More Than Lies (29 page)

God, I’m pathetic. Here I am, my brother was killed and Shawn is still first and foremost in my mind.

“Dude, I’m—” I cut Shawn off from the apology I’m certain was about to fall from his lips.

“He was with me, Shane.” That’s true for the most part. He wasn’t here when I found out about my brother’s death, but when he got home…he made me forget, just like I asked him to do. It might have been a short reprieve, but it was the temporary relief I needed.

Shane trains his Caribbean blue-green eyes on his brother. They’re usually bright with a glow to them, but not today. He wasn’t happy with what he discovered when he walked into Shawn’s room earlier. That much was clear then, but I don’t care nor do I need his approval.

“Not exactly the type of consoling I needed you to do, brother,” he bites out the last word.

“And it’s none of your damn business, brother,” Shawn words are an equal bite back. “So back off.”

“Shawn,” it’s a warning from Shane through clinched teeth, but I’ve had enough. I won’t have Shane ruin what happened between Shawn and me.

“Stop it, both of you.” I can’t stop the tears that pool into my eyes. Before I can swipe them away, Shawn grasps onto my bicep and pulls me into his arms. He wraps one arm around my back while the hand from his other clasp the nap of my neck. My face plants in the center her his hard chest and without getting the chance to wipe my tears away they soak into his t-shirt. He doesn’t seem to care.

The sound of the door closing followed by Pam’s voice a few moments later has me pulling away from Shawn. Before I turn, I brush the back of my hands over my wet cheeks. For a brief moment, I’m met with resistance from Shawn. My eyes go up to his, but I can’t read him. His expression is neutral and then he releases me.

“Can someone tell us what happened? We wake up to the sound of an ambulance in the neighborhood and find it outside the Morgan’s house.” I twist around to see Bill walking up behind his wife. They both look distraught. If I had to guess, I’d imagine I look similar. “All I could get out of Brock was that Kylie had a panic attack over Tr—” She pauses unable to say my brother’s name as tears of her own fall. Bill puts his hands on her shoulders. “And none of you were answering your cell phones.”

“Tell us Brock was wrong and he isn’t…gone.” Even Bill can’t say the word either.

I just shake my head because saying that ugly word again will be my breaking point, I’m sure of it.

Pam’s sad eyes flick back and forth between Shane and me as if she’s unsure of whom to go toward first. Bill squeezes her shoulders before walking to Shane and pulling his son into a hug. Pam’s eyes remain on me.

“Honey.” It’s the only thing that comes out of her mouth. Pam sort of has a pet name for not only her own two kids, but for Trent and me, too. She’s always called me Honey. I’m not sure why that’s my pet name, but it’s what she’s called me for as long as I remember. It’s rare I hear her call me by, Taralynn.

She always refers to Shawn as baby, Shane’s bud or sometimes buddy, and Trent…Trent was kiddo, which never really fit in my opinion. Then again, I’ve never seen my brother as a kid.

I walk to her and allow the warmth of her motherly arms to envelop me. I don’t break though. It’s hard, but the tears stay at bay. Normally, I don’t hind my emotions from Pam. She’s one of the few people I’m comfortable around just be me. I think I’m doing it more so to protect myself from more pain. I can’t handle more than I’m dealing with now.

“So what happened last night, Shane?” It’s Shawn that voices his parents question again. I turn because I too would like to know the full story even if my heart isn’t prepared for it, yet.

“We left a friend’s house and were heading home on Interstate 55. Kylie wanted to beat the New Year’s crowd and be able to see the ball drop on TV. Trent was on his motorcycle. Kylie and I were in her car, following. It was late, but it wasn’t that late. I guess the time of day doesn’t really matter when someone drank too much and decides to drive.”

“What?” I ask, because I don’t want to assume my brother would do something so stupid. Trent’s smarter than that; he wouldn’t. “My brother wouldn’t drive after drinking. Especially not on his motorcycle.” I’m the one that’s gotten on the back of Jared motorcycle numbers times after drinking, sometimes too much. He doesn’t even carry a second riding helmet. What was I thinking?

