Hooked Up

Chapter 13 - A Brother Knows Best

Knock knock, someone knocks on my door, effectively waking me up. I look at the clock: eleven-thirty. I only got home five hours ago.

"Go away," I yell as I snuggle deeper in the covers. The door opens and Nate peeks in.

"Get up, get dressed and meet me downstairs."

I stare at him grumpily. "Can't whatever it is wait? I want to sleep."

"Are you hangover?" he asks, examining my face.

"No, just tired," I complain.

"Yeah yeah, get up or I'm going alone."

"Going where?" I sit up and throw my feet over the edge of the bed.

"To mom and dad," he says softly and ducks out, closing the door behind him. I sit on the bed fully awake now, taking in his words. Oh.

I hurriedly put on black jeans, a thick blue sweater, and boots, brushing a comb through my hair and brushing my teeth before meeting Nate downstairs. He hands me my coat and we walk to his car in silence.

The drive to the cemetery takes twenty minutes, all of which we sit quietly. Nate parks the car and leads the way to our parents' graves. I haven't been here since the funeral, afraid if I came, I'd never be able to stitch myself back together again.

I now stare at the tombstones, tears building in my eyes. One year ago today they died, leaving the two of us alone. One year ago today a piece of my heart shattered for forever.

Nate pulls out two bouquets of flowers from his bag and gives me one of them. I take it gingerly and gently brush the snow off the top of dad's headstone before laying the flowers on it. Nate does the same for mom, and we take a step back.

Nate's arm comes to rest around my shoulders and I lean my head against his chest, letting the tears spill. I haven't let myself fall apart since the funeral, and now the tears won't stop. Nate squeezes my shoulder and I notice his eyes are wet, as well.

We stand there for I don't know how long, just staring at the headstones, silently telling our parents we miss them. I cry until my eyes are red and stinging, and then wipe my face on my sleeve.

"You ready to go?" Nate asks, wiping his eyes as well.

"Yeah," I smile sadly and touch both tombstones as a goodbye. "See you soon," I whisper and walk away. Nate catches up to me in a minute and we head back to the car, hand in hand, taking support in each other.

The drive back home goes by in a blur, my head still in a hazy cloud of grief and bittersweet memories.

"Want some pancakes?" Nate asks, taking off his coat as we enter home. "Mom's famous blueberry ones."

"Sure," I smile, feeling cathartic. I should've done that a long time ago. It's weird how crying can actually make you feel better. It's like some of the weight has been lifted of my chest, allowing me more room to breathe.

I sit on a stool and watch as Nate mixes the batter. "Where's the dork?"

"At work," he tells me. "And would it hurt you guys to get along?"

"Yes," I stick out my tongue. "No but we do actually get along nowadays. Kind of. Sometimes." Once in a blue moon.

"Yeah?" he looks at me doubtfully. I'm not surprised, considering most of our good moments have been with just the two of us. Nate has only seen us fighting and constantly throwing jabs at each other.