Emilia

Snapping awake, I sit up. With a hand over my pounding heart, I take in the darkness and listen closely. Late-night noises aren’t an unusual occurrence as of late, given that our house turned into a makeshift operations center since the night of the fire. People come and go at all hours of the day or night, and there’s no avoiding the animated yet hushed conversations happening all around. Tonight, however, all is quiet. Eerily so, which makes me wonder what roused me from sleep. Now that the funeral is hours behind us and everyone is gone there’s nothing left but this empty void.

Maybe it was a dream. Or given the circumstances, most likely a nightmare. Nothing could have prepared us for the intense grief and uncertainty that has descended upon our lives like a noxious fog of doom. It’s everywhere. Smoky tendrils that somehow dampen and distort the safe world we once knew, turning it into something dark and unrecognizable. Nothing feels familiar. Not the house where I grew up, the friends I’ve known all my life. Even my parents and the community we rely on, everyone’s different. Some are somber, while many others have grown distant, almost despondent. 

Since the death of Lucas and Jen’s parents, no one knows how to be anymore. How to act. What to do. How to cope. It’s like everyone is stuck in the muck with no way to pull themselves out. It’s a terrifying time, for if the adults don’t know how to go on and return to their everyday lives, then what hope do we kids have? Lucas and Jen? Me and the rest of our friends? Will there ever come a time when we’ll feel safe and secure in our lives again?

Wrapping my arms around myself, I look over at the clock on the nightstand. The blue numbers are blurred and hard to read behind the tears welling in my eyes, so it takes a second to see that it’s just after midnight. The chances of getting back to sleep are slim, so with a sigh, I stand from the bed hoping a cup of hot tea will help.

I hate this. 

The constant trail of tears.

The deep sense of helplessness that plagues me as I attempt to help Lucas and Jen through this impossible situation.

Most of all, I hate how heavy everything feels. Gone is the light that shone brightly in Jen’s mischievous smile. Gone is the comforting presence that accompanied Lucas whenever he entered a room. The playful banter and back and forth that brought us solace during times of stress no longer exists. Instead, there sits this awkwardness that has us tiptoeing around one another, unsure of what to do or say to not add more pain to an already unbearable situation.

And then there’s this weird distance between Lucas and me. So much has changed since the night he took me in his arms, declared his love, and kissed me senseless. That brief but oh-so-perfect moment came to a crashing halt the instant Will’s dad called with the news. Since losing his parents, not only has Lucas put me back in the friend zone, but he’s done it with such force that calling what we now have a friendship feels like a huge exaggeration.

For reasons I don’t understand, it’s like he can’t stand the sight of me. He leaves the room when I come in and does everything he can to ensure we’re never alone. I’ve tried on dozens of occasions to get him to talk to me, but he won’t. He’s pushing me away again, and this time I don’t have a right to demand that he stop. He’s dealing with a major tragedy and it would be selfish of me to put my feelings above his. As someone who loves him unconditionally, I have to find it in myself to be okay with granting him the space he needs.

I  only wish it didn’t hurt so darn much.

For the first time in days, the house is completely dark. Not wanting to wake anyone, I use the hints of moonlight to navigate my way down the stairs to the first floor. As an only child, I’m used to the silent noises of my house, which is why it takes no effort at all to notice that I’m not alone down here. Walking through the darkened hallway, past the dining room and kitchen, I turn toward our family room.

Even blanketed in darkness, I see him sitting alone. His shoulders slumped in grief, elbows on his knees as he sobs into his hands. Gone is the confident young man I love, replaced instead by this broken boy I don’t recognize. Lucas is the strongest person I’ve ever known. The one person in my life who, no matter the challenge, stands with resolve and determination to get himself and those he loves through to the other side. It’s why seeing him so crushed and defeated is as shocking as it is heartbreaking.

Unable to stop myself, I hurry to him. Dropping to my knees, I pull his hands from his face and bring him into my arms. That he allows it and so easily melts into me, says everything I need to know. He’s done. The strong facade he put on the past week has given way, leaving behind nothing but inescapable grief. With his face buried in the crook of my neck, he sobs, and the way he clings to me like I’m the only thing keeping him afloat brings my tears to the surface. Crying together, we hold on to one another, each of us coming to terms with a future we’d never imagined. The weight of it is so suffocating that it’s difficult to see how we’ll ever make it through.

Closing my eyes, I issue yet another silent prayer, begging that this all be a dream. That life as we know it and the security we’ve taken for granted is still our reality. But there is no escaping the shuddering agony coursing through the boy in my arms as he purges the pain. This is real. His parents are gone and with them, the innocence of our youth. Life will never be the same and while there is nothing I can do to fix it I can be there for him. Like he’s done for me a thousand times before, I will see him through the darkness.