“Not, Trent, but the guy that hit him, I’m certain he was drunk.”

“What makes you think that?” Bill inquires.

“Seconds before he slammed into Trent’s bike, I noticed his car swerving. After Trent took the impact the car fishtailed into an embankment and the man was ejected from the vehicle. He was also pronounced on the scene.” He breathes. “I’m sure they’ll have to do an autopsy on him to confirm any traces of alcohol.”

“Honey, grab your purse, okay. We’ll take you home.” Pam squeezes me before releasing me.

My parents.

I haven’t thought of them. God, I’m awful. What they must be going through at this very moment. I should be home.

“I…I need to pack a few things. I don’t have clothes at my parents’ house.” Unlike, Pam and Bill’s house, there I have a dresser full of clothes.

“Okay, we’ll leave when you are ready.”

I look back toward Shawn before exiting the kitchen. His eyes are sympathetic, but otherwise I can’t read what he’s thinking. I can’t dwell on it either.

It’s the day of Trent’s funeral.

Man, it’s surreal. I just saw him a week ago on Christmas night at a party. It’s not like we were tight, but I sure as hell didn’t think I’d be standing in my old room at my parents’ house, in front of this mirror, putting on a black suit for this reason.

I don’t think I’ve been to a funeral since I was a little kid and even then I don’t remember much about it other than the awkwardness of not knowing what to do or say when random people hugged me and started crying.

Will that be me, today? No, it won’t, but I do know one person who will be in tears. I’m a master at masking my emotions; Tara isn’t, except for when it comes to her parents.

I haven’t laid eyes on her in three days. She’s been at her parents’ house since my parents dropped her off Sunday morning.

As I tighten the knot on my grey tie a sound draws my attention to the here and now. It’s a soft melody. I’ve heard it before and I’d know the sound anywhere. It’s been nearly ten years since Shane’s played his guitar.

So why today I wonder.

He didn’t stop playing because of Trent. He stopped because he lost Whitney. I was a kid in middle school back then, but even I know Shane loved her. Even though he won’t admit it, it’s also why he hasn’t moved on. I don’t think he can.

I drop my hands from the fuck up job I’m doing. Yep, I’m a man that doesn’t know how to tie a tie.

Walking out of my room I step into the hall and then make my way the short distance to Shane’s bedroom. I don’t knock; I doubt he’d hear the sound over the guitar. He’s also been distant. He won’t talk to our parents about how he’s coping. With the exception of yesterday, I’ve been here since Sunday afternoon. I had to reschedule my clients for today and I did the same for tomorrow too, but I went in yesterday,

When I open the door, Shane is sitting on his bed with his back is leaned against the headboard, his legs are crossed, and his guitar is resting in his lap. He’s dressed the same as I am, but where I have shoes on, he doesn’t; just black socks with a black suit, and maybe the exact same grey tie I have on.

I lean into the doorframe. He stops playing the moment he notices my presence.

“Wanna talk about it?” He looks up.

“Nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit.” I holler out. Pointing my finger in his direction, I tell him, “The guitar, the song, they both say differently, man. They tell me, you have something you need to get off your chest.”

“Go away, Shawn. Not today.” He breathes hard.

“Don’t play that card with me.” I shake my head to emphasize my point. “You’re not in here moping over your best friend’s death. You’re in here thinking about her.” He glares at me before cracking.

“So what if I fucking am.” Shane shoves the guitar off his lap. “No one understands what I go through every day. What I’ve gone through and lived with for the last ten years.”

“You’re right, I don’t, but if you’ve been keeping that shit bottled up that long it can’t be good, man.” I remember Whitney a little bit. When she wasn’t with my brother, she and Kylie were always together so I saw her from time to time when I would be over at Mason’s.

“What would you know,” he snorts out. I’m sure most people would take offense to that, but not me. He’s right.

