The Badboy and The Jailbird

Chapter 25 "Aftermath"

Baxter died 2 days later. The previous days were spent with the five of us sitting in the hospital, playing games with Baxter in his room, and feasting on fried chicken.

His parents organized a funeral to his liking as well as a wake, to celebrate his life. These were to both take place the following Saturday... in 2 days. In my opinion, they should have waited at least 4 or 5 days but I guess the sooner it happens, the sooner it's over.

Caleb, Taylor, Jamie, and I sat on my living room floor for hours, not knowing what to do or say.

Later that day, Maxine, Miguel, and Carla showed up and they all cried. A lot.

But for me, I can't say the same.

-

I sit on the bean bag with my legs stretched out watching my friends hug and cry and share memories of Baxter. They share the popcorn and ice cream that Miguel brought. Just then my sister, little brother, mother and her boyfriend walk through the door.

They stop walking when they see the mass of teenagers crying on the floor.

"What in the world..." My mother's voice drifts off as her eyes find mine. Sadness fills them immediately. Something about her intense look causes the emotions to rush in and I can feel the burning sensation behind my eyes telling me I am about to cry.

I jump off the bean bag and sprint upstairs. My eyes begin blurring, quicker and quicker. As the door slams shut, I run to the cover of my brother's bed, begging to smell him again. I attempt to conceal the sounds of my sobs with pillows but it obviously doesn't work. My mother's light footsteps pause once she reaches the door. There is a small knock.

Already expecting some bullshit, touchy-feely moment, I try to wipe my tears away and control my breathing.

With a shaky voice, I turn to the door and say come in.

I lay on my stomach and attempt to hide my face. She sits towards the end of the bed, puts a hand on my leg, and sighs.

"I know it hurts."

It does. It really does.

"The pain won't go away, but you know that already, don't you?"

I nod my head.

She sighs heavily again, her breath shaking a bit. "I wish I could make it better but all I can do is be here for you whenever you want to talk." I turn my head just a little so I can see her. Her eyes aren't on me but on the many posters and pictures on the walls. Tears begin to fall again so I look away.

I think about confiding in her, saying everything that's in my mind. But in the past, she hasn't been able to understand. Even though she's been on different sides of the situation, my mother can never seem to put herself in my shoes. She's called me crazy, mentally ill, and even idiotic when it comes to my emotions and reactions to death. It hasn't been easy.

"I didn't know him that well, you know." She seems shocked by the rawness of my voice but attempts to hide it quickly. My mother stares at me with pity in her eyes, and that alone is almost enough to send me into an angry sobbing fit, but it doesn't.

"I didn't know he existed until about 2 or 3 weeks ago." When I tried to kill myself... I sniff and clear my throat. "and we became close so quickly..." Memories, still fresh in my brain, burn into my thoughts. How he saved me from myself, talked to me like I was human, his beautiful laugh... and I begin to cry. Once another tear escapes, I can't stop the rest. My mother stares with wide eyes, unaware of what to do.

At a certain point after the fire, about 3 years later, I gathered all of my courage and told my mother I was suicidal. She initially looked shocked, but then began laughing. A nauseous, sick feeling started to grow in my stomach. I realized that I had never been serious with her, ever, and frequently joked about dark things. Though in my mind, I thought that a mother should know when their child is serious or joking.

I feel her scoot closer to me and rest her hand on my back.

"It will be okay."

"I know, mom."

"Good." She pauses and looks intensely into my eyes. "I love you. You know that... right?"

"Yeah, I know." For some reason, her touch begins to make me squirm and I feel like running. I sit up and dramatically rub my face and sigh.

"Alrighty mother, I think I'm going to go watch a movie with my friends if that's okay?" She smiles a bit and nods standing up.

My mother walks slowly to me and gives me a curt side hug.

I give her a curt smile and open the door. The sounds of my friends' voices float up the stairs, and I begin towards them with my mother following.

Miguel and Taylor's frustrated voices become clearer, along with movie titles. As I round the corner, I see Taylor on top of the couch holding two movies in his hands, Venom and Death Note. Miguel is standing in the middle of the rest of my sitting friends with his hands raised, clearly angry, while the rest of them are snickering on the sides.

"Ok," Miguel puts his hands down and stares directly into Taylor's eyes. "Let me get this straight." He steps towards the couch. "You think Death Note is BETTER THAN VENOM? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Taylor scoffs and then a chuckle escapes his lips, and I lean against the door frame and watch, a smirk growing on my lips.

"What's wrong with me? Oh boy, where do I start? Maybe the only thing that isn't wrong with me, is that I like Death Note more than Venom."

I cough to draw his attention and my smirk widens.

"I vote..." My eyes meet Taylor's. "We watch Venom."

Taylors mouth drops and a look of defeat cross his face. He seems to admit defeat and slumps off the couch.

Miguel puts in the DVD, while the rest of us gather in a large pile with blankets on top. Taylor scoots closer and lays his head on my chest. I spend a good chunk of the movie playing with his blonde hair, memorizing the creases around his eyes and mouth, the freckles on his cheeks, the way he laughs every time something witty is said, and noticing how he occasionally looked to see if I was laughing too and his eyes lingering on my lips.

A thought passed through my mind, so quick, yet life-changing.

I want to spend my life with him.