𝗣 𝗬 𝗥 𝗢 𝗠 𝗔 𝗡 𝗜 𝗔 | BOOK THREE

T W E N T Y - S E V E N

[graham eaton]

"Atticus Ezekiel Eaton, a name derived from two important men in history--one a fictional lawyer with enough gumption and guts to do what is right even while the rest of the world may have believed it was wrong. The man who defended an undependable man and made his case look impossibly easy. Without breaking a sweat, he defended a man who had been accused of a gutless, spineless, immoral crime. With all of the facts adding up, the case became easier and easier, yet the rest of the world was against him. But Atticus, a noble name, will not die here. Ezekiel--a police officer, a friend, uncle, father, painter, skier, hiker, runner, chef, swimmer, and everything else in between, noble enough to donate a piece of his life to his best friend, an injured man with a family to return to  so that he may one day see his friend's family start as well. Ezekiel, a man strong enough to see the light on the other side before his friend, but wait months to tell the stories of what that light may hold. An uncle, kind enough, cool enough, and strong enough that his name is passed to a boy, his nephew, without blood relation, just as a thank you for saving his father. Atticus Ezekiel, a boy kind enough, noble enough, strong enough to take a hit for an undeserving brother and bleed the blood of the bloodline broken by the loss of this spectacular boy. A boy with a name so perfectly created and a heart so golden that no one person, no, no group of people, will ever equal what he has done and the toll the loss of his life will take on this world. Rest Easy, brother. We've got it from here." I say.

Atticus laughs, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Wow, that was..." He trails off, inhaling sharply.

"Amazing? Tear-jerking? Awe-inspiring?" I ask. "I know, I wrote it."

He shakes his head and laughs again.

"I was going to say Dramatic." He says. "Plus, I'm not dead. I'm fine. The surgery went well and I'm about to take on the opportunity of a lifetime."

I nod, lifting his luggage out of the trunk of his car, taking the keys from him to drive the car back home.

"I know, it's just that you're going to miss Rory's wedding. You were going to get an award named after you by the foundation and a grant to pay for your injuries and recovery." I say. 

He rolls his eyes and exhales.

"I'm only going to be gone for three months. I get to teach about fires and injuries and repelling. It's going to be great, plus--Anya is going to be there. I'm going to have a good time. It's going to be good to get away from Chicago for a little bit, you know. Plus, maybe I'll snag a ticket to a Yankees game while I'm up there." He says. "You hear anything from Jolene? Maybe she'll forgive you soon."

I shake my head, exhaling. Six months ago, the studio burnt to the ground and there was nothing we could do but watch as everything she loved burnt with it too. When she finally got back to the apartment after her two week hospital stay, she packed up what was left of her belongings and disappeared with the night. When Atticus woke up a few days after she disappeared, it numbed the pain of losing her too to know that my brother was alive and going to make it. 

"I don't think it's that simple. Plus, she blocked my number or got a new cellphone number all together. I don't blame her. I mean, that was her last piece of her dad. His insurance check is what was paying for that place. Now, all the check pays for is a pile of ashes and a pyromaniac's grave. We'll see if she forgives me with time, but I doubt it." I say. "I think I lost her for good."

"Any and all remaining passengers boarding flight 217 to New York, please head to your gate now with ticket and ID out for checking." A female voice says over the intercom. 

He leans forward, hugging me tightly. 

"Thank you, Graham. I love you, man." He says. "It's just three months, then I'll be home. You won't even know I'm gone." 

I hug him back and nod, shoving him towards the doors.

"Go! You're going to miss your flight and this whole 'goodbye' won't be worth it anymore." I say. "I love you too, man. Be safe."

He nods and runs inside, waving goodbye. I wave and watch him disappear into the mass of people in the airport. Is this what watching your loved ones disappear actually feels like? I don't like it... Even though he's only going to be gone for three months, it feels like a piece of my heart is walking away and catching a plane to New York City. A honk from a car behind me pulls me out of my trance. I nod and climb back inside and drive away from the O'Hare airport, watching it fade away in my rearview mirror. I drive the car to my Parents's house and spot my mother standing in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of tea. I climb out and walk inside. The home, a comfortable home that I've known all my life. This was my childhood home, the home where Atticus was born, the home where I broke the window with a baseball when I was seven with Atticus, the home where Livia colored on the walls very Friday until she was four years old. This was where we grew up and shaped our lives. My mother spots me and sighs.

"He didn't stay, did he?" She asks.

I shake my head, tossing his keys into the dish by the front door.

"No, he didn't. He was quite insistent on going. Says it would be good for him to get out of Chicago for a little bit. Also said he's gonna go to a Yankees game while he's up there. I've never been more jealous." I say.