Lemon Drop From Heaven -SLOW-

Chapter Five

After a while even hanging with Cam gets tiring. She's fun and all but enough is enough.

Chiara was coming to her senses about our argument and apologized that Tuesday.

Over all, that was the biggest fight we've ever had. I was actually nervous we would never get back together again. But after being mad for two weeks, we finally gave up on the case and got back together.

There were a lot of things that we had to catch up on in that long time. Most of it involved friends and boys. Sometimes I find it sad that our lives revolve around guys who will never like us, and dreams that will never be fulfilled. But sometimes that's just the way life is.

Everything was going well between Chiara and me when I got a call from my mom. I immediately picked up, and through the phone I could hear her sadness, and the tears softly dripping from her face.

"Mom? What's wrong?"

She didn't answer automatically but I could feel what was coming next from a mile away.

"Your brother Pac he was..." Her silence hung in the air like a rain cloud. "he had a heart attack at school, caused by stress, and he lost a lot of blood." The cloud gave up and let the rain fall, hitting the ground and filling the streets.

I must have cried for hours. It wasn't only the fact that my oldest and most farorite brother was in the hospital but also the fact that I wouldn't be able to see him. The doctors said it was for the best while he recovered. I thought that the best thing would be having his family by his side as he went through this, but nothing we could say would change the doctor's mind. So we gave up but demanded a letter from him every week telling us he's okay. At the longest he should be there for a month.

It's still hard to remember his laugh sometimes and I miss his sense of humor that always seemed to lift our spirits, even at the darkest of times. My brother was special. He had the smile of a newborn baby-and the common sense of one too. Even though sometimes I forget his face or his voice, I know that he will be okay. He has to be okay.

"And he will be." Mom says as I explain this all to her.

"I know. I know." I try to sound confident but I am having trouble even persuading myself. I just walk away after that, Trying to hold down my tears until I'm alone hiding in the safe haven of my bedroom. When I get there I suddenly lose the urge to cry but instead I reflect on my times with Pac. The one kept replaying in my head. The time he taught me how to ride a go cart.

Technically it's against the law to drive at the age of 6. So if we got pulled over we would be in HUGE trouble. My brother -of course- didn't care at all and was happy for the attention and my favoritism to him. I gave up all my free time and all my weekends for a couple of weeks to learn to drive with him. It was fun. The special attention, the stolen smiles and laughs that ended in coughing fits. Everything. 

My favorite memory of that time was when we raced around the lake at our Summer home. Pac had the blue cart that he called Bucker and I had the green one nicknamed Blaze. There is a reason we call Bucker... Bucker, this was especially made clear that very day as, while we were racing Pac hit a rock and Bucker bucked. (Luckily) He landed safely in the water, drenching his clothes. All we could do was laugh, and laugh, and laugh, until he pulled me in with him. We swam until my parent came out looking for us. Boy were they angry!

I was flashed to the present, and the dark reality. Pac wasn't coming back.