Then I remember coming clean to my father. Telling him I knew where Clay and Virginia were. Telling him I knew she was in trouble. Telling him I’d done my best to bring her home, but I wasn’t enough. I was about to turn twenty-one and guilt was eating at me once again. He told me he understood and that if anyone could bring Virginia home, it would be me. He added that I should never stop trying to reach out to her, but I should also never tell Ian that I knew about the drugs because that would hurt him more. So I didn’t.
I lie restlessly in my bed. Thank God Ellen turned my bedroom into a guest room. It’s mine, everybody knows it, nobody uses it, but it’s just a guest room. I couldn’t have stayed in here tonight if it still looked like the room I grew up in. Not that I think sleep is in my near future anyway. I don’t want to be alone in my bed. I’ll be alone for the rest of my life, especially now that I’ve lost my father.
I think of the last time I slept in the same bed with someone. Luke isn’t far. I could slip under his sheets. I wanted to be apart from the group tonight but not apart from him. Not really. I just couldn’t tell him that. He soothes me, and I don’t know how I let that happen. I know if I showed up in his room, he would hold me while I cry or rub my back to show he’s here for me. I’m torn between walking the distance to feel better or staying in bed, continuing to feel miserable.
I decide to stay. I can’t bring myself to try to feel anything other than dejected. I just lost my anchor; I need to learn how to survive. I can’t hold on to a rock right away. I have to embrace the pain and accept that once again, I didn't do what I should have. I can’t avoid my wrongdoing anymore, but I’m not sure I can fix it either.
15
Luke
I stand tall, trying to empty my mind of all the thoughts floating around. I let out a breath before lifting my arms overhead and gently bending back. Inhaling, I push away Dex’s sadness.
I bend forward, diving into the air, exhaling all the annoyance I feel toward Clay’s douchiness.
I step my right leg back, taking in a slow breath to calm my latent horniness.
I step my left leg back, breathing out and letting go of my anger at having to face Dex’s mother and her bitchiness.
I hold my plank for three full breaths and lower myself, blowing out all my worries.
I continue pairing each movement with a breath, finding my balance where I can.
I lift my hips and push back on my arms, roll my toes, and push on my legs to bring my ass into the air, step the right foot forward, then the left, and bring my head to my knees. I raise my arms overhead again, gently bend back, and I stand tall, exhaling deeply.
I continue a couple of times.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale
In…
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Dex hasn’t said a word to me or any of us in thirty-six hours. He spent yesterday walled in silence, and we let him mourn. We decided not to push him. He spent the day with his family, organizing the funeral, but according to Emma, he didn’t speak.
“Yoga,” I tell him, tongue in cheek. This is the ultimate test to determine where Dex’s mind is. He loathes yoga.
I continue my sun salutations without giving him a glance. I want to do an extra five. I generally practice yoga only when I can’t find a gym to use a punching bag. I don’t drink much, so working out is how I numb myself. Healthier than what any of the others do.
I’m in downward dog in gym shorts, and I can’t stop thinking about the view he might have. He steps behind me, and as usual, my body reacts to him. I fix my eyes on his sweatpants, trying not to get turned on by his bare feet and bare chest, or to imagine him taking me right here in the middle of Ian’s living room, in this exact position.
“I thought you were a rebel of some sort, and I realize now you’re a hipster. Fuck my life!”
I lose my balance from trying to suppress a laugh. Dex jumps in and wraps his hands around my waist so I don’t fall nose-first onto the floor. My ass gets drawn to his crotch, and I move slightly to find my stability.
“I see some advantages in yoga all of a sudden,” he says, rubbing his body against mine.
I stand up, but Dex doesn’t let go of me. He embraces me, his perfectly shaved face resting against my naked back.
“Morning, beardy,” he says softly.
My heart tightens at his sweetness, and I take his hand. “Hey, Dex. Did you sleep here last night?”
He nods against my skin. It feels good, but it doesn’t last. He steps back, and I miss him right away. I’ve missed his touch for a while.
“I thought being in my father’s house made me lose sleep, but I spent the same awful night here, so I guess…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but he doesn’t need to. I understand his silence more than his words. I always have.
“What do you need today, little prince?”
This afternoon is the funeral, and Dex is giving the eulogy. One of the many things his father requested. We all believed it would take longer to make the funeral arrangements, but John had it all planned out. It seems like the father was as organized as the son.
“Not much. I’m fine.”
I hear what he’s saying, but I know better than to believe him. Dex is not fine. He’s also not the kind of man you can press like a lemon to get feelings from. You have to be patient. Wait for him to accept he has so-called feelings before he’ll share them—if he decides to share them.
“I need to get ready,” he says as he backs away.
I nod and smile in an understanding way. He means that he needs to shower and get dressed, but he also needs to mentally get ready to bury his father and say some last words in front of a church filled with people who respected the guy. I shouldn’t be worried. Dex is always ready. He knows what he has to do and how to do it. But deep inside, something is telling me he needs more help than he’ll ask for. So I get ready myself, because if he has to fall, I sure hope it’ll be on me.
Going to church is my least favorite activity. Not that I don’t believe in God. I just get fidgety sitting for a long time on an uncomfortable bench, especially while wearing a suit.
The procession starts, and the casket is carried in by Mr. Crawford’s closest friends: fellow judges of course, senators, governors, and a couple others I don’t recognize. It’s quite impressive. Emma told us they had to hire security and ask the press for some privacy—which they agreed to after the celebrities attending issued some statements—so her father’s friends could grieve without being pestered by the media.
I look around and see that the church is full. I had no idea Judge Crawford was so appreciated. I met the guy once at Ian and Julie’s wedding, and he was nice to me, but not more than Ian’s parents. Seeing hundreds of people crammed into the church to pay their respects is an indication he was certainly more than just nice. I wish I had known him better; he would have certainly helped me to understand Dex more.
I was a little confused when I saw we had reserved and named seats in the second row, right behind the immediate family. I’m sandwiched between Ryan and Ian, their women on either side of them. In front of us are Asher, Emma, Dex, Ellen, and Clay.