I know this is not true, because their bodies were found. Charred, unrecognizable. But they were found. We buried them next to each other.
The first thing I see is a shoe. It’s burned quite a bit, but I recognize it immediately. One of my Steve Madden platform flip-flops. Why the hell would someone even take this out of the rubble and ash?
I hold it in my hand and turn it around, inspecting it for further damage. Without the other one, it’s useless so I toss it across the room and a cloud of soot forms when it hits the floor.
Disgusted, I continue to pick through the contents of the box.
My old pink stuffed dog is in here. She’s just as gray as she was before this happened, but she has a coating of fine ash and dust on her. I called her Googie because I didn’t know how to say doggy when I was little. So the name stuck. My Googie.
Tears fill my eyes as I pull her to my chest. Mom told me I got her the day that I was born. I can’t believe she wasn’t incinerated in the fire. I place her gingerly on my pillow and know I’ll be snuggling with her tonight.
There’s something shiny in the box that catches my eye, and I reach in to grab it. It’s my Sweet Sixteen charm bracelet. I hold it up in front of my face, dangling it from my little finger. The single charm catches light pouring in through the window. This charm bracelet was my mother’s, and she gave it to me the morning of my sixteenth birthday. The morning she died. She was dangling it over my nose while I woke up. It’s old-fashioned but retro looking. I love it, and I love that she gave me what her mother gave to her when she turned sixteen. It miraculously doesn’t have a speck of ash on it. I open the lobster claw clasp and wrap it around my wrist. The coolness from the gold metal tingles on my skin, and I hold my wrist in the air so I can inspect the bracelet closely.
I love you, Mom.
I don’t think I can bear to go through this box anymore. This is too painful. I stand up and prepare to close the box up again when one more thing catches my eye. I reach in and pull out the familiar blue ribbon. My First Place award from the science fair in fifth grade. I feel the threads between my forefinger and thumb and rub it gently. At one time, I felt victorious holding this between my fingers. But suddenly I feel rage.
The ribbon falls from my hand and onto my pillow, and I hurl the box from my bed. It hits the floor and another cloud of soot fills the room.
My whole life in a box.
I try to regain composure. I place my head on my pillow, next to the blue ribbon and Googie. I stare up at the ceiling and let my eyes close slowly. I imagine myself, floating in our pool, just my nose and mouth exposed to the air.
Deep breaths.
In.
Out.
I inhale and exhale as if my life depends on it. Each breath slow and deliberate.
Please tell me what to do, Dad.
Can you hear me?
I need you now more than ever.
My silent voice goes unanswered.
My breaths remain even.
I feel like I’m floating.
I wish I were floating.
Garrett
Past
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Age 21
“IT’S OFFICIAL!” TRISTAN SLURS, and we all do an Alabama Slammer shot together. “You’re twenty-one!”
Bob the bartender looks at me funny and shakes his head. He’s been serving me for a few years, and he genuinely seems surprised that I was underage. He points to the rest of the band and demands their driver’s licenses. I’m the last one to turn twenty-one, so he’s in the clear.
“I could have gotten in real trouble, you assholes,” he says and angrily goes to help another customer.
Dax laughs. “There’s no way he didn’t know.”
I shrug it off and take Alex’s shot from him. “Are you going to drink this?”
He waves me off and leaves the bar.
“What’s up with him?” I ask. Dax ignores me and Tristan takes a call on his phone.
We’re getting ready to leave on our first big tour. I gather that he and Tabby are having ‘issues’ and I’m not surprised. Their relationship has been a disaster since before it even started. I shrug my shoulders and drink his shot.
My phone buzzes and my mother’s phone number pops up.
I pick it up and hear her and Bill singing “Happy Birthday” into the phone. I cringe when they attempt to hit the high notes and they finally stop. “Hey, honey,” my mom says. “Happy Birthday.”
I know she tries to make this day special for me, ever since my dad killed himself, but it’s always a huge fail. I can’t seem to find happiness on such an otherwise dark day.
“Promise you’ll come visit us when we move,” she begs. Mom and Bill are moving to North Carolina to be close to the rest of her family. They decided not to sell the house that I grew up in just in case I need a place to crash when I’m not on tour. I accept the gesture as a sign of their love for me.
“I will,” I say. I see Tristan returning from the other side of the bar with several more drinks and shots. “Hey, I gotta go.”
“Be safe and we love you.”
I hang up as soon as he slides onto the barstool next to me. “Hey there, mama’s boy,” he says, and I want to pummel him. He’s constantly making fun of me and the dozens of times a week that she calls me.
“Shut the fuck up, douchebag.”
“I can’t believe we leave for tour tomorrow. It’s crazy, isn’t it? We’re going to be huge rock stars.” Tristan throws back a shot and pushes one toward me.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, dude. We’re popular here, but out there, who knows.” I try to ground him in reality a little bit, but he won’t stay out of the clouds.
“What time do we have to meet the bus?” I ask, scanning the room for tonight’s hook-up.
He groans. “Five thirty in the morning.”
“Shit.” I do a shot and wince. “What the hell was that?” I ask, pointing to the empty shot glass.
“I don’t know. Bob made it for us.”
That explains it.
He must have poured a dirty ashtray into the most god-awful booze he could find as revenge. I feel like I’m going to puke.
“Suck it up.” Tristan laughs and picks up his phone. “I’ve got to make a call. See you tomorrow morning, birthday boy.” He snatches his phone from the bar and trots to the door. He must be looking to get one last night in with Kirsten before he’s on the road for a while.
I don’t know how much time passes, but the place is practically empty and Bob is wiping down the bar in front of me. The house lights flick on and I squint. “Jesus, turn the lights down.”
“Last call was an hour ago, G. Time for you to get going.”
“What time is it?” I ask. Did I fall asleep in here?
“It’s just after three. C’mon, we all want to go home.”
How did so many hours go by and I didn’t even notice? There are at least eight shot glasses turned upside down in front of me, and I have my hand wrapped around a warm beer. I must have fallen asleep sitting up.
“I’m going,” I say and stand up. I walk out to the quiet city street and hail the first cab I can find. I give him an address and lean back into the seat.
“Is this it?” he asks, confused. I look out the window and see the tour bus that we’ll be riding on for the next several months.
“Yup,” I say and drop a twenty into his outstretched hand.