I Wish I Were (boyxboy)

6

I woke up at nine AM to a knock on my door.

"Charlie, you need to get up or Dad's gonna get suspicious."

All I could do was moan as I rolled over, covering my head with my blanket. I just wanted to sleep the day away and forget everything that happened last night. But my wishes weren't answered as my blanket was ripped away from me.

I bristled against the cold air as I sat bolt upright, glaring at my brother Alex standing in the middle of my room. He laughed as he tossed the blanket at me.

"Get up. And don't act hungover."

I rubbed at my tired eyes. "I'm not hungover," I muttered. But when I opened my eyes, Alex was already gone.

I groaned and sat up, grabbing a shirt off the floor. After I slipped it on over my bare chest, I stood up and made my way to the kitchen. I didn't even bother looking in the mirror, already knowing I would look like death incarnate. I'd only slept four hours last night and my breath still tasted vaguely of vomit.

When I got to the kitchen, Alex was already sitting at the table, chewing on a piece of bacon while Dad scrambled a pan of eggs. I all but collapsed onto the chair next to Alex. He glanced at me and smiled, shaking his head.

"You look hungover," he sung under his breath.

I rolled my eyes and slouched farther down into the seat.

"So, Charlie, did you guys win last night?" Dad asked, glancing at me from over his shoulder.

I nodded. "Yeah." My words came out rough, so I cleared my throat before continuing. "By four points. It was a good game."

Alex nudged me with his elbow. "Did you score?"

"Yeah."

Dad grabbed the pan of eggs and set it down on the table. He passed a plate to me and set another at his own spot. Alex already had a plate of bacon.

"When you'd get home last night?" Dad asked, pinning me with his dark eyes so similar to mine.

"Around two, I think?"

Dad raised his eyebrows and I squirmed under his gaze.

"The guys went to Sasha's to celebrate, and we watched a movie. It wasn't anything... bad?" I was lying and I was a bad liar. Every sentence always came out as a question. The words always came out too fast. But Dad didn't seem to notice as he nodded.

"Did you have fun?"

I nodded as Alex snickered, covering his hand with his mouth. I elbowed him hard and his snicker turned into a cough.

Dad seemed satisfied with his interrogation and dug into the scrambled eggs.

I let out a breath and shoveled some eggs onto my plate. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I started eating and felt my stomach rumble. I hadn't eaten since before the basketball game and even then, I hadn't eaten much, too shaken up and nervous about the game.

When I was almost done eating, Alex stood up from the table, planting his hands on either side of his plate as he scooted his chair out. "I have to go to work."

Dad looked up at him, tilting his head. "You've gotta work today?"

Alex nodded. "Until three. I tried to get off."

"Alex—"

He just shook his head and grabbed his plate. "I'm sorry." He disappeared up the stairs, leaving silence in his wake.

Dad sighed, pushing his eggs around on his plate. "I guess it'll just be us then."

I nodded. "Guess so."

Dad stood up and gathered our plates from the table. "Get ready. We'll be leaving soon."

I nodded and stood up, running a hand through my messy hair as I headed to my room to change.

This was how every Saturday went, minus the part where Alex left. Dad cooking breakfast, normally easy things like eggs and bacon to hide the fact he would never be as good of a cook as Mom was. Alex and I putting on somewhat nice clothes. And then all three of us loading into the little Honda Civic. Dad driving first to the store to pick up a bouquet of flowers then to the cemetery.

It had been like this for almost a year now, ever since we buried Mom on a cold January day. I could still remember Alex and I dressed in our fancy black suits, making tracks in the snow with our dress shoes, as we carried the casket, carried Mom, to her final resting place.

I shuddered and tried to clear my thoughts, tried not to think about how it had been almost a year since it happened. I wondered how Dad would react to the anniversary, whether he'd be able to look me in the eye. After it happened, I rarely saw Dad, and when I did, he couldn't look at me or talk to me, even as he talked to Alex as if nothing had happened.

I shook my head, mentally apologizing to Dad like how I always used to, even as everyone told me it wasn't my fault.

As I was changing into jeans and a polo, my phone buzzed from atop my nightstand. I grabbed it and glanced at the screen. It was a text from Georgia.

Georgia: Are you feeling better? I saw you throw up but I was pissed at you so I just drove off. Haha, sorry about that.

I sighed, wishing I could just forget everything that happened last night, all of my dumb mistakes.

Charlie: Yeah, I'm fine.

I tossed the phone onto my bed, ignoring it as it vibrated against my sheets, no doubt another text from Georgia.

I buckled my belt and left the room, leaving my phone. Dad always hated if we had them when we went to the cemetery. Apparently, it was disrespectful.

Dad was sitting in his chair in the living room, keys in hand as he stared at a picture framed on the wall. I followed his gaze to a family portrait taken a few years ago. We were all smiling and happy, Dad's arms around Mom. I let out a breath, wondering as always why we kept so many pictures on the walls. All they ever seemed to do was bring pain to everyone, but I held my tongue.

"Dad, I'm ready," I said.

Dad jumped up. He quickly wiped at his misty eyes and offered me a small smile. It was almost as if I'd walked in on a scene I had no business looking at.

Together, we walked out into the garage. We got into the small car, and for once, I sat in the front seat, a place always reserved for Alex since he was the oldest.

"What do you think she'd like today?" Dad asked as he backed out onto the street.

I pondered his question for a second, remembering that last week we bought a bouquet with yellow and orange carnations. "We haven't done roses lately, have we?" I asked, glancing at Dad.

He shook his head. "We have not."

So when we got to the store, we went straight to the flowers and picked out a bouquet of bright, red roses.

"What were her favorite flowers?" I asked Dad as we waited in line to checkout.

Dad sighed, eyes shifting to the flowers in my hand. "She really liked orchids. When we first got married, I got her a potted one and we kept it alive for years before it finally died. But I never really got her flowers."

I nodded. I could probably count on one hand the amount of times I'd seen a vase on the table with flowers. But now that she was gone, she always had flowers. She never got them in life, but she could certainly enjoy them now, I guess.

"I wish I had," Dad murmured so quietly I almost didn't hear him.

I wanted to reach out to comfort him, but I wasn't Alex. There was a jagged and splintered canyon between us, and I couldn't bridge the gap.