𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙁𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 || EDDIE MUNSON

Their Song

BRANDY sometimes found herself in her backyard, naturally, any person would. Although her trips to her backyard were few and short, sometimes she would forget her backyard entirely if she weren't looking directly at it through a window, rather it be in the kitchen or through the one that was just past the foot of her bed, covered up by wooden blinds that she had since she was a small scrawny child.

Brandy found that her backyard brought her a sweet sense of nostalgia. Especially in the fall, for it was when her and Jameson would spend the most time playing with one another. The torrid summer was far too hot, Brandy felt as if she were melting, wanting to scream 'What a world! What a world!' as she smoldered in the heat. Jameson himself, would burn more or less. His face because so red that it looked as if it may blister.

Spring was a lovely time, though mud was always an issue as were allergies for the redhead. But the blonde didn't mind it so, she found an odd comfort in the invasive wildflowers that sprouted up among the lawns. With colorfully fragile petals and sweet smells that invaded the air. Winter always seemed far too cold. It was fun for a while, the snow being both blinding against the midday as well as gorgeous in its pureness and how delicate fresh powdery snow was indeed.

Thought after an hour or two it was soon too cold, and the small children would come running in, desperate for a hot drink and dry clothes. Aliments such as runny noses and numb flanges making them regret ever going outside in the first place. Though the two children always went outside again a day later, the issues that troubled and discomforted them not twenty-four hours before were soon forgotten, as their imaginations were a much more powerful motivation than any other.

So fall it was, with crisp cool air that wasn't too cold, yet it was humid or got either. The two could play outside until nightfall, even longer if their mothers allowed it. Fall was still her favorite season, the air just felt so lovely to breathe in. Like a cold glass of water to quench your thirst. Brandy liked looking at the different shades of plant life. Auburn's, browns, reds, golden yellows, some leaves still a gorgeous mix of olive and chartreuse.

The sound of the fallen dead leaves crunching under her feet was an odd slice that would forever bring her comfort. An old melody popped in her head, one by Nat King Cole, so as Brandy made her way to the old abandoned rope swing that was so much of her childhood, she hummed. "La de da- Tis' autumn." she sat on the swing, pushing her legs against the lightly leaf-covered ground.

An autumn serenade was the crunching leaves, Brandy zipped up her jacket. A mixed material windbreaker. With corduroy and cotton. Maroon collar and half the sleeves, mustard yellow pockets with the majority of the jacket being viridian. Brandy thought the colors looked quite lovely on her, though she preferred pinks and blues.

The blonde swung back and forth, pushing off against the bark base of the large oak tree. Soon the childish feeling it gave her faded, and the excitement that it could once illicit from her for hours at a time only seemed to last minutes. It was almost melancholic in a way, that things that once brought her such immense joy only satisfied her for a mere few moments.

With a sigh of utter disappointment she got off the swing, she looked to the sky, the sun being blocked out by burnt orange leaves. Faintly chirping birds were heard in the distance as she made her way back around to the side of her home, stepping into the door she closed it just as quickly. Even from the laundry room, Brandy could hear her mother's gramophone playing a song she hadn't heard in years.

The song in question that played on the turntable was a Paul Anka song, one her parents would dance to on repeat. Brandy exited the room, walking down the hall she leaned against the wood paneling of the wall. Looking at her mother, Atta intently listened to the single that scratched against the needle. With a sigh, she got her mother's attention.

Atta looked up, a glass of blood-red wine in hand. "I thought you were outside," She sniffed, quickly wiping away any evidence of the salty tears that ran down her powdered face.

"Why are you listening to this?" Brandy sighed, sympathy on her face.

"I listen to it often," Atta took a sip of her wine. "Just not when you're home."

"Oh," Brandy mumbled. She looked to her feet.

"Not everyone acts like travesties don't happen, Bea." Her mother told her. "But you do, so you get tiptoed around."

"I didn't know that extended to music." Brandy said quietly, moving to sit by her mother on the stiff couch.

"You wouldn't listen to a single rock record for a year and a half," Atta reminded. "Of course, it extends to music, my dear." Her words weren't flippant, more so teasing. "I do miss him, you know?" The woman told her daughter. "Despite what you may think about my current relationship."

"Mom, I-"

"By no means is Micheal your father, no matter how much I wish he was." And they called it, puppy love... "I don't know if it was because he was my first love, but it feels like he's my only one. And he always will be."

"Do you not love Micheal?" Brandy questioned.

"I care for him, deeply," Atta told her. "But not like Russel." Brandy laid her head against her mother's shoulder. "One day you'll find love like that, you'll fall so fast and hard that the ground hits you right in the face." She laughed sadly.

"You think?" Brandy asked, sniffling herself.

"You'll want to be around them all the time, all you can think of is them," Atta recalled from memory. "God forbid- but you'll want to run away with them, spend every waking moment in their arms."

"Did you run away with dad?" Brandy questioned.

"Twice," Atta chuckled. "God, I don't think I ever saw your Mamaw so mad," She wiped away a tear, even if she was laughing quietly. "She put a rifle to his chest when we came back after a week, but by then I already had a cheap rock on my finger."

"You ran away and got married?" Brandy looked up at her mom, with a shocked expression.

"Engaged." Atta corrected. "But your grandmother thought the same, I really thought she was gonna faint."

"What did Pop's say?" Brandy questioned about her grandfather.

"Well, he just laughed." The mother sighed with a smile as she recalled the story. "I think he always liked Russel. He was just too scared of Mama to say anything."

"Really?" Brandy asked. "And all this 'you'll think about them all the time.' Was that how you thought of dad?" She hummed.

"You'll understand one day," Atta told her.

But Brandy did understand, because, with all that talk of love and borderline codependency, all Brandy thought about, was Eddie.

Oh me oh my a double update???