History Doesn't Repeat Itself

Chapter 22

GALE

My birthday. One of the happiest moments of my life, and I get to spend it with Christy.

I stare ahead at the dark, ominous road. My window was open and all I could hear were the creaking sound of crickets outside and Christy's drunk talking while she sat beside me.

"Why do you never talk about your brother? He was a pretty cool guy." Christy says in a drunken tone.

Usually, I laugh at her sudden conversation starters, but not this one.

I shake my head and I sigh. "How many beers did you drink, bub? You smell like the dollar store alcohol aisle."

She giggles and playfully slaps my arm.

"What?" I laugh. "It's sort of true."

She leans in to kiss me on the cheek and giggles.

"So are you going to talk about him?"

I smile. "About who?"

"Lars."

"Oh, come on! I know you miss him and all that, but can you at least tell me about how he was before. . . you know."

I giggle without humor. "You're drunk."

"Don't you love him? I loved him, past tense, but I'm sure you still do, Lev."

"Please stop."

"Sorry, I'm just really curious about why you don't like talking about him. Do you like writing little notes like he does? Ooh! Did he like cats too?"

The sudden image of Lev holding the stray cat we found walking outside the house when we were kids floated inside my mind, and I missed him even more.

"I can't talk about that right now, Christy."

"But why no–"

"I just can't."

"You can trust me." Christy whines. "You can say anything you want."

"I don't want to."

"But Lev would–"

"Christy!" I yell out. "Cut it out."

I feel tears form at the back of my eyes and all I could do was wipe them. I glance at Christy.

"Bub, I'm sorry," I say, feeling a sharp stab in my chest. "I didn't mean to."

She shifts in her seat and leans on the window. "I only wanted to talk about him. You could've just said no."

I did. . . I said it ten times.

I stare at the road, and my vision became blurry.

Two left turns, 26 Kilometers, three right turns and we would have been home.

"I miss him. I can't talk about him on my birthday. I. . . can't." I say.

Fuck!

I couldn't see the road through my tears, so I tried to step on the brake, but the car just kept moving forward.

"Lev! Calm down!" I hear Christy yell out while she grabbed the steering wheel.

Everything turns black.

I open my eyes, and I see Christy resting on me. My back felt like it had shards of glass piercing through it. But the sight of Christy's bleeding head hurt much more.

I wake up to my hand gripping my pillow.

I try to look around, trying to see where I was, hoping and praying to God that whatever happened was just a dream. It wasn't. I was in my room, but guilt was eating through me. Consuming me.