Alex has been looking for a sign from the universe. A sign to tell him that he needs to keep fighting. To live on for his brother who died in a tragic car accident.
When Alex stumbles across a man in town wearing a blindfold, holding a sign that say...
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I've never had to lift so many boxes up so many flights of stairs in my life. But I know it will be worth it in the end, even if my decision seems crazy. I watch my dad dump down a box of kitchen appliances onto the counter, he turns to me and runs a hand through his greying hair.
He studies me for a long few moments. Since Liam died, he's aged a fair bit but he still has that caring and lovable expression as always.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks, leaning against the fridge.
Then his arms fold across his chest and he tilts his head in my direction. He's really grilling deep to make sure that I don't make a mistake in what I want but I know it's right for me. It already feels better being here rather than at home.
"I want to be closer to him, know more about him and the things he did," I admit as I take a step closer. "I can't do that if I'm stuck in London and my life is going nowhere. I want to be in the place he lived, the place he changed. I want to feel as close to him as possible."
My father's expression crumbles into something of adoration but then it shifts to a look of concern. "I understand that, Alex. I do. But We're both mourning for him. If this isn't healthy for you, then you need to come back home."
I nibble on my bottom lip and inhale, standing a little bit taller. "You have Natasha now, I need to do this for myself. Meet new people, finally use my degree to find a culinary job that I really love. I know Liam would be proud and that's what is keeping me going. He loved this town and I know I will too. It will help me heal dad, I can promise you that."
He sighs and pushes up from the fridge, finally dropping his hands. Then when he stops directly in front of me, he pulls me into a warm and comforting hug. Neither of us say anything but I know he's on the verge of tears.
Earlier he promised me he wouldn't cry but now I can feel the pressure in my chest, water building up behind my eyes. He pats my back and then breathes slowly. "I am so proud of you, son," he mumbles into my shoulder, squeezing me tighter. "Whatever you do, I'll always be proud."
A single tear rolls down my cheek. "I love you, dad."
"I love you too, Alex."
We both pull back and notice our cheeks are stained with tears. Then at the same time we crack a laugh and push them away to try and ignore them. "Fuck," he curses. "I knew I'd cry."
"I could have told you that," I say playfully and he pretends to bump my arm. "But I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt."
My father's laughter fills the air again and I feel warmth in my heart. Even though I won't be living at home anymore, we'll always be close. It's not like I can never go home, it's only a few hours from here and the trains are always efficient and quick.
I'll never be far and ready to visit as much as I can. My dad knows that.
"Right," he pats my shoulder. "I should probably head off. I've got that big presentation tomorrow and I've left Natasha to look after our neighbour's dog. It's all going off today."