“Not a damn thing. Doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me though. I am your brother.” His eyes soften slightly, but they also take on a deep sadness.

“I feel fucking awful. Today is my best friend’s funeral. I’m not pissed that I’ll never see him again. I’m not reminiscing about all the things we’ve done. I’m too angry that I lost the only girl I’ve ever loved and I can’t get over her. It’s been ten years. A fucking decade and a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about her. She is the last thing I think about before sleep takes over and the first thing that crosses my mind when my eyes open in the morning.”

“Shit, dude.” What do you say to all that? What do I say to all that?

“You know,” he laughs but there isn’t a lick of humor behind it. “I was jealous. Jealous of Trent and Kylie and what they had and seeing them together every day, I envied them. I wanted that back. What they had, was taken from me and it wasn’t fair.” Another sardonic laugh drips from his lips. “That’s fucked up isn’t it?”

“No.” I don’t think it’s messed up at all. “I think if I was in your shoes, I’d be angry with God, too.”

“I’m not angry with God. God wasn’t the one that took her from me. Her asshole parents did.” That last sentence is full of resentment. Hatred even.

“How did they cause her death?” Something isn’t adding up. Was she on some type of life support after the crash and they decided to pull the plug?

“Whitney isn’t dead.” He tells me, and then gives me a look like he thinks I’m stupid or something. If that’s true, then why aren’t they together if he’s so much in love with her? That is if she’s the one.

“What? No, dude, I remember Mom and Dad telling you she didn’t make it after she was taken to the hospital.” I was young, but not young enough to have gotten that screwed up. I was in the room when they told him. I witnessed him break apart. That night was the only time I’ve ever seen Shane cry.

“That was a lie.” Mom and Dad would never do that. “Her parents told Mom that. The next day Dad was rounding on patients in the ICU and he saw her. She didn’t die, but she was still unconscious at the time. Even though it violated HIPPA regulations and could have cost him his career, he told me. I’d never been so relieved and happy in my life. That was short lived when her parents wouldn’t allow me to see her. I tried, dude. I tried to get to her every way I could possibly think to try. Nothing I did worked. They kept her from me. They immediately transferred her to another hospital as soon as she woke up and then they moved.”

That’s fucked up. That’s beyond jacked up. What kinds of people do that to kids?

“I don’t know what to say, Shane. I can’t imagine something like that.”

“Dad spoke to her attending physician. When she woke up, she didn’t remember anything. Her whole life before opening her eyes in a hospital, gone.”

I guess that would be the reason they aren’t together now. If someone doesn’t remember you, if they don’t know you even exist, then how do you move forward with them? You can’t.

“Do you think she ever gained her memory back?”

“I don’t.” The way he says makes me think he knows more than he’s sharing.

“What makes you think that?”

“If Whit remembered us, if the girl I knew remembered herself then she would have found me.” I never knew how heartbroken my brother was. Damn. “A few months back I stumbled across her Facebook page. It didn’t tell me much except for the fact that she is married and has a kid.” Shit. This story keeps getting worse by the second.

“Damn, brother, I’m sorry.”

“The kid looked to be about a year or two. There weren’t any photos of her husband, which is probably a good thing, too. I don’t think I could have handled seeing that much of her new life. Whitney looked amazing, but not like my Whitney. She hated dresses. Refused to ever wear them to church on Sundays. Every photo on her page, she was in a dress. Reminded me of the way Taralynn dresses when she’s in her mother’s presence.” He pauses, taking in air through his mouth. “So, yeah, I don’t think she remembers me or anything else from before the accident.”

“That’s rough, brother. I hate I never knew.” Why didn’t I know? He’s my brother. I should know that shit. This makes me realize just how far apart we are. I don’t like it. We’re family. Hell, my family is close, but where the hell have I been?

“I’m done with this today. My mind should be on Trent.” Shane swings his legs off the bed and stands up. He looks at me and shakes his head. “You still can’t tie a tie for shit, can you?”

“I’m not meant to wear these things.” I reach up and fist the material in my hands.