Our last goodbye
Emma. He remembered her kindness. Her eyes. He remembered more eyes. All on him. Before the last moments with his family, after when there was food and booze. He had watched Charlie talking to some tall dark haired guy. People were watching. Whispers.
He had sat there, more tears. This time silent ones as Miles had set next to him. The bench hard and cold. Charlie close. She was older, or maybe he just seen her in a different light now he was by her side.
Ben. Rachel. His old teachers, his old friends. As he had not been able to speak. He felt fucking pathetic for it, when Miles had to step in and his strong pat on his shoulder had kept him from tuning out completely. Ben had spoken. Balanced beautiful words. Charlie had stood close. Rachel had nodded at him. Miles had never left his side.
It had been their last goodbye.
Until he could not take it anymore. He slipped away. After seeing Emma, after seeing Charlie, slightly younger but whos hair he caught in the wind, as an image of still things that were moving around him, like they did not concern him, when she was talking to the son of Neville. Of course she was. All tallness. His eyes went inside. To the pictures of his family. Smiling in frames. He almost punched the frames down. Not going through with it because of their smiles. He did not want to look at their pictures.
He wanted his family back.
And now he is here. Sitting on the ground, the scent of grass close. The night covering over his head.
He is not supposed to be out here. He does not give a fuck. If someone is going to give him one more well meant hug he will deck them.
The bottle of whiskey on the ground between jeans clad legs. He had let his father's Daniels burn through him. His face endless wet.
He had replaced the stuff he had been wearing earlier for jeans and a jacket. He would burn the damn stuff if that meant never ever having to remember the day. This, his own jeans and shirt, was what had to do. Not that it mattered.
The eyes on the swelling of dirt and earth before him. Flowers on top of dark earth that felt so out of place. He knew they were there. His mom. His dad. His sisters. And that thought, it drove him to his knees.
It had driven him to his father's closet as he took his father's handgun. He had cocked the weapon, closed the door and had walked out silently. Slipped away.
He was here. The one left. But he could not be here.
Miles had been looking for him. He had yelled at Charlie towards the house he was going. He sits behind the wheel as he thinks back through the hours.
Both Bass and him, without words, putting on their suits in the room together. Charlie who walks over to adjust his tie, the thing something he really hated. Her slender fingers on the knot as he wonders how the hell she had grown up so fast. She is wearing a simple black dress. Rachel and Ben are downstairs, as are close friends waiting for them. He watches Charlie move over to Bass, helping him with the sleeve of his suit. Bass fingers are trembling. Her fingers lace with his as she stands against his tall arm.
Somehow she is a link between both men, caressing them both, giving the other what they can't give the other.
The people that are waiting for them. The people that are there when they walk the last part of the road with the people they have loved and now have to give back.
Booze and Ben waiting at the end of it all as Miles unties his tie a bit, with a frustrated outtake of breath.
'Well, that feels better.' His sarcasm filling the air, an armor on this day of endless jabs.
Aaron Pitmann, or he thinks that is his name, is talking with Rachel. Gail's uncle was a professor at his old University and the guy is here to pay his respects. He is also an old friend of Rachel and Ben.
He watches Bass with Emma, who talks to him for a moment. A hug, Bass eyes filled with tears. Then he watches hands being shaken as other people corner Bas, as he and Ben share whiskey silently, even how much looks Rachel throws them for drinking so much. He always figured Ben needed to grow a pair with her around.
Charlie walks towards them, her own glass in hand. She is a Matheson, a drink needs to be in her hand on this day after all. Ben puts his away.
'Come here, sweetheart,' Ben touches her gently, as he embraces his daughter.
Charlie smiles, taking in the scent of her dad. She looks at Miles. They are so much alike. They are both a part of her home.
'Have I told you how proud I am of looking out for everyone?' Ben talks closely to her ear, covered by blond locks he knows by heart. He has caressed them ever since she was four and lay in her bed, trusting eyes and waiting for a bed time story.
'That you are looking out for Bass?' His deep eyes look for hers. Ben admires her, so very much. In the years before Danny died, Rachel was so lost in her own world. In Danny. But his girl, he has always seen her, always seen her for the strength she is. No matter how she wants to take the world by storm, he will protect her. And on this day, he needs her close as he moves her against him today. She needs it too.
