Four
Liz
Milo was the first stop on our drive to school, blasting "Fat Lip" by Sum 41. He was busy jamming along with me, seated in the back and excited for school. It was a proud mama moment, knowing he knew the song well enough to belt out every lyric. Maybe it wasn't the best song for him to be singing, but who cares? He should know to be himself through and through, no matter what others say. Fuck what everyone else does.
"I'll pick you up at the front of the school. Don't go anywhere, alright Milo?" I turned to look at him over my shoulder as he opened his door.
"You got it, dude." He slipped out before I could correct him.
Lily was quiet as her favorite song graced our ears next. Yet she wasn't singing. She wasn't even tapping her feet. The only movement I got from her was a very light tap from her index finger. I knew she was nervous, so I was hoping this song would calm her down, but maybe I was wrong.
"Hold, please." I smiled at her as I searched my phone, parking in the drive-through lane. There was one song I knew would get her to start singing, one she would not be able to resist. Na Na Na by My Chemical Romance began as Lily rolled her eyes, but I saw the way the corner of her lips tugged ever so slightly.
Within seconds, we were both singing at the top of our lungs, knowing every lyric, gaining odd stares as we drove past the elementary school asking for drugs. Milo shot up devil horns in the air before turning and entering the school.
My little rebel.
I pulled into the all-too-familiar parking lot of Willowbrook High. Go Wolves, insert eye roll. Not much had changed, aside from some light remodeling and a new football field. Meanwhile, the music building still appeared to be falling apart.
"You ready?" I asked her, turning down the radio so I could have a serious talk with her. She was going to see her dad a lot in these halls, adorned in pictures and trophy cases.
"To start a new high school my junior year? Not particularly."
Attitude is still there. So that's a plus, right? Means she's being a normal teen.
"Fair." I slightly nodded my head, pushing my lower lip out a bit in contemplation. "Listen, Lil. Your dad was a big shot when he was here. There are more than likely some teachers who taught both him and I that still work here. You're going to see his pictures in trophy cases and maybe in the halls. Not only that, but I promise you, you're going to hear stories about the two of us. If you feel like it's ever too much, go to the counselor's office and have them call me. I'll pick you up." Her big eyes were staring out of the window, taking in the high school she'd be graduating from with disdain. "You got that, Lil?"
"Yeah. Heard it loud and clear. Bye, Mom."
She slid out of the car in her light pink blouse and white jeans, slugging her black backpack over her shoulder and slamming my door shut. The confidence in her stride surprised even me as she held her head high, marching her way inside.
Good luck to anyone who tries to mess with her.
Lil walked in without even looking back. Something told me I'd be called back to the principal's office soon, only for once it wouldn't be because of something I did.
I laughed at the thought as I made my way down Burrow Road toward work. For once, I wasn't dreading my job, but only because I knew Brian would be there. He helped me through my stupid panic attack, taking me home and being forced to have dinner with us by Elle.
I passed Frank's station as I made my way to my locker, seeing the big guy eye me in wonder. I hurriedly changed into the blue jumpsuit that now had my name stitched in yellow thread. Brian knew I had to drop the kids off at school, so he scheduled me in at nine every day even though the others came in at eight. I felt guilty, which was why I rushed over here and would continue to do so every day.
Brian had made a makeshift changing room for me, even though I told him he didn't have to worry about it. He was still the kind-natured boy I grew up with. I stepped out, quietly making my way to my work station, already seeing a car for me to fix.
My work kept me busy for most of the morning, having an odd amount of cars to fix. It dawned on me that more than likely there were more today because we didn't finish yesterday's, since I left early and took Brian with me. The thought had me working twice as hard and thrice as fast. I refused to cause Brian any more trouble than I already had.
"Shit," I muttered as I tried for the fourth time to unscrew a bolt unsuccessfully. What'd they do? Weld the damn thing? I slammed the wrench down on the edge of the car, realizing I was going to have to ask for help.
