Page 11 of The Blessing

Chapter 7

To Build a home

Seeing my old room stripped bare, takes my fucking breath away. As I packed up my things today, I felt like I was closing a door on a part of my life which I’ll never reopen. Fuck, all of my wounds are so fucking raw. I feel so exposed and torn the fuck opened. This was the room I grew up in, the room where Dean and I would watch movies into the early hours of the morning on a school night. Seeing it now—with the walls cleared of the many posters I had hung, and all the furniture gone—makes it look just like any old room. I say my last goodbyes as I pick up the lone box sitting in the room’s center. I close the door on my past and head down the hall. Approaching Dean’s room stops me in my tracks at his door, before I can make it to the stairs at the end of the hallway. My jaw clenches and I close my eyes for a moment, trying to will away the pain.

I know I’m not ready to see it, but I just can’t help myself. Before I can control my movements, I’m placing the box on the ground and opening the door to his room. I can barely breathe as I realize it’s just like he left it from the time he lived here after his college years. My parents haven’t touched it. His bedding is still mussed as if it were just yesterday that he slept there, and some of his old clothes are neatly stacked on top of his desk chair. I walk inside his room to take a closer look. It feels like him in here. I can smell his cologne as if my mother had just sprayed it all over the room. In all honesty, she could have. Dad told me she spent a few nights in here after my brother’s death. She slept in his bed and wept; nothing my dad did seemed to appease her. It was like that for the first few days, when the wounds caused by Dean’s death were still so incredibly fresh, but then her entire demeanor changed. My dad told me she went from being a mourning mother back to her normal, artificial self. Of course, he didn’t say the last part quite like that, but he didn’t have to. I know exactly how she can be.

I cross the room and sit on his bed and try to stifle the emotions that crash into me. I lie down and close my eyes, wishing our lives could’ve been different. He wasn’t supposed to die young. He never did anything to deserve it. I was the one who did everything wrong. I put myself in dangerous situations all of the time. I threw my life away and didn’t consider any sort of future because I never believed I would live long enough to have one. I was practically destined to die young and yet, here I am, still alive and well, while my brother is long gone. I sit up so quickly I experience a tinge of vertigo and tug on my hair, pulling at my roots and enjoying the pain. It distracts me long enough to pull myself together. I need to get going. Dad and Grey are downstairs with the movers and I want to get all settled into my apartment by night fall. I can’t sit around here and dwell on Dean all day. It isn’t healthy. It’s the first day of August; a brand-new month and a fresh start.

I get up and give the room one last glance. Before I can help myself, I begin to speak to an empty room. “Hey, Dean.” I pause as if waiting for his ghost to answer me. Fuck, I must look insane right now. “I’m trying my best with Grey. I just wish you were here, Brother.” I pause, trailing my hand along one of his bookshelves and sighing. “I promise I’ll always do my best. Although, I have no idea why you chose me to do this.” Silence answers me and I take another step toward the door. “Goodbye, Brother.”

Without looking back, I exit his bedroom and close the door behind me, picking up my box off the floor and heading to the staircase. Although my mind aches, I feel a sense of relief. I didn’t receive a bit of closure when he died. I wish I could’ve said goodbye to him… could have told him I loved him one final time. Dean and his wife were hit by a drunk driver on their way home from a date. The driver crashed into them and drove away, not caring at all about the lives he was destroying in the process. Cat died on impact, but my brother survived the crash and was airlifted to a hospital where he died on the operating table. My dad called me about twenty times that night. His voicemails were begging me to pick up the phone; he begged me to try to make it back home and to the hospital, but I didn’t pick up. I woke up the next morning, with a major hangover; and while lying next to a naked, nameless woman, I listened to his messages. When I finally made it to the hospital it was far too late. That night will always fucking haunt me.

That’s part of the reason I’m so adamant about making everyone proud. Especially my brother. If he can see me right now, I want him to see I’m doing everything I can to take care of his son. I’m doing everything I can to make up for not being there, righting the wrong I made so many weeks ago.

When I finally make it outside, I find a frantic Grey in my dad’s arms. “I think he got worried when he didn’t see you out here,” he says as he waits for me to load the last box onto the moving truck before handing Grey over to me.

“Hey, buddy. It’s okay. I’m here now,” I assure him as I hold him tightly against my chest. He nuzzles his face against my neck and his cries slowly begin to dissipate. “Sorry, Dad. It was sort of weird leaving my old room behind for good.” I hope I don’t have to move back here for any reason. I want to prove that I can be self-sufficient.