Miles looks at the ground as he sees something at the other side of the small restaurant. He looks at Ben and Charlie as he curses something.
Bass. He needs to get back to Bass.
He looks at the road again. It is dark now. People have gone home. And Bass was not there. Rachel, Charlie and Ben had looked through the house. The garden. The town square.
But as Miles rides, he knows all of a sudden where his friend, the man in his life since he can remember, is as he pushes his foot down deeper speeding up the car.
The sight of Bass sitting on the grass in the light of his car's headlight is almost driving him to the ground himself. He is crying with a wild freedom that he is misery waiting to go wrong. He can sense it.
'Been driving around to look at for you Bass.'
He sits down on the slight curve of the ground. The memories engraved around them close, too close as a tall willow tree is standing to their right.
The weight of the large square bottle of whiskey resting and playing in his hand. His elbow on his raised knee, his shoe in the dirt.
'One freaking moment and they all left me, Miles.'
The sobbing intensifies as Miles does not know what to do. How the hell to make this better.
'And here I am, being the one left.'
Bass pulls his hand through his hair.
'Isn't that one fucking joke.'
'You are not the only one, Bass.'
Bass looks at Miles.
'You have me.'
Bass finds a way to laugh through his tears at this sudden honest and close to sarcasm remark from Miles. Only Miles is not being sarcastic. And they both know it. Miles never was the one who told he loved him.
But here, now, Miles made a promise. A promise Bass will hold onto even when the feeling of that makes him feel vulnerable already.
'Give it to me Bass.' Miles does not look at him, as he sits next to him.
Bass slowly moves, the gun going from his hand to Miles hand.
Miles releases the gun, William's gun, onto the ground gently. Now his hand is free to move over to Bass, his hand going over his shoulder, as Bass puts his fingers over his eyes, touching tears, touching skin as Miles touches him.
Charlie stands before Miles' house as both men walk towards her. Bass, a little smaller as Miles, walking next to his step. And at the front door, her uncle stops. He pulls her in for a hug . She reaches out for Bass, as she pulls him close.
Three people, share a night, as Miles pulls them both close. Charlie leans into her uncle, as it is Bass chest that encircles her. Her hand now on his hip, the shirt has moved up a bit and it lands without truly aiming on soft warm skin. She does not let go.
The inside of the house of Miles's parents, that still is his property is cold and dark. Miles walks Bass to the spare room. Bass let's Miles untie his boots and shrug him out of his pants..
Miles puts a blanket over him. It is dark. The booze pulling him under. For one night, numbing the memories. Maybe it is nature's way of keeping you going. He is sure he hears both people leave the room.
But when Miles looks at Charlie, and she nods at him he is not going to be left behind.
He feels Charlie's hand on the strip of tender flesh right under his shirt, it is settling and comforting, before he falls asleep under the scent of blankets he knows all his life.
Charlie falls asleep, or maybe she doesn't. She knows he has. She slowly moves away from the bed as she walks downstairs, thirsty.
As she heads for a glass she sees him. Miles is in his clothing, his dark hair wildly around his forehead. His tall frame in the corner of a couch, he is laying with his back on the couch. Older looking making hurt on his face. The bottle not far. She walks over as she grabs a blanket from the couch, the material soft in her hands.
It is cold.
Charlie coves Miles with blanket in dark living room. Moving a strand of hair away from his forehead. She looks at him.
She lets Miles sleep as she fills her glass. She is sipping the water. The cold water against her lips. As she watches her uncle, the scent of her father's touch still around her, as she wonders how much grieve the roof of this house can hold.
Grieve for family.
Grieve for a brother.
Grieve for all things that change.
She drinks. She walks over to the patio doors. The curtains are opens. The birds are starting their song. The light is about to change as a new day is here.
She walks back to Bass. She wants to be there when he wakes up as her weight presses into the small mattress even more and Bass turns her way and she lets him find the nook of her body with his.
'Charlie,' he mumbles his voice lowly from sleep and crying.
'I'm here.' She says softly as he lays against her chest and Bass can feel her chest as she holds him.
She looks out for the two men that have been looking out for her her whole life.
I read your reviews , and I know this is a hard story. From this point in the story we will move forward, with more things to come! There will about 6 chapters written after this. Thank you for your feedback and thoughts ! I love hearing from you, especially with such a difficult story. They mean so much. Love from Love