"How I wish, how I wish you were here

We're just two lost souls

Swimming in a fish bowl

Year after year

Running over the same old ground

And how we found

The same old fears

Wish you were here"

-David Gilmour and Roger Waters-

Thanks Paige and Sherry for being so wonderful!

EPOV:

The ringing of the phone agitates me to no fucking end. It's such a daunting sound, especially when you want to avoid the truth that is sure to be found as soon as the line opens. It took me all morning to get the courage to call. I thought my anger would surely compel me to call sooner, but my anger went hand and hand with the fear of knowing the truth. What if my father wasn't the man I thought he was? He was the only person I could rely on growing up; the one person I thought was fucking trustworthy. I don't feel as though I'm jumping to conclusions, because deep down I feel like something is definitely wrong. The way he looked at her...like a flame he has been longing to see...what is that shit? Although my relationship with my mom has never been loving, I wouldn't wish this for her.

Before the call goes to voicemail again, Dad finally picks up. It's weird hearing his voice now, with all of these negative thoughts filling my head. My stomach turns and it takes me a moment to find my words. As odd as it sounds, I feel sort of betrayed.

"Edward?"

"Hey, Dad." My voice sounds foreign to me. What the fuck can I say? "Hey, dad. I saw you with some woman and I was wondering what the fuck that was about?"

"Is something wrong, son?"

"I was just wondering if we could meetup somewhere? I need to talk to you."

He pauses for a moment. I wonder if he is taken aback by how serious I sound.

"Is everything alright with you and Charlie?" He asks, sounding worried and unsure.

I wish something was wrong with me. I'd rather have it be that than be faced with this shit. This is completely out of my control...and that makes me so uncomfortable.

"We're fine, dad. I just need to talk to you about something else."

"That's fine." He sounds hesitant. "Does tomorrow night work?"

"Tomorrow is good."

"Should I make a reservation for more than just us?" Dad trails off.

"No, I think we need to have this conversation alone."

Dad is silent, and I wonder what he is thinking this conversation will be about. I don't usually like to talk about heavy shit, and I rarely like to discuss things with him without him dragging it out of me, so I know he thinks that something is up. He says an awkward goodbye, ending our conversation. I throw myself against the hot, leather seat of my car with a huff. Running my hands through my hair and yanking on it, I try to release my pent-up tension. The smell of dirt and nicotine fills the air around the construction site and right now there's nothing I want more than a Marlboro 27. I can practically taste the tobacco and chemicals on my lips. I glance at the clock on my dash and see I still have a half-hour left of my break. I turn the key in my ignition and my car roars to life, rattling a bit before it settles into a soft purr. I decide on picking up a coffee, which has become my good friend since kicking my smoking habit to the curb.

The shop isn't too busy, thankfully. I order a medium iced espresso and try to get my agitation under control. It doesn't take me too long to notice him as I wait for my drink. Of course, he'd appear out of fucking thin air, after I'd given up looking for him. We make eye contact, and this time he doesn't run away. He gives me a small smile and closes his laptop, as if asking me to join him. I grab my drink from the counter and saunter over, still astounded that he is here.

"Paul," I greet him, unsure how to act around him after our last encounter.

I take a seat across from him and find that he isn't skittish about me talking to him. Perhaps he was just nervous about the whole AA thing. Hell, I know I was nervous, so I can understand how shitty it would be to run into a friend when you want to remain anonymous.

"Hey, man," he calmly says.

Shit, it must have been AA, because now he is back to normal. We fall into a casual conversation about work, with our last encounter being a giant elephant in the room. I wait for him to bring it up, believing it would be less awkward if he did it, since he was the one who ran from me. As the minutes tick by and he is remaining silent on the subject, I decide to just ask. I've never been good about tiptoeing around stuff. I usually just blurt stuff out without an ounce of grace or skill.

"Why didn't you talk to me the last time we ran into each other? I'm new to AA, so I might not know exactly how this shit works, but I wasn't going to press you about anything. I just wanted to talk. I don't know why you ran."

Paul's whole demeanor changes and he looks like he is really beating himself over what happened. His brows are drawn together in frustration and he runs his hands through his hair like it's a nervous habit. Finally, he gives me a small, friendly smile and he's back to the Paul I used to know.

"Sorry, man. I was honestly just nervous about you seeing me there. I didn't want it to fuck with your opinion of me. I shouldn't have run. I honestly don't know why I did. My body reacted before my brain could, I guess."

"It's fine," I say with a shrug of my shoulders. "I don't know why you'd think seeing you there would make me think less of you. I mean, you know that I've had a problem with drugs and alcohol in the past...so I obviously wouldn't judge you for that."

Paul gives me a sad smile, and looks as if he wanted to say more, but doesn't. It's getting late, and I know I have to get back to work soon. I quickly scribbled my number on a napkin and slide it across the table.

"Just in case you ever want to talk about it...or just talk in general. I'm here for you, man. We haven't really been friends since I left...but now that I'm back I want to change that. I have to be honest, when we first ran into each other, I was so short with you because you were a constant reminder of the past...but I know that Seth would have wanted us to be friends, now that he's gone."

Paul takes the number and slides it into his pocket. His face softens and he says, "Yea, man. I would like that."

We part ways on good terms this time. With all the shit that is going on, it's nice to have something positive come out of today. I want Paul as a friend, especially if he is struggling like I am. We can help each other; I know that's what my brother would have wanted. I can't shun everything from my life that reminds me of my brother. Seth was a loving guy and I know he would have wanted me to be happy. While any reminder of him is a hard pill to swallow, I know that if I'm going to keep my sanity, I'll have to learn to deal with things. Paul is a link to my past and the memories he conjures up are positive ones. They are memories of my time with Seth...and as painful as they fucking are, I don't want to forget them. God, I wish he were still here.

A/N: I love music and listen to my LPs while I write, so I thought it would be cool to start sharing song lyrics at the beginning of the chapters. Pink Floyd, well, they are obviously amazing.