Chapter Twelve

Thankfully, I got back to the apartment before any blood was shed. "Amy," I whisper, as I wrap my arms around her. Tears roll down my cheeks. "Amy..."

Amy remains still, her eyes red with sadness.

I wipe my face and take hers in my hands. "What happened?"

Amy wipes her face. She shakes her head.

"I..." she hesitates. "I..."

She sighs.

* * *

Kim and I have been on our laptops for a while. I'm about to ask her if she wants to do something, when my phone buzzes. I get it from my pocket and read the text. It's from mom. I resist the impulse to clap my hand over my mouth and start crying.

Mom: Greyson died today, sweetheart.

I stand up and start typing back, trying to look as casual as possible.

Me: What?

Mom: I'm sorry. This is hard to do over a text.

Me: You're... You're not joking?

Mom: No... I'm so sorry sweetheart.

Me: How...?

Mom: You know he's been sick for the past few years, and... Well, his heart couldn't go on. He died in his sleep this morning.

Me: There's... There's nothing you could do?

Mom: ...

Mom: Can you come home for the day?

Me: ... Home is all the way in San Diego. That's nearly eight hours away, plus stopping for gas and stuff.

Mom: Okay...

Me: No. I'll come.

Mom: You don't have to if you don't want to.

Me: No. I do. Just let me... Tell my roommate I'm leaving.

Mom: 👍

I put my phone down and stretch, trying to look casual.

"Well, I gotta go," I say.

"Where?" Kim asks.

"Uh, my mom. She just... Wants me to help set up for a wedding reception or something." I shrug. "I'll be out of town all day, probably, though. It's all the way in San Diego. I'll probably see you sometime tomorrow."

"Oh, okay," Kim says. She gets up as I grab my laptop and its charger. She walks me to the door. I wave as she closes the door.

I go down to the parking lot and unlock my car. I get out my phone.

Me: I'm on my way.

Mom: Okay, drive safe, please

Me: I will.

Mom: I love you, Amy

Me: Love you too

I put my phone in my pocket and start driving. I stop at and get a caffè mocha.

"Wait," the barista says. "You're... Amy! I've served you before!"

I nod.

"Wait," she says, putting my order in the cash register. "Where's blue hair?"

I smile. "At home."

She nods. "Is she coming anytime soon?"

I'm confused. "No...?"

"Huh," the barista says.

"What?"

She shrugs. "I don't know, you guys just seem to come here together."

"Oh," I say. "Well, I'm on my way home, to San Diego right now."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," I say. My smile fades when I remember why. "I'm... My brother died in his sleep this morning, so..."

"Oh," the barista says. She clears her throat. "I'll get that mocha for you."

I shove my hands in my pockets and look down. After a minute, the barista comes back with my cup.

"Well," she says. "Safe driving."

I nod and walk out to my car. I put my coffee in the cupholder and start the car.

* * *

I pull into the driveway of my childhood home. It's in a cul de sac in San Diego near a few schools, the schools I went to.

I unbuckle and get my hand full of bags I got on the way here. I put all my bags on the ground and jam my keys into the keyhole on the side of the car. I pick up my bags again and go to the door. I put down one of my bags (again) and ring the doorbell. By the time I've picked it up again, my mother answers the door.

"Amy!" she says. Her eyes are red and her cheeks are flushed. Before I can get inside, I drop all my bags on the porch at my feet and throw myself onto her. I cry loudly, wrapping my arms around her neck.

She rubs my back and I remember all the painful times in my life: when dad died, when I was dumped for the first time, when my best friend died in seventh grade, when I was failing school, and now. Every time that happened, she was there. Ever since I moved out, there have been times when she hasn't been there. When I slipped on the way to my apartment room and sprained my ankle; loads of people were there, yet, no one bent down and asked if I was okay. When I found out Kim had a cutting problem, and cried in my room that night. When I was cornered in the city one time because of my hair color. I was beat up and thrown out onto the sidewalk. Even the people walking around me wouldn't think to call the police as I struggled to get up. No one was there. No one was there…

Mom sets me on the couch in the living room and brings my things inside as I curl up, still crying. She puts my stuff at the end of the stairs and comes over to me. A single tear slides down her face before I breathe slowly and try to calm down.

