Murray
Age Nineteen
My granddad was buried in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants. No one had batted an eye at his viewing, probably because Charlie Murray had worn that exact outfit every day for the last forty-odd years. His friends probably wouldn’t have recognized him had he been laid out in a suit—not that he owned one.
He’d lived on his own terms, as eccentric as he cared to be, flouting convention and living out loud. He beat cancer twice over his lifetime, but the third time, it came back swinging. There was no beating it, and rather than face down months of painful treatment followed by a slow, undignified death, Charlie chose to die on his own terms.
Four nights ago, with my dad and me by his side, he took a week’s worth of pills, laid down in his bed, told us a few jokes, then went to sleep for the final time.
Being there when he took his last breath didn’t help much. Not when he’d been a second father to me. Losing him had felt like a whole section of my ribs had been removed. I’d live, but I’d forever feel the absence of his support and protection.
Like any fine Irishman, Charlie requested a wake in his honor, and we’d thrown a hell of a party. All his Army buddies who’d known him as “Red” had flown in from all over to pay their respects. Each of his ex-girlfriends had shown up and cried their hearts out for the big cad. His friends from his job at Trader Joe’s had stopped by too. There were dudes my age crying over my grandpa, telling my dad and me how much they’d miss him.
I got through it all, wishing I could be anywhere else. I knew what a good guy my grandpa was. He wasmygood guy. The one who’d dropped everything and moved in with me and my dad when my mom decided she didn’t want to be a parent anymore. He’d taught me that being myself was more soul-filling than being popular or mainstream. He’d patched up busted lips and bloody noses and scraped knees from both bullies and my skateboard. He’d taught me to read music and play guitar.
He was everything, and now he was no more.
There were still a few people inside the house, including a lot of my friends, but I needed air and some quiet to get through the rest of the night. I took a seat by the pool, shadowed under a wide umbrella in the middle of the patio table. Tilting my head back, I released a long, mournful breath. The sound of water splashing had me sitting up straight, and there, on the other side of the pool, sat the girl of both my dreams and nightmares. I hadn’t noticed her there when I came out, though I’m not sure how.
“I don’t mean to intrude. I got hot inside and thought I’d dip my toes in the pool to cool off. I can go,” Yael said.
“Nah, cool girl. Stay.”
It wasn’t like she’d talk to me. She hadn’t for years now. Not after those first couple weeks of tentative friendship. As my bond with Mo cemented, mine with Yael fizzled until it fell away altogether. Once school started, she became wrapped up in the crowd who had made my life a living hell and never looked my way again.
It hadn’t been so bad, though. Not with Mo. He was the kind of guy everyone liked, and his new friends became mine. Hanging out in the band room became less of an escape and more of an actual hangout with real live people who weren’t my forty-year-old band instructor.
The sound of tinkling water pulled me from my memories. Yael had gotten up and made her way around the pool. Her long legs shone white in the stark pool light, her navy-blue sundress stopping at her knees. When she reached me, she bent at the waist and loosely wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pressing her smooth cheek to mine.
Beside my ear, she whispered so sweet, I forgot to breathe. “I haven’t gotten a chance to tell you how sorry I am. Charlie was so dear. He’ll be missed until the end of time.” Then she laid a gentle kiss on my cheekbone and stood again.
Swallowing down a thick coating of emotions, I nodded at the chair next to me. After hesitating for a moment, she pulled it out from under the table and turned it to face me before taking a seat. She pressed her knees against mine and leaned back in her chair, pushing her long hair off her shoulders.
Silence stretched between us as we watched each other. Her beauty had become so refined over the last three years, she had an untouchable quality about her. Right beneath her surface, though, was this chaotic mess of a girl who drank too much, slept with guys who’d never deserve her, laughed too loud, and got more angry than situations called for.
“I’m not used to seeing you sad, Alex. I hardly know what to do with myself.”
My nostrils flared with the effort of holding back a torrent of tears. “I’m not used to you being so caring. I’m a little afraid.”
Surprised, she grinned and huffed a little laugh. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t bite. I prefer my meat to be cheerful...it goes down smoother that way.”
Despite the deep, deep well of sadness I’d fallen into, I threw my head back and laughed. I’d been hugged and comforted a thousand times over the last few days, but leave it to Yael Aronson to be the one to shed light on all my darkness.
“Oh, jeez. That was probably completely inappropriate.” She nudged my shin with her toes. “But you laughing on this terrible day is my new favorite thing.”
Wiping the moisture from my eyes, I grinned at her. “Charlie always appreciated the hell out of irreverence. He’s probably cackling up in Heaven with a beer in one hand and a hot angel in the other.”
“Two hot angels, at least.”
Her foot rested on mine, and that small connection she was probably entirely unaware of, got my heart hammering. I’d been trying to shake my attraction—no…lust—no…that wasn’t the right word either—deep, unending longing for Yael for more than three years now. We weren’t friends. We barely spoke, yet here I was, still sprung and stupid over her, holding out hope something would shift between us and our time would happen.
“How’s college?” I asked.
She bit her lip, one shoulder lifting. “It’s okay. I’ve made a nice little group of friends and classes are interesting. I feel at home in New York, so I’m not often homesick. Although, I do miss my brother.” She shook her head. “He’s on my terrible-no-good-very-bad-shit list today, so I doubt I’ll miss him anymore.”
“What’d he do?”
Her foot moved, slowly rubbing against my ankle until she’d breached the hem of my pants and her bare skin touched mine. Again, I doubted she even realized what she was doing, but this would haunt me for a good six months.