.“Just… watch him for me, okay?” He pats my shoulder, giving me one last look before he starts on his way.
Getting a glimpse of his exit, I catch the sight of Steven on a nearby bench, looking defeated.
“I know everyone is basically gone now—but we can stay, if you want?” Noelle prods, rubbing my bicep as she speaks at a measured volume.
I shake my head. “No, I need to get Steven home. I’m sure he wants to get out of here.” I sigh, pulling my hands from my pockets, using one to search for one of her hands.
Shetakesit,followingmetocollectSteven.
* * *
Throughout the day, the vision of her in the casket sits in my head. It’s equally as bothersome as all of the other visuals I get when I close my eyes.It doesn’t over powerthe one of my father, but it comes pretty close.
Ithoughtafewbeerswouldmakemefeelsomethingother
than sorrow, but I was incorrect with that assumption. It’s beer number three, and I’m still feeling nothing.To boot, Noelle’s been sleeping soundly while I throw them back and sit in my art room with multiple distractions. It’s not a lot— but working on Noelle’s music box is something.It’s coming along, too.I just need to somehow tune it, and then I can mold it all back together.I wish it was this easy to fix myself.
What a trick of the trade that would be.I’d never have a problem again.
As expected, Steven is hidden, too.That part I can’t bestow judgment upon, as I, too, would rather isolate myself and hide from the world.Right now, it isn’t offering anything worth my while. And unsurprisingly, I think I managed to stay awake longer than everyone else.If I’m going to stay awake and dwell, I should do it alone. All I have to blame are the racing thoughts in my head and the endless tantalization of horrible possibilities to come.I finally got some peace and quiet, and I don’t want it.
I wantanythingbut it.
Getting up from the wooden stool, I chug the last bit of my beer, stepping out of the art room and into the dining room, tossing the can in the trash.As I pass the couch, I take a few throw blankets that were draped along the back and lay them over Noelle and Bonnie as my last task before walking down the hall to the guest room. Clearing my throat silently, I give the door a gentle knock.
Getting no response, I knock once more, waiting a few seconds until I deem it time to possibly freak out.
Opening the door, slowly, I announce myself, “Steve, it’s me. You alright?” I look around, inspecting the scene and seeing him lay in the middle of the bed, staring at the ceiling.
“Fine,”hemurmurs.
