the first one • j. hughes

23

Rehearsal dinners are kind of boring. Especially when you're in such high demand. Seriously, what is it about being the sister of the bride that makes so many real adults want to talk to you? I've talked to pretty much every one of my female relatives here and Brosie's. Penn's probably had to talk to three people outside of our kid group at the most.

"You are your mother's twin, I swear." I'm trapped with Brosie's godmother. The one I was warned about. She grabs you when you're distracted and then you're stuck.

"I get that all the time," I say with my plastered-on smile.

I can literally see where Penn, Jack, Quinn, and Luke are standing in a little half-circle over this lady's shoulder. Muriel? Is her name Muriel? No. I was watching Courage the Cowardly Dog this morning. That's Muriel. This is Miriam.

"You know, my son looks exactly like his dad but you'd swear his personality was copied straight from me," she says. My smile can't even stay on my face in the slightest. "I'm sure you're exactly like your father. Such a shame he can't be here today."

He's not here. He can't be here. I pinch the bridge of my nose. Dad can't be here. He won't be at mine. He won't be at Penn's. He won't be anywhere. Not in some urn or necklace or spiritually at some stupid piece of stone. He's nowhere. He's gone.

I fumble for my words. Grasp for some kind of stability in my empty cup. "I have to go get some more water."

"Oh, I'll join—"

"No, that's okay," I state. And turn on my heel and head in the opposite direction of the bar.

He can't be here. He can't be here. He's not here. All I can feel is that strong absence. I used to be able to always feel my dad's presence at events. No matter where he was in the room, I knew exactly where to turn and see him. I don't know how to deal without it.

Holly scans my face as I walk right up to her. "What's going on?"

"Can we talk?" I glance at Aunt Liz quickly. "Alone?"

"I'll leave you girls to it," she says in that thick Irish accent of hers. Then she's taking my empty glass and walks away.

"What's wrong, Ken?" Holly asks.

There's no sugarcoating it so I spit it out, "Is it too early for me to leave? Would you be pissed as all hell if I dipped right now?"

"You feel it too?" Her words don't shake like mine.

"It's so much," I mumble. "But I don't want to ruin anything for you. I won't. Tell me to fuck off and I'll go right back to socializing and—"

Her eyes are exactly like Dad's. It crushes me how softly she's looking at me. "Kenny honey, go. Later tonight, I'll get you and Penn and we'll all talk about it. And I get to leave your future rehearsal dinner when I get bored, 'kay?"

"Thank you." I breathe the words out more than I say them. She nods and I yet again turn on my heel to escape.

I sweep the room. Over to the guys. Jack catches my eye. Furrowing his brows and doing that little nod thing guys do. My eyes shoot over to the exit then back to him in an instant. He copies, door and back to me. He sets his cup down, saying something before Luke hands him my purse and Jack heads for the door.

When I get there, he's holding the door and my purse out for me. "Let's get out of here."

* * * * *

"Let's see," I whisper, walking along the back of the gas station's store. The ice cream freezers.

The first chunk of our drive has been nothing but music blasting and singing along. I know I'm going to have to talk about it. I'd rather have it be with ice cream than without ice cream. Ooh, Dibs sound good.

"Prez." Jack stands at the end of the aisle made of the chip shelf and freezers. "You want to get Icees?"

"I was thinking ice cream," I say, motioning to the ice cream I was literally looking at.

He nods. "Get some we can share."

"Dibs?"

"On me? I'm flattered."

"The ice cream," I correct.

"Sure," he says sounding extra sarcastic. Then clears his throat. "No, seriously. Sure. Cherry and Coke Icee?"

"More cherry than Coke."

"You got it."

* * * * *

"Ah shit," I mumble. "There's an odd number."

Jack pops some chips into his and is lucky I've grown so immune to boys being gross as he decides to talk with the chips in his mouth. "You can have the spare if you tell me why we left."

"Take a wild guess."

"A wild one?" He pretends to think, looking up at the stars. "I've got a regular one but if you need a wild—"

"I will kick you off this truck bed and drive off," I say.

"We went maybe two miles down the road from the store, I think I'll be okay."

I shrug and turn my focus on our makeshift picnic. This is the exact reason I always keep a blanket in the truck at all times. Lay it out on the bed, get some snacks, and boom! you've got yourself a picnic. There's nothing better than a picnic. I used to beg Mom and Dad to let me bring a blanket outside and eat it on it. Even in the snow.

"Listen," Jack says. "I get not everyone heals and grieves the same and all that but... I don't think you can keep skipping out on events once it hits you he doesn't get to see it. It sucks. It fucking blows. But, eventually, you've got to change it around. What was it that he said? The thing about—"

"You don't have to sprint the marathon but you have to at least move," I finish.

He nods. "You're not moving."

"I'm trying."

"Do or do not. There is no—"

I gasp and throw one of the Dibs at him. Of course, he catches it before it can fall and pops it into his mouth. I shake my head to try and keep my laugh in. "Don't you dare quote Yoda while trying to comfort me."

"Give off light or darkness, Padawan. Be a candle, or the night." He sighs really dramatically. "You're being the night when you act like Jason would excuse it. The funeral? Sure. Your first birthday party after it all? Yeah, maybe. Maybe some other things. But still? This?"

"I know," I whisper.

Jack offers me the Icee. "You can do anything. I love you and you can do anything."

"Yeah." The cold of the cup bites into my hand, keeping me from doing anything. Instead of fully admitting what I want to do, what I want to confess, I smile and say, "I love you too. More than you can imagine."