“Take care of him, Zane,” Lyric warns him, sarcasm dripping in her voice because we all know it’s going to be the other way around. Zane has declared this week the college experience he’ll never have. My best friend enlisted in the Army this past fall, after being undecided for years about what he wanted to do.
Zane scoffs, his eyes sliding between Lyric and me. “Are you guys going to get married?”
Lyric lobs her half-eaten beef stick at him while I laugh. “Bye, Zane,” she calls, when I tug her behind me and over to where my truck is sitting. As always, I help her in before rounding to my side. Once the key is in and we’re heading back toward our neighborhood, she finally talks to me.
“Are you nervous to go?” Her voice is timid and not at all like the confident girl I know.
I glance at her. “Nervous to visit or to go there this fall?”
“To visit.” She chooses her answer quickly, which instantly makes me relax. I know I sprung my idea on her. Sometimes when we talk about leaving this fall, I see the hesitancy flash in her eyes. I get being nervous to try new things. I know the campus is huge and that I will be busy the majority of the time with football, so Lyric taking such a leap of faith in our relationship means more to me than anything. What bothers me is that if she does have any conflicted feelings, she never talks about them. I’m hoping that means she will eventually get over them once we get there.
“No.” I shake my head, letting an easy smile fall on my lips. “It’s just a meet and greet. I’ll also play with the guys a little and get a feel for the school. As for this fall, I have absolutely no concerns at all. I can see everything perfectly. You and I grabbing your favorite iced coffee before class. Sneaking into your dorm, well not sneaking really, because, let’s face it, I’ll have your dorm advisor sorted in no time.”
She laughs. “Yeah, because you got that charming personality.”
“It always works, baby.” I wink at her, which makes her laugh again. After that, our conversation becomes easier as I tell her about all the plans Zane has for us in between the team activities and scrimmages I’ll be attending. We laugh the whole way home.
When I pull up in her driveway, the house is quiet and dark, except for the outside lights that are still on.
“Promise you’ll call me at least twice,” Lyric asks, her body angling to face mine.
I slide my fingers through hers and bring her wrist to my lips. My eyes catch the instant goosebumps that rise on her flesh, and I smirk. “I promise.”
“And don’t forget to ask about the updated meal plan brochure. I can’t believe it’s not on their website yet. I need to plan.” She reminds me and my smile grows. Hearing those words is a huge relief.
“I won’t forget.” I shake my head. Out of the two of us, Lyric tends to be the forgetful one. Unless it was something I happened to say four years ago that made her upset. Funny how that always happens, but the girl can’t remember the days she works in a week without writing them down.
“Thank you.” She smiles and leans over to place her lips on mine. My chest instantly goes still from her nearness. Despite being around a bonfire for a few hours, I can still smell the sweetness from the body wash she uses.
My hand instantly shoots out to cup the back of her head and hold her lips to mine. No matter how many times we’ve kissed over the past couple of years, it never gets old. If anything, it only gets better. She kisses me like she wants to consume me, like I’m her world, and I keep kissing her back harder. I feel desperate and the feeling knocks me back on my feet. We’ve said goodbye to each other before for things like this, yet something feelsdifferent. I can’t quite place it. Instead, I stuff the feeling in the back of my mind and cradle her face in my hands. Her blue eyes are shining and look somewhat tired. Her cheeks are flushed and her lips swollen. She leans in and gently places one last kiss on my lips before pulling back.
“I love you,” she tells me once more for good measure. My eyes track over her face. I can see her truth, and my body feels her sincerity.
“I love you more,” I answer, like always. She smiles and the small twinge of fear I felt earlier completely dies away.
Lyric opens her door and hops down. I wait until she steps inside her front door before backing out of her driveway and driving the ten feet to my own. Unlike Lyric’s home, my house is completely dark. A ghost house amongst the living and breathing families in our neighborhood. My jaw clenches. No matter how old I get, I wonder if I’ll ever let go of the resentment I feel toward them. The day I lost Alex, I also lost both my parents. Neither of them was strong enough to want to continue on for me.
Climbing out of my truck, I run up the stairs and step into the house. In the dark, I move toward the kitchen light above the sink and flip it on. If I’m home first, then that means Wes will need a guiding light to find his way around. If he even comes home. My eyes find the shrine, as I like to call it, hanging over the mantel in the living room across from me. All the picture frames are dusty, the box containing Alex’s folded flag is the only object that looks as if it gets any care. My chest pinches whenever I see it. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about my brother or wish that he was here. If he had lived, would Mom have decided life was good enough to keep living?
“You honestly think throwing around a football means anything?” my dad hollers, his voice slurred. Judging from the numerous empty beer bottles set out on the sideboard, he’shad more than a few. My head lowers, listening to his words. “That...” He points to my brother’s pictures. “That is doing something. That is something that makes people take notice. Your brother is a hero!”
I nod, because yeah, Alex was a hero. My hero.
“Don’t you nod at me like that,” my dad says. Only this time, his voice cracks. My eyes slam shut. “If you had tried even half as hard as he did, maybe she’d still be here.”
He says it all the time, and by now, I’d think I’d be used to it. But every time his words still cut like a rusty knife, digging into my skin. He blames me for her dying.
“I am trying, Dad,” I tell him, hating how desperate my voice sounds. “I’m going pro someday. Colleges are lining up to give me a shot. I know I can do it.”
“It’s a stupid fucking game, Alex,” he yells.
“I’m Colt!” I yell back, my eyes filled with tears and rage. Why can’t he see me? How did I become invisible just because I’m living?
“Don’t talk back to me, boy!” he rages, suddenly climbing to his feet. I watch as his body sways forward slightly, looking for balance.
I scoff. “I’m not a boy, Dad. I’ve been more of the man around this place than you and you know it.”
“It should have been you. Throwing around a ball and you think you’re something special. They took the wrong kid!” Spit flies from his mouth. I watch while his skin becomes purple from all the dark rage he carries under it.
