Chapter 3

"Find yourself running for the door

come and take me home

lead me to your door

take me where u are.

lead me to your door "

--Dishwalla (Home)

The next morning, I awoke remembering that Oliver had given me a bag last night. Without getting up from my bed, I reached for the bag which was right next to the bed on the floor. Opening it us, I found a simple black shirt with the words Velvet Knights printed on the front in a big font. I took out the shirt from the bag, and held it in my arms. Then, I noticed a note left in the bag. I took it out and read:

"Hey, Jody. I was going to get you something better than this shirt, but I realized my parents didn't give me much money on the trip. Trust me; this is better than what I gave to my own parents."

I smiled. I finally got the energy to get up, so I walked into the bathroom and took a shower. For some reason, I actually sang in the shower. Really loud and out of tune. I expected so much more being a music student.

I got out of the shower and noticed a loud engine across the street. I looked out from the living room window and saw a grey moving truck backing up into the parking way to the door of the garage. That house had been on sale since a long time ago. I'm glad there'll be occupants now living there.

I went into the kitchen and found a note on the counter. It was from my mother saying, "I'm out with friends. I'll be back around five with food." Now, my mother never had time off. And when she did, I wanted her to go out and have fun. We rarely had time for each other, but that was how we lived now.

I checked the answering machine and had one missed call. I let it run for awhile. "Hello, we are unable to answer your call. Please leave your name, number, and message after the tone. Beep!" It was quiet for awhile, but I finally heard someone's voice. "Mom? Jody? It's Greg. I was just wondering what's going on. I haven't spoken to either of you since…" There was a long pause and a sigh. "…since the funeral. I was just letting you know I'm stopping bye at around three. Alright, I will see you. Bye."

Greg, my brother, had a reputation of disappearing. He'd be here for a second and be gone the other. He went to a college about two hours from where I live. He hated living with us, and I remember he had told me that he had wanted to leave as soon as he graduated. True to his word, he did.

Around noon, I got my French horn out and began to practice the piece Mr. Shuster had chosen for me. I loved to just mess around on my instrument, popping some high notes, or doing scales with straight sixteenths. After I was warmed up, I put my horn down, paced around my room buzzing my chops. I walked over to my dresser and found a picture of my family. That picture was taken a long time ago, probably when I was in sixth grade. My mom and my brother stood together and my dad was holding me. There were festive lights in the background and confirmed that it was happy times. I gave a sigh and went back to my French.

I played for about three hours. I was going to go on with my practice, but I heard the doorbell ring. Carefully setting down my horn, I ran to the door and opened it up. On the other side stood my tall, brown-haired, brother.

"Jo!" he exclaimed, giving me a hug. "How are you?" I led him inside into the living room and he set his stuff on the couch.

"Why are you here, Greg?" I asked with full curiosity. "You haven't been here and why do you decide to show up now?"

He jumped onto the couch without answering. He let himself turn on the television and laid back. "How's school going?"

I was getting irritated at him, so I just left into the kitchen and grabbed the house phone. I dialed my mom's number, hoping she'd pick up. Unfortunately, there was no answer on the other line. I called Irene this time, knowing she would pick up. Her mom picked up though.

"Ms. Wasson, hi. Can I please talk to Irene?" I asked.

"Yes. One moment." A couple seconds later, she was on the other line. "Jody? What's up?"

"Hey, do you maybe want to go hang out today? I really don't want to be home right now, so I was just wondering."

"Yeah! Let me ask mi Madre." There was a couple seconds of silence. "She said yeah. I'll walk over to your house right now. See you in a bit." The line went dead. The great thing about having your best friend living two blocks down was that she could come over anytime she or I wanted.

Before she arrived, I put my French horn away in her case. Irene and I ended up going to Starbucks for awhile. When we drank our beverages, Irene brought up a question. "So, why the sudden urge to leave the house?"

I took a sip of my Mocha Latte, and answered, "My brother came for no apparent reason. I asked him why, and all he did was watch TV!"

"Oh Jo, maybe he just misses you and your mom. Maybe it's a friendly visit or something like that."

"Well, I hope so. I can't deal with anymore drama dealing with him. It makes me angry and stressed. And I can't be stressed! School hasn't started yet!"

"Speaking of school, how's Oliver doing?" What? There was absolutely no connected between those two at all.

"How did you get Oliver out of 'speaking of school'?" I asked. "There's no connection!" I moved around in my chair finding another comfortable position.

"Has he come back from tour?"

"Maybe. Why do want to know?"

"I have my reasons." We battled with our eyes.

Irene would have to figure it out sometime, might as well be now, I figured. "He came back yesterday." I watched as Irene sat at the edge of her seat. "We talked about stuff last night. And then he left."

"That's it?" Irene shouted again.

"There might've something else that happened, but I'm not too sure myself if it really happened."

"What happened?" she urged.

"There might've been a kiss." I felt my cheeks burning, while Irene laughed with excitement.

Then, my cell rang. It was flashing my mother's number on the screen. "Mom?"

"When did your brother get in?" she asked.

"Around three. I tried calling you about it, but you didn't pick up. Do you know why he's back?"

"No, honey. I haven't asked yet, he's asleep on the couch. Don't be out too late, okay?"

"Yes Mom. Bye."

Later that night, I walked into my house finding absolute silence. It felt as if the world was still and the time did not tick on. Then, a sudden crash came from the kitchen. I ran into there with no hesitation to see what had happened. I found my brother on the ground, cleaning up the shattered glass. I bent down to help him and saw his eyes were watery.

"Greg, what's wrong?" I asked. I watched him pick up glass in his bare hands and it cutting into his skin. I grabbed his hands, letting the glass fall back on the floor. "What's going on?"

"It's all my fault." He let his back rest on the wall. I watched him cry as I helped his bloody hands. "I was on the phone with him when it happened."

"What are you talking about?" He spoke so many things, but I could not accumulate what was being said.

"I'm talking about Dad, Jo. We were on the phone, fighting. He was driving to your concert. I don't even know what we were fighting about. I was too stubborn to even listen anymore, so I hung up. And then it happened."

I found myself tearing up, also. "Greg, it's not your fault. It was just bad luck, you know. It could've happened to any of us."

"I never apologized to him. And this had been a burden in me, Jo, for the longest time. That's why I came back. I need him to forgive me."

"We can go to the cemetery tomorrow, okay? Right now, you need to go to sleep. I'll finish cleaning up in here. You can sleep in my room." He did as he was told, and I did finish cleaning the glass. My mom arrived home an hour later and wondered what had happened. I explained everything and she had a pity smile on her face. She went upstairs into my room and talked to Greg while I slept on the couch that night.

The next morning, I found Greg sitting on my legs. I tried kicking him off, but he wouldn't move. Instead, he pulled me out of bed (or the couch), and told me to go get dressed. I did what I was told. I peeled out of my clothes and got a new change, I washed my face, ate breakfast, and in a matter of no time, I was sitting in the passenger seat of my brother's car.

We drove to the end of the road, finding the cemetery there. We parked and nervously walked unto the grass. I felt my heart beating slower and slower, and the time seemed to stop as I walked closer to my father's tombstone. I watched my brother fall to his knees and talk to the rock. The wind blew stronger and I felt like it was talking to me. "Thank you for bringing him to me," the wind said.

I didn't do anything. I didn't bring my brother to my father. He came on his own terms and his own time. I didn't deserve to get any credit at all. This made me so confused for the rest of the day.