Page 20 of Range
“What’s next?” I pushed out.
I understood where we were in our journey. That didn’t make me hate it any less. I wanted us together again. As a family. Everyone. Even Richie, but he was no longer here with us.
“Range–”
“I know you, Teddy. You’re here because there’s something next. What is it?”
“You’ll know next Friday. Visitation information will be handled. I need you to clean up nicely.”
“Legal?”
“The works.”
I nodded as I exhaled, releasing a heavy breath. I reached the red light just as my anxiety started to peak. Closing my eyes briefly, I massaged my temple.
“Give me the na–”
My request was cut short by the slamming of my car door. Teddy completely disregarded the soft shut mechanism at play. His dramatics were gutting. I flinched, unable to turn away from the steering wheel. Seeing him leave was as painful as his appearance.
My nostrils widened with emotion. I gnawed on my bottom lip and pressed the gas pedal, resuming the motion of my car.
Asshole.
Though my sisters often forced me to recant, most times I truly believed there wasn’t a human on earth I loved more than Chemistry Childers. The love I harbored for my brother, mentor, and friend was unconditional. And, it could be because he had conditions. Morals. Beliefs. Standards. Core values that would never force me to love him any less.
He was the glue that held our family together, even when we wanted to fall apart. He was a reminder that feelings weren’t forever. He remained poised through everything. Through all things.
His scent lingered, comforting the aches of his absence. I continued down the road, hoping his aroma never settled. But, as if that small request was too much to ask, the potency of nature’s garden seeped through my vents and washed away nearly every trace of Teddy.
Another light caught me. I unbuckled my seatbelt and elongated my body, stretching my right hand behind me. I felt around the seat until my fingers grazed the small, almost unnoticeable glass bottle.
He hadn’t forgotten.
He never forgot.
My position on the spectrum never slipped his mind. Not since my diagnosis. Not since his initial denial. And, not since his eventual acceptance.
I spritzed the cologne from the 10ml bottle. Once again, his scent filled the air, helping me collect my thoughts. Gather my emotions. Find my way again.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
I was home in what felt like the blink of an eye. My shoes slid off with ease. I lowered my feet into the slippers next to the door. In the console near the garage entry, I opened the drawer and placed Chemistry’s cologne next to the graveyard of samples he’d given me since I learned of my condition at the late age of twenty. They were organized by the day of his visit. Three numbers were taped to each bottle. No details. No names. Just numbers. But I knew what each of them meant.
I peered at the second drawer. My heart wouldn’t allow me to open it. Richie’s aroma was too heavy to bear. That was a load I was still trying my hardest not to let break me down.
Gym.
I forced myself to find comfort. My deflection was where my love for the gym began. My weirdly wired brain was where my love for the gym blossomed.
I shed my clothes one piece at a time as I entered my bedroom, but didn’t allow any of them to touch the floor. Instead, I folded them neatly and stacked them in the laundry basket that would be emptied at the end of the week.