"Is anyone else here?" I ask after a minute. "Besides Alex, I mean." Alex is my only younger sibling. She's younger than me by three years, and she still lives at home. (She'll be moving out next year, though)

"Yes," Mom says, getting a mug of fresh coffee from the counter. She hands it to me and goes over to the kitchen to keep herself occupied. "Jason came last night just to visit, which was amazing timing, Melissa came this morning around ten, and ran over right as I told her. It only took her an hour and a half to get here from L.A." Jason is my twin brother who lives in San Diego, just about twenty minutes away from Mom's house.

"Did she bring the kids?" I ask. Melissa has five kids, two of whom are twins.

"Yes, and David came too." David is Melissa's husband. He's okay, but I've only seen him a couple times.

"Anyone else?"

"Yes," Mom says, now making herself a cup of coffee. "Jessica and her kids, Daniel and Katie, Ava and little Jackie--" (Ava's a single mother with one daughter, Jackie) "--Liam, Noah and his family, and Emma with Rachel." Most of these people are my siblings. The lineup is Noah, who is 41 with three kids and a wife, who didn't come; Melissa, 35, with five kids and her husband, David; Ava, who is 33, with Jackie; Daniel is my brother and Katie is his wife. They've been married for a few years, and are both around 30 years old; Liam is 25 and isn't married or has kids yet; Emma and Rachel are married and have been together since ninth grade. They're both around their early twenties; Jason and I are the second to last siblings, and we both turned 20 a couple weeks ago; Alex is the last, and she's 17. Greyson was after Liam, and was about 24 when he died.

"So, everyone except Jo?" Johanna is Noah's wife.

"Yeah, she had to stay home because of work," Mom says. "Technically, they both did, but she insisted that he and the kids go for the day..."

I nod.

Mom sits down with her coffee. I take a sip from the mug she gave me. "So, where did he... pass?"

Mom takes a deep breath. "He was actually staying here," she says. "He was feeling like visiting. He said..."

I put my mug to my pursed lips and barely sip from it.

Mom takes another breath. "He said... 'I have a feeling I want to be here for tomorrow morning.'"

I blink away the tears forming in my eyes. I take another sip from my mug.

"He knew something would happen this morning?" I ask.

Mom nods a little. She gets up and starts wiping down the already-clean counters. I take a deep breath and get up. I set my coffee down on a coaster on the coffee table. I get my keys at the end of the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Mom asks with worry in her tone.

"I'm just getting my laptop from the car," I say, making my way to the door.

"Oh, okay," Mom says.

I open the front door and go to open my car. I get my laptop and charger, but end up sliding into the front seat. I bury my face in my hands. I cry silently as the lights inside the car shine onto me. I wipe my face and sit up straight. I take a deep breath and get my laptop again. I get the charger in the other hand and shut the door with my foot. I take my keys out of my pocket and lock the car. After I pull the keys out of the door, I walk back to the house and go inside.

I smile.

"Oh, good, you're back," Mom says. She's sitting on the couch wiping down the coffee table. "For a moment, I thought you were going to leave."

"No," I say, smiling. "I just couldn't find the charger."

Mom nods, smiling. She stands up. "Well, I've kept you up for too long," she says, putting her hands on my shoulders. "It's already 11:30. You only got here thirty minutes ago! Go on up to your old bedroom, you'll be staying there tonight."

I nod. "Thanks, mom," I say.

I put down my laptop and charger and hug her. She hugs me tightly. "I love you, honey," she says.

"Love you, too."

She helps me take my bags up to my room and says goodnight one more time. I wave as she closes the door. I sigh and fall onto the bed. I cry silently as I lay there, staring up at the ceiling of my childhood. I stared at this ceiling a lot in my years at home. Lots of tears have been shed in this room, evaporating into the stuffy air. The air has felt thinner in here ever since Dad died.

I get up and change into nothing except my bra and my underwear. I brush my hair and turn off the light. I collapse into the bed and get under the blankets. I toss and turn throughout the night, unable to not think of my older brother.

Greyson.

His face burns into my brain.

Greyson.

His blonde hair.

Greyson.

His tall stature.

Greyson.

His bright blue eyes.

Greyson.

His friendly smile.

Greyson.

I sit up, screaming.