Life in Vegas || Brendon Urie

Chapter 28

Shortly after my mom was taken off life support, I returned back to Michigan. Her funeral was held in a small cemetery outside East Lansing so that family and friends that knew her could attend and pay their respects, although they really barely knew her.

After the ceremony was finished, I decided to move on. I took her being laid to rest as my symbolism to start new and forget the past. I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't let Brendon stand in my way anymore; I had goals to pursue and as long as he was with me, I was being held back.

My first step to getting rid of Brendon was removing all of his things. I gathered the clothes that I had of his and folded them up, then placed them in a taped box and stored them in the closet, labeled "Fragile."

Next, I took all of the photos that I had, both physical prints and copies on my phone, and put them where I couldn't see them. For the prints, I locked them in a book box. Everything on my phone I simply placed in a folder and buried it underneath everything else so that I wouldn't see it.

Finally, I wrote down all of Brendon's social media handles, along with his phone number, and then blocked him on everything that I could.

As I completed my overly dramatic measures, I made sure they were all reversible. I could unpack the clothes. I could unlock the box of photos and recover the album on my phone. I could unblock his contact points. Right now, I couldn't completely rid myself of him, but I could push him to the very edges of my memory.

I went back to school after being absent for two weeks total. Miraculously, having a professor for a father works wonders. I was excused from finals in most of my classes, and the ones that I wasn't excused from were easy. One of those finals was my art final. Only then did it happen upon me that I still needed to paint a portrait and write a ten page paper with a week and a half of school left.

What inspires me? I asked myself. I really had no clue. I thought and thought, until I came up with something. Time inspires me. When it passes quickly, I'm inclined to make sure that I'm doing what I can with it. When I passes slowly, I feel the need to do things that make it go faster.

I decided I would paint a clock and make it artsy somehow, but I would do it later, due to extreme lack of motivation.

"Kendall!" My dad hollered from downstairs.

"What?" I called back. No response. "What?" Nothing. I threw myself off my bed and stomped downstairs.

"You called?" I spat. I hated it when my dad couldn't simply tell me why he needed me.

"Yeah, you have some mail here," he said, handing me a stack of letters.

I reluctantly took them. "Thanks," I said, then retreated back to my room. Part of me wanted to sit down there with my dad and open the letters with him. Things hadn't been the same since I came home; I had felt somewhat abandoned by him and we were both grieving differently. Although I needed the support of my father now more than ever, I wouldn't admit it out loud.

After locking my door, I sunk down into the chair in the corner of my room and began to flip through the letters.

One from the college. One from the hospital. One from each of my teachers. All of them sending their condolences and extending a helping hand.

One envelope remained; it was unmarked, save for the addressing. The return address looked familiar, but there was no name with it. I ran my index finger beneath the flap of the envelope and removed the folded white paper.

Dear Kendall

I'm so sorry to hear of your mom's passing. I had no clue that was why you had returned. I'd like to apologize one more time for Brendon. My son is out of line right now. Boyd and I came to the difficult conclusion to put him out on his own. Hopefully he'll come out of this rut a better man.