‘When you need help, come to me.' Brian's words rang in my head, but I had already bothered him enough yesterday. There was no telling how much work he had ignored because of me. I wouldn't cause him any more trouble, but the thought of going to Mason seemed a fate worse than death.
I looked around the shop, finding Zayden in the corner, wiping his hands off. Perfect. Maybe he would be more inclined to help me. As I strode over to him — probably looking more determined than I should have — I was grabbed by the arm and pulled into Brian's office. His eyes bore into mine, flickering with mischief.
"I said come to me for help." His voice was low as he spoke, sending a wave of electricity down my body.
"Who said I needed help?"
"I was watching you, Lizzie. Did you know you get this line on your forehead when you get mad? That one." His finger landed an inch below my hairline, poking at the crease on my forehead. "Right there."
I swatted his hand away, seeing him let out a singular laugh before eyeing me seriously again. "I didn't want to bother you."
"You're never a bother. So, are you going to ask me to come help, or do you want to keep talking in my office all day? Either way, I'm fine." He gave me a smirk, one that told me he found this all too entertaining.
"Help," I whispered the word, hating the taste of my defeat.
Damn welded bolt.
"There. Was that so hard?" He cocked a smile, passing me by as he led the way. I rolled my eyes as I followed him, but there was a small smile playing at the corner of my lips.
Brian reached for the wrench and, with some effort on his part — because again, the damn demon bolt was practically welded on there — he got it off. Immediately, he turned to me with a grin, giving me a quick raise of his brows.
Show off.
"You're welcome," he teased, handing me the wrench and the bolt. He patted my head as if I were a little puppy as he walked past me. I found he worked in his office for most of the morning, but in the afternoon he was out here with the rest of us, getting his hands dirty.
I stayed silent, shaking my head and getting right back to work until lunchtime hit. At first I thought about skipping it and just working through it so that I wouldn't leave Brian hanging when I left to get the kids from school. However, Brian wouldn't allow it, standing in front of the vehicle I was working on with his arms crossed.
"We're eating, Lizzie. Let's go."
"But—"
"Food," he interrupted. "You know? The thing that makes you moan the most." He chuckled at my expense, ushering me off the floor and into my makeshift locker room to change.
"I would have been just fine with the taco truck around the corner," I yelled through the door as I changed back into my Sleep Token shirt and dark blue jeans.
"I know you would have, but this will be better, you'll see."
"It better be." I tapped his arm with my elbow as I came out of the door, egging him on.
He gave me a bright smile as he gestured with his head for me to follow. When we rounded the corner, we came upon two dark black Harleys, to which I whistled, impressed.
"Nice, aren't they?"
"Very." My hands itched to run over the seat of one, but I knew how possessive bikers could be of their motorcycles, so I kept them tight to my sides.
"You get to take the one on the right, and I'm taking the one on the left. We're going to Benson's. You remember where that's at, right?" he asked me as he tossed me a set of keys, which I didn't catch, still trying to process the fact I could ride the bike.
"Wait, you're serious? Whose are these?"
"Sure am. The one you're driving is mine, and this one I'm borrowing from Zayden. Now, hop on, or you're going to lose our race." His leg stretched over the motorcycle as he mounted it, causing a pang of guilt to course through me as I thought of how hot Brian looked on that bike with his leather jacket.
Fuck. Me.
Lyle was suddenly on my mind, sitting on the bike I was meant to ride, patting its seat the way he did when we were on our honeymoon. He didn't rent a car then. He rented a motorcycle, even though he didn't know how to ride it. It didn't matter, because he knew I did, and he knew I would love it.
"Come on, sweets. We gotta win the race." Lyle's smile was just as I remembered — bright, handsome, heart swooning.
I grabbed the keys off the ground and jumped onto the bike, dissipating Lyle's illusion as I went through him. I was dying inside, but excitement took over as the Harley roared to life beneath me. Brian waited for me before yelling, "go!" and taking off down the road. I scrambled to catch up, but when I did, there was no way I was losing.
