This time, though, it’s different. Neither of us say anything as I shower and clean the few days of filth off my skin. After I turn the shower off, Haylee hands me a towel, and I dry off before stepping out. I walk out into my room to see Haylee standing in front of my desk looking at all the photos on my bulletin board of me and Emmett. Some include her and Zach as well. I walk past her and grab underwear, a bra, black leggings, and Emmett’s Washington Capitals hoodie. I turn around the same time Haylee does, and she takes in my choice of attire. Her breath catches, and she wipes away the stray tears.
“I’m sorry. I know I seemed big and tough earlier, but I just can’t… I’m sorry.”
Before she can run out of my room, I grab her into a hug. I hug the shit out of my best friend, who is now an only child. I hold her while she cries and somehow find the strength to not crumble myself. I pull back and place my forehead on hers, and we both take deep breaths.
“Come on, you forced me out of bed and to shower, and I’m sure Zach has already eaten all the chicken Parm, so maybe we can get downstairs for the dessert.”
She gives me a weak smile before turning toward the door. I release her hand.
“I’ll be right there. I’m just going to brush my hair real fast.”
She nods and exits the room. I walk back into the bathroom and open the drawer where my brush is and find one of Emmett’s shaving cream bottles. I reach into the drawer and pull it out, lifting the lid so I can smell his scent. I close my eyes and envision him standing in front of me just inches from my face. I inhale, trying to control my breathing to keep from having another meltdown. I quickly put the lid back on and throw it back in the drawer, slamming it shut. Fuck brushing my hair. I grab a hair tie off the counter and pull my brown waves into a messy bun on top of my head.
This is about as good as it’s gonna get for me. They should just be happy that I’m out of bed. I don’t have to eat; I can just shuffle around the food on my plate so it looks like I have, but to avoid anyone else coming into my room today, I will have to humor them and join them.
The first seventeen birthdays in my life got better each year. Now it has become a day I’ll dread for the rest of my life.
I t’s been five weeks since Emmett passed, and Mr. Brian asked for my parents’ help with clearing out Emmett’s room from the apartment. Ms. Natalie didn’t feel up to coming, so Mom went over to their house to hang back with her. I knew this day would eventually come. I guess I was hoping we could have put it off longer or maybe I could have gotten out of it completely.
The spring semester will be starting at UPenn soon. Zach doesn’t plan on getting a new roommate; my parents can afford the rent, so no need for him to fill the empty room. He can set it up as a guest room. I’m surprised he doesn’t move out of there completely. It’s bad enough for me being at home without Em, I can’t imagine how my brother lives at that apartment alone.
My father drives us all in the minivan, and sitting in the back, I am having flashbacks to driving toward the funeral home for Emmett’s funeral. There is small talk throughout the car, otherwise it remains pretty quiet. It’s all there ever seems to be anymore these days—quiet.
We arrive at Zach’s building, and as we start walking to the main door, I look over and see my brother’s Jeep and next to it an empty space where Emmett used to park his. I stop and stare at the empty space. Closing my eyes, I remember our first time visiting this place last summer. Emmett carried me over the threshold as if we were a married couple when he brought me here to see it.
I hear his voice in my head as if he were beside me. “Welcome home, baby! Next year, when you join us here at school, this is your home. I already talked to Zach about it, but you’ll move in for real and we can start our next chapter together.”
I am snapped out of my memory to see Haylee standing next to me, holding my hand. She gives me a brief smile, and although I return it, I turn my attention back to the empty parking space before following her lead back toward our family.
Walking into the apartment, we are greeted with an eerie silence. I notice the door to Emmett’s room is closed. I guess Zach keeps it closed since there isn’t a reason to go in there. Are we really about to do this? This can’t be happening. Maybe he is still just on vacation, at lacrosse camp like he had gone to all those years. My brain still refuses to accept he’s gone. No, it’s not just my brain; it’s my heart that refuses to believe it too.
Zach comes out of the kitchen area with Sharpies, scissors, and packing tape. My dad and Mr. Brian had carried boxes up for us to pack the stuff up. Mr. Brian said that most would be packed up and put into Emmett’s room at their house and could be dealt with when ready, some taken to the church donation bin, and we could take whatever we wanted to take. I plan to take as much as possible. These are all I have left of him. Someone else doesn’t need the memories; they wouldn’t understand the importance of the suit he wore at special events, his favorite tie to wear on our fancy dates, his winter coat that he would wear when we would travel to Liberty Ski Resort for fun weekend getaways, the blankets that we would use to snuggle under after using our bodies to show how much we loved each other. Instead of assisting in packing everything, I want to get what I want and get out of there. I already feel like the apartment is shrinking in size.
We are all standing around when Mr. Brian announces, “Come on, guys, let’s get this over with before I don’t have the strength to anymore and change my mind.”
We nod somberly, yet no one makes a move from where we are sitting and standing in the room. My dad chimes in
, breaking the silence and placing his hand on Mr. Brian’s shoulder. “Bri, you know we don’t need to do this now. We don’t need to clear out the room just yet. We can take our time, do this when you’re ready.”
Holding up his hand, Mr. Brian cuts my dad off. “I know there’s no timetable for this, Adam, but we need to do this. All of the stuff that you all don’t want to take—” He looks at Zach, Haylee, and me. “—we’re just boxing up and taking back home to later sort through thoroughly.”
We all again nod in silence, taking in what is about to happen, but yet again, no one makes a move. We are all consumed in the silence and somberness that encloses the small apartment where Emmett lived his last days.
It’s Mr. Brian who eventually makes the first move toward the bedroom door that is still closed and stands there with his hand hovering over the handle. It’s visibly shaking. Movement to my right brings my attention back this way to see Haylee wiping her eyes with her sleeve but doing it in a way she hopes no one will see. I pull my knees to my chest and take a deep breath. I need to be able to do this. Get this over with so that I can leave. It’s too painful here.
Mr. Brian lets out a loud exhale, loud enough for us to hear from the other side of the room, before he turns the knob and walks inside. My dad follows, then Haylee rises from the couch. Zach walks toward me and takes a seat on the table in front of me, grabbing my hands in his.
“You okay?”
I don’t say anything, only nod, because my brother would know if I was lying. Nothing about this is okay. Five weeks and this is still not okay. He squeezes my hand, stands, and extends his hand to me. I stare at it before looking back at the door and trying to decide how easily I could jump over the couch and run out the door and away from here. In my mind, I keep running. In reality, though, I place my hand in my brother’s and allow him to pull me to my feet.
Together, hand in hand, Zach and I walk toward Emmett’s room, where for three months, we would discuss our hopes, dreams, and future, love each other, laugh with each other, and only occasionally yell at each other, followed by making up with each other. I could do this. I had to do this. My grip on my brother’s hand tightens as we walk through the doorway and watch everyone else begin to fold and tape up boxes, pull things from drawers and the closet, and lay things on the bed.
Haylee goes to open the top drawer on the nightstand, and before I can tell her not to, she slams it shut and lets out a loud giggle. Her laughter breaks through the uncomfortable silence but for the tape gun and cardboard. She looks over at me as does everyone else. Realizing what was in that drawer, I blush. It was no secret that we were together in that way, but it’s another to see your brother’s collection of lubes and lotions.
“How about I take care of that drawer,” I say, then bite my lip and walk in that direction.
She scrunches her nose up and nods. “Probably a good idea, D.”