When our tears finally slow, he pulls back, taking my hands he guides me to sit on the couch next to him. By the way he’s avoiding my eyes, I can tell he’s embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable state. Unwilling to let him rebuild the walls that for a week have kept me out, I thrust forward.   

“Don’t Lucas. Don’t push me away. Not now when we need each other.”

 With a heavy sigh, he nods and intertwines his fingers around mine. His head falls back to the couch in a move that speaks to how exhausted he is. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.” Not having any answers, I squeeze his hand a little tighter. “I still can’t make sense of what’s happened, let alone figure out what comes next.” Falling quiet, we sit there, absorbing his words.

 “I don’t think there’s a simple answer for something like this, Luc. Like my dad always says, the best we can do is take it one day at a time. Putting one foot in front of the other until we figure it out.”

“Hmm,” he closes his eyes, and when he goes quiet for several minutes, I begin to wonder if he’s fallen asleep. “You know what the last piece of advice my dad gave me?” he tilts his head down and gives me a rueful smile. “He told me to not be afraid to get a little dirty now and again because those are the moments that make life worth living.”

We both erupt in a fit of laughter that’s as unexpected as it is healing.

“What?” I giggle. “What in the world brought that on?”

Sobering, his smile falls. His eyes drop to my lips briefly before returning to meet my gaze. “You. We were talking about you.”

“Me?” I whisper, my breath catching in anticipation. The look in his eyes is reminiscent of how he looked at me right before he kissed me that first time.

“Yeah,” he breathes out the word, a look of reverence passing over his features. To my disappointment, he clears his throat and looks away, breaking the connection and leaving me to wonder if I’d imagined it. Leaning back against the couch, he continues, “Dad knew how I felt about you. He was trying to convince me it was okay to explore things between us. It’s the last meaningful conversation we had and the irony of how things turned out makes that memory all the more difficult.”

 “Why?”

“Before that night, my biggest fear was that I’d screw things up and hurt you. That if I took our relationship further, I’d eventually lose you and cause a rift between you and Jenny, or even our parents. That’s why I thought it would be best if we remained friends. Especially with me heading off to college next year. Leaving you is inevitable, and I couldn’t imagine how much harder that would be if I allowed us to cross the line to something more. But Dad pushed me that day. He convinced me that playing it safe wasn’t living. He hadn’t a clue, just how wrong he was.”

“Why do you say that? Sounds to me like he was right. What’s the point of playing it safe, if it means you don’t get to experience all that life offers?”

“Because playing it safe does just that. It keeps everyone safe. If I hadn’t gone to the bonfire that night, they would still be alive. Jenny and I would still have our parents. We’d still have a life. A future. Instead, because of the selfish decisions I made on a whim, we have nothing but pain, regret, and a lifetime of having to endure it alone. And the worst part is that while I deserve it, Jenny doesn’t. In pursuing something I knew I shouldn’t, I ruined her life. I’m her brother, for god’s sake. My job is to protect her. To make sure she’s safe and happy. How the hell am I supposed to live with myself after everything I’ve taken from her?”

At this, my heart sinks. “So, you regret what happened between us that night?” His head drops, and it takes everything I have to fight back the ball of despair choking up my throat. Oh God, does he blame me? Does he blame what exists between us? That possibility is far worse than anything I could have imagined, for it’s something we may never overcome.

“My parents went to bed early that night. I’d told them I’d be home. That I wouldn’t be attending the bonfire after all. I was so sure keeping my distance was the best thing for everyone, but as I sat in my room with the walls closing in, I couldn’t do it. The thought of you with Parker, of him being the one to hold you that night. To kiss you… I just couldn’t. Without thinking, I grabbed my keys, wrote my parents a quick note, and then rushed out the door. I never imagined that would be my last time walking out of our house. The last time I’d share a roof with my parents. The last time I’d feel completely at ease and safe in my own existence.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Lucas. The fire marshal said…”

“For god’s sake,” he springs to his feet. Running a hand over his face in frustration, he adds, “I know what the fire marshal said. I know I couldn’t have stopped the fire, but if I’d been there, the three of us would have made it out.”

“You don’t know that, Lucas. You can’t know what would have happened.”

“Yes, I do,” he raises his voice to a loud whisper. With eyes like icy daggers, he stares me down. “I do know because that same fire marshal told your dad that my mom made it out, that my parents had a chance to escape, but that something drew them back into the house. They thought I was home. They went back in to save me and I wasn’t even there. They suffocated and burned in a scorching inferno trying to save a son who, by all accounts, is the only person who deserved to die that night.” His words are spoken with such certainty and contempt that I’m left gasping for breath. 

 “I killed them. Me going after you that night is the reason my parents are dead!”