I was the first to Benson's by a mere ten seconds, laughing as I got off the beauty of a Harley. Brian had never been a sore loser, so it didn't surprise me to see him smiling widely at me as he pulled in beside me. He turned his engine off, shaking his hair loose from the helmet as he got off.
"Figured a good grilled cheese would make you happy." He motioned with his head towards the small twenty-four-hour diner we loved so much our summer between sophomore and junior year.
"You figured right." I nodded in appreciation as I led the way inside.
The smell of fried meat intermingled with the strong aroma of freshly ground coffee, giving me flashbacks I didn't ask for. Funny how a simple smell can bring back things you've long since locked away. Like the time Brian was sick, and I was craving a grilled cheese enough to come here by myself at ten at night. It was the first night Lyle and I spoke about more than just math.
21 years ago
My stomach was eating me alive as I waited for Greg to bring me my order, needing to fill my mouth with cheesy goodness before I withered away into nothingness. It wasn't like me to brave the world without Brian by my side, but that's how desperately I wanted — no, needed — a grilled cheese sandwich.
I was busy picking at a napkin, tearing it into strips to keep myself entertained when the popular kids walked in. It really was like the high school movies. All the jocks piled in with the cheerleaders around them, way too energized for this time of night. In the lead was Danielle in all her cheer captain glory, followed by co-captain Vicky.
My heart stilled as our star quarterback Lyle Foster walked in, with his shining smile and bright green eyes. Due to a string of bad luck, he ended up being my tutor. Although my luck wasn't as bad as Brian's, who ended up with Danielle. Oh, if looks could kill, I would have been dead on the spot a couple of weeks ago.
Lyle's forest greens landed on me, and for just a second I thought his smile widened. As if I was living in some sort of nightmare, he started making his way towards me. My eyes bulged in shock as he waved his friends off when they asked where he was headed. They took a seat at the rounded booth in the back corner while he, well, he took a seat in front of me.
I tried to appear disinterested as I continued tearing at my napkin, not meeting his gaze. The gaze I could feel searing into me. My heart was pounding so hard, I was surprised he couldn't hear it, couldn't call out my facade.
"You're going to ruin your reputation sitting with me, Mr. All Star."
"Are you kidding? Sitting with you will only make it better." He rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward as his long legs stretched out, tapping my own by mistake. At least I thought it was by mistake. "So, what are we having?"
"I'm having grilled cheese. I haven't the faintest idea what you're having." I went to grab another napkin, but he stopped me mid-way, taking my hand in his.
At the rate my heart was beating, I could safely say I had a strong one, since it didn't give out on me right then and there. I quickly retracted my hand from his, scowling at him as I tried to decipher what he was up to. Trusting the popular kids when you were a part of the freaks was suicide. He let my hand go, only giving me that all-too-shiny smile.
"What do you think you're doing?" I raised a brow at him as I cautiously watched his face, looking for any hint of deceit.
He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back against the dark green plush seat of the booth. "Trying to sit with better company."
"I'm better company? That's a laugh." I shook my head, trying not to fall for it.
"You're real, Liza." He used the nickname I hated the most, but I never told him that.
"I'm just me. The me I know to be. The me I'll still be in ten years time. Are you real? Or are you just pretending to be the person everyone wants you to be?" I asked as I grabbed the pieces of the napkin I had torn and began to tie them together.
"Who do you want me to be?"
"Doesn't matter what I want." I shrugged. Part of me was ready to flee, but the part of me that wanted melted cheese between buttered bread refused to allow me to go.
"That's why I am here. You don't want anything from me, Liza."
It was at that moment that I came to the conclusion that maybe Lyle didn't live as good of a life as I thought…as we all thought. Maybe being the golden boy wasn't so golden.
Present
"You okay?" Brian asked me as I paused in front of that very booth.
"Yup. Just seeing ghosts." I laughed it off, shaking the memory as I made my way to the back corner. If only I could get away from my own brain, maybe I wouldn't be so haunted.
"You're my ghost, Lizzie." His confession paused me mid-sit across from him. His gray eyes held my gaze with an admiration I couldn't take right now.