“We understand, Trevor. Are you ready to move into your new apartment?” Dad questions, in the voice he always uses when he’s trying to get me excited for something. I roll my eyes at him and grin before getting Grey settled into his car seat.

Moving may be difficult but moving with a baby is far worse. Grey demands my attention as I try to get our new apartment in order. Between Dad and me—along with the movers—we manage to get everything setup in record time. It doesn’t look perfect, but it’s mine. To celebrate, Dad orders dinner as soon as the movers leave. I sit down on my couch in my apartment with Grey in my arms and bask in the immense satisfaction that I feel. I used to hate the idea of having a simple life. The type of life that requires paying bills, going to work every day, and being a productive member of society. It all seemed so fucking monotonous to me. However, now the idea of living a simple, normal life is comforting. I never realized how jaded I was until my brother died. His death catapulted me back to reality.

While I was self-medicating and sleeping on random couches with random people beside me, I truly believed I was living some sort of passionate and artistic life. I thought I was above the sort of life society demanded. Truly, I was just a fool. I didn’t understand what true passion was. I thought I was happy, but I was genuinely empty inside. It wasn’t all bad, but I had nothing to live for. Now that I have Grey—he is my life. He’s the reason I do everything. He deserves a better life, and so do I.

“This is a nice place,” Dad comments after our food has arrived and we sit down to eat.

“Yeah, it looks a lot better now that it’s furnished,” I say with a proud smile. “Thanks for another TV by the way. I know my old one’s about to die.” With my CR-TV, my old flat-screen, and this brand new seventy-five-incher, I’ll be fucking set.

“Yeah, your television set from ten years ago wasn’t going to hold up much longer.”

Dad’s been more than generous. He’s given me some of his old furniture he stored down in the basement, as well as a ton of glassware, plates, and kitchen utensils, so Grey and I wouldn’t have to live off paper plates until I could afford something better. He’s supported me every step of the way and I don’t think I can thank him enough.

“Your mom wanted to be here, Trevor. It’s just she’d already planned on going to that party for the past few months now. I know she’s cross with me for not going with her.”

I nod in acceptance. I understand. Moving out isn’t the most important thing in the world and to her—it’s barely an accomplishment. I’m happy she’s not here. I don’t need her to rain on my fucking parade. I’m happy with myself and I’m proud enough for all of us. I don’t need her to come and make snide remarks about anything.

“It’s fine, Dad. I knew a day of moving wasn’t going to be something she’d be interested in.”

He gives me a knowing smile but doesn’t comment. After dinner we watch a game on my new television before he calls it a night.

“So, it’s cool if I drop Grey off around five tomorrow morning? I’ve got to be at work by five-thirty.”

“Of course, Trev. I’ll be up.”

Part of me doesn’t want my dad to leave. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m kind of fucking nervous. This is my first night alone with a baby and I’m afraid I’m going to mess something up and something bad will happen to him. All the horrible types of infant deaths I read about online flash through my mind as I watch my dad gets off the couch and head toward the door. It finally sinks in that I’ll be taking care of a baby alone and I’m fucking terrified.

“You’ll do fine, Trevor,” Dad says, easily reading my expression.

I run a hand nervously through my hair and kiss Grey’s forehead before answering, “Can I call you if I’ve got any issues?”

“Of course,” he says, pausing to look at me. “You’ll do great, son.”

I wish I could believe him. As soon as he’s gone, the apartment feels empty. If anything happens to Grey my parents are only twenty minutes away. Nothing is going to happen, Trev! Stop with all of the fucking negativity. I take a deep, shaky breath and look at Grey, who seems unperturbed by the whole thing.

“It’s just you and me, little man.”

He smiles at this and I carry him to his new nursery. I’m so proud of this room. I spent a good chunk of money on it because I wanted it to be perfect for him. He had a room at my brother’s place, of course, and then had a make-shift nursery with my parents’ house. He deserves a room all of his own again. A room he can grow up in. Maybe one day I could paint the walls for him, just like my dad did for me when I was a kid. I take him around the room and show him the bookcase I purchased, filled with all the kid’s books I managed to find on sale. I show him his new toy chest, filled with some of his old stuffed animals along with a few new ones I purchased for him. I show him the rocking chair my dad bought for me and his crib my mother bought for him before he was born.