Crescendo

Chapter 22

Soundtrack for this chapter:
What I've Done—Linkin Park
Sober Up—AJR
Whatever it Takes—Imagine Dragons

22

Theo

I woke with a violent shake.

I hadn't had a nightmare like the one I'd just woken up from in weeks; those nightmares had ceased the moment Jules told me she loved me.

I felt the hole in my chest, felt the blood seeping through my clothing, dripping off my fingers. I saw Gabe; he'd never been so clear in my dreams before.

Jules.

I was so angry with her. Angry because she lied to me. Angry because she didn't trust me. Angry because I wasn't sure exactly who it was that I was deeply and maddeningly in love with.

She drove me fucking crazy.

With a forceful push, I got myself out of bed and pulled out the first t-shirt my fingers could find in my dresser. When I yanked her...my Celtics shirt from the drawer, something clanked to the floor: my tags.

I stared into the ceiling. Don't fuck with me, Gabe.

The metal tags felt cool in my hands as my thumb swiped over the stamped letters and numbers. I thought about the last time something like that happened, and the images and emotions came sweeping back.

It was just a few months after everything had happened overseas, and I was still so pissed off about so many things. I couldn't play the drums. I couldn't rejoin the army. I never even had the chance to go to Gabe's funeral. It was the dead of fucking winter. There was that dirty slush of snow covering all of Boston. Mom's garden was beyond dead, everything dry and brown.

And I was just sitting there on grandpa's bench, and everything hurt so much and everything brought me unquantifiable frustration and I started thinking about the bar dad kept. He always had tons of alcohol, the expensive shit, gifts from his partners at the firm. And I just thought that maybe, maybe if I could numb some of what I was feeling, maybe if I could just erase the last six months of my life, I would feel a little better.

And just as I pushed myself up from the bench, my eyes caught a small glimpse of blue among the grey and brown swirl of our yard. I walked towards the new color, and I found myself peering at a tiny cluster of forget-me-nots peeking out of the snow.

I knew it was him. I don't know how, but I did. Some things don't need explanations.

It had been almost seven years since Gabe's last appearance, and I figured he felt like he was due for a visit.

With the tags strung around my neck, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and left the house.

The car felt like it was on autopilot, like it knew exactly where I needed to go. Less than ten minutes later, I was parked in front of St. Christopher's.

Inside the church, the memorial candles were blazing away. I put a few dollars in the collection jar and lit one for Gabe.

Then I sat. I sat in the last pew and closed my eyes and tried to feel something, anything, that would tell me what I needed to do about Jules. When that didn't work, I pulled the kneeler down, kneeled on the cushioned bar, and rested my head in my hands. It got to the point where I didn't even know what I was praying for anymore: guidance? insight? peace?

My head wasn't feeling any clearer, and I was beginning to think I misjudged what I'd needed when I felt a hand on right shoulder.

"Can I join you, son?"