"Hard to be a ghost when I am literally right in front of you." I plopped on my bottom, my legs burning from my mid squat for a few seconds. I'm out of shape.
"Now. But when I came back here after my military service was over, you were everywhere, yet nowhere. We have memories all over this town, Lizzie. Every corner held your face, every booth, every spot. I should have reached out sooner. Please forgive me."
"Brian, stop. It's fine."
The last thing I needed was pity from him, not when all I wanted was laughs and good times. I needed him to keep me distracted, to keep me moving. This depression was taking a hold of me and I was afraid that when it did, it would never let me go.
"It isn't, Lizzie, but I plan to make up for it."
"If it involves more motorcycle rides and fun times, then I am down."
It more than likely wasn't what he wanted to hear, but he showed me those pearly whites all the same.
Lunch was peaceful, and the rest of the shift was fast. I got the kids from school, asking how their days went, but as usual they just said "fine" and left it at that. Even with my probing questions, I got nothing more. Seeing as no one got in trouble and no one was crying, I called it a win.
When we got back home, the kids raced to their rooms while I found Elle. I helped her finish some farm chores and then we both hung out in the kitchen. Well, I hung out while she cooked. I enjoyed having dinner at the table as a family with my sister again. At least meals with her were more pleasant than the ones we shared with Mom and Dad. After dinner, Elle and I tucked the kids in and headed outside to her favorite spot.
Song Suggestion: "One More Time" by Blink-182
"You remember when mom would yell that you were being taken over by the devil?" Elle laughed with me as she sipped her wine and I drank my beer on the porch swing. The night air was a cool seventy degrees according to the old mercury thermometer that still hung to the right of the front door.
Doing my best impersonation of mom, I waved my finger. "That's the devil's music, Elizabeth! I will not have that under my roof!"
We both laughed again, only to fall silent as we reminisced. It wasn't a bad childhood, but it certainly wasn't perfect. Our parents might as well be dead with the way they've disappeared from our lives. They retired, moving to Florida on a houseboat they sailed around at times. After they were certain Elle could handle the farm, they packed up and left. Neither of them had reached out since Lyle's death. I wasn't sure if they even knew that Milo existed.
"I thought it was clever of you to sit on the roof with your radio and blast it loud and proud." Elle patted my knee as she looked out at the star-filled sky, a forlorn expression across her face. "I always admired that about you, Liz. You could stand up for yourself, no matter who it was. You were who you were, and damn anyone who disagreed."
My emotions were still running wild, as her confession had my damn eyes watering again. How do I still have tears to shed? I should be as dry as the Sahara Desert.
"You beech! I said I didn't want to cry." I gave her a light chuckle as I wiped at my eyes, never wanting to call her the actual word. Elle leaned her small head on my shoulder, leaving us in silence.
She knows. Dammit, she knows me too well.
"It's okay, Liz. Let it out. The kids are sleeping. It's just us."
Her words of permission relinquished the waterworks I held back. The ugly cry that left me broke me. Every sob opened the crater in my chest further, pulling me deeper inside it.
"I miss him so much, Elle. So fucking much! I don't know what the hell I'm doing. It should have been me. Not him. The kids would have been better off." I was wiping at my eyes with my wrist, trying without success to dry the tears.
The sudden punch to my bicep startled me as I looked into her blue eyes, now filled with their own tears. "Never," her lower lip quivered, "never say that again, Liz. It's not true."
She held me to her chest, allowing us to cry into each other. Elle was as close to my other half as Lyle, but it wasn't the same. Of course it wasn't the same.
Dear God, please. I just want him back.
"I'm here, sweets. You can't get rid of me." His voice was in my ear, but I knew…I knew it wasn't really him. It was only my mind again, playing cruel tricks on me.
"You're sleeping with me tonight. Tomorrow, we will make an appointment with your therapist," Elle announced, having us stand and taking me to her room. What are older sisters for if not to care for you in a way your mother never could?
Goodnight, Lyle.