What He Left Behind

Twenty Two

It's strange. I've always been told that school is meant to prepare us for life, that the things we're taught are meant to help us handle everything life could possibly throw at us. The truth is, I've been thrown a hell of a lot of curveballs in my life, and school has not helped me handle a single one of them. In fact, I haven't felt the slightest bit prepared for many of the things that have happened to me. I felt unprepared when Austin developed a drug problem. I felt more unprepared when I had to deal with the crippling pain of losing the only person who understood me. I felt painstakingly unprepared when I had to balance that crippling pain with caring for my depressed mother. I felt more unprepared than ever when Rena dropped the bombshell that my late brother had a child. Then again, is there any way you can prepare someone for hearing the news that their late brother had a child?

"N-no," I stammer, "Austin doesn't have a kid." My eyebrows furrow together as I try to make sense of everything. I carefully think back, desperately trying to recall dates and timings, or any hint Austin might have given me that could possibly substantiate Rena's claims. I try to process everything but it's impossible because my brain has shut down. Lost, I drop my head in my hands.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rena reach into her bag and take something out. She places something down on the table in front of me. It takes a second for my eyes to focus – and for me to muster up the courage to look, but when I do, I see a photograph of a smiling baby with big brown eyes and a wide smile.

"That's him," she informs me, "Jacob Austin Fisher." I stare intently at the photo for a second, searching for a resemblance between the baby and my brother, just to ensure that this isn't some sick wind up.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" I ask. Rena takes another photo from her bag. It's of her and Austin. I inhale sharply, caught off-guard; I usually have to psyche myself up a bit before I look at pictures of Austin.

"I promise you it's Austin's. He was my first love, well my only love. I've never been with anyone else," Rena explains, the sincerity in her voice making it impossible not to believe her.

I look closely at the picture. Austin looks painfully ill, so I know the photo must have been taken only a short while before his death. His eyes are shining though, with such brightness that there is no doubting he was truly happy in the moment. Rena is sat by his side, her lips pressed to his cheek. They look like the happiest couple in the world, and I wonder how such a seemingly perfect relationship was allowed to be destroyed so mercilessly and without reason. I wonder how I never knew about what was going on right under my nose. The thought makes me feel as stupid and clueless as my parents, and that familiar sense of guilt starts to gnaw at my stomach.

"Austin never told me he had a girlfriend," I whisper, "He told me everything."

Rena sighs, glancing down at her hands and sucking her lips together. "He wanted to tell you Noelle. He really did and I'm not just saying that. He wanted to tell you more than anyone and we really considered it sometimes, but he was scared."

"Why?"

"We'd been through some shitty stuff before we met. When we found each other, it was the best feeling in the world," she grins, her whole face lighting up at the memory, "No one else was interested in me once they discovered I was an addict, but Austin understood. He was patient and he loved me unconditionally and he made me so fucking happy. We knew we were blessed to have each other. But we were scared. We were scared to death that it was too good to be true, and we didn't want to put a foot wrong, in case it all got taken away from us. It sounds silly but I guess we wanted it to be our secret. There was no way we could have been torn apart if no one knew. At least that's what we thought."