Chapter 2

• Julia
• I knew this day was going to be tough. The last four days have been hell. But I was hoping that by the end of the day I’d feel something. Not relief, of course. That’s not the right emotion. But… I don’t know. Like I could take a breath again. Because there’s been a tightness in my chest since I got the news. Like I can’t inhale all the way and then, when I finally manage it, I can’t exhale either. I don’t know if that makes sense. I just know it hurts to breathe and my only goal right now is to learn to breathe again.
• But it’s not happening. I still can’t seem to suck in enough air. I can’t seem to stop clenching my teeth and balling my hands up into fists.
• Trent helps a little. I know this is just as hard for him as it is for me, and I can tell that last remark, which he only made to cheer me up, has cheered him down.
• So I say, “I just don’t know what life looks like now, ya know?”
• He nods. “Yeah, believe me, I know. Monday morning we’ll open the garage back up and I’ll get my cup of coffee and open the bay doors, and wait for him to walk in.” Trent sighs. “And he never will, ya know? He’s never gonna do that again.”
• “I know,” I say. “I wish I hadn’t moved away. I wish I’d been here this whole time. At least then I could miss him the way you do. But I’m going to go back to my apartment and wake up tomorrow and nothing will be different.”
• “That’s not true,” he says, reaching across my leg to grab my hand.
• I like the way his forearm feels lying across my thigh. It’s the first time he’s held my hand in years. Maybe since we were little kids. And it feels good. It feels right.
• “You’re going to feel different every day. I know, because even though Eric was just my best friend and not my twin, I have a space here now, you know?”
• His other hand makes a fist and thumps against his chest. Right over his heart.
• “It’s pretty empty in there,” I say. “Hollow or something.”
• “Yeah,” Trent agrees. “Hollow. That’s exactly how I feel.”
• I sigh, wanting to get up and leave this fucking cemetery but unable to find the strength to do that. My parents took the limo back home and I told them I’d walk. Our townhouse isn’t that far from here. About three miles, maybe. Not a great idea when I’m wearing heels, but I don’t care. I’ll take them off and walk barefoot like we used to do when we were kids. I just couldn’t get in that car with them knowing we’d end up back at home. I don’t think I can do that just yet. I’d rather walk a hundred miles right now than go home knowing Eric will never be there with us again.
• “So…” Trent says. “What do you do in the city? I feel like we haven’t talked in a long time.”
• “Hmmm,” I say. Because it has been a while since I saw him. Our last birthday, probably. That just kills any chance of feeling better. Because my whole life I’ve shared a birthday with my brother and now I don’t.
• “You have a job, of course,” he says. Prodding me to talk.
• “Yes,” I say. “I’m the head chef now at Bistecca del Bosco.”
• “Nice,” he says.
• I shrug. “I guess.”
• “You don’t like it?”
• “Not really.”
• “Then do something else,” he says, like this is so simple.
• I laugh. Not a happy laugh but a ‘yeah, right’ laugh. “Cooking just isn’t as fun as I thought it’d be. I mean, I always wanted to be a baker, for one thing. But there’s no money in baking. And the only other thing I really know how to do is work on those stupid Jeeps.”
• “Stupid Jeeps,” Trent echoes. Sadly, I might add. Because that’s how Eric died. Rock-crawling out in Utah. The Jeep flipped over backwards and crushed him. We had to have one of those half-open caskets because he was not in good shape from the chest down from what they tell me.
• “I should’ve gone to business school with him,” I say.
• Trent just squeezes my hand.
• “I don’t know how you can even look at them,” I say.
• “Who?”
• “The fucking Jeeps,” I say, turning my head so I can meet his gaze.
• He presses his lips together and frowns. “He was doing what he loved, Julia.”
• “Yeah, and now he’s dead.”
• “The Jeep didn’t do this,” he says. “He made a mistake. People do that, ya know. Because they’re people.”
• “Are you going to sell the place?” I ask.
• “Do you think I should sell the place?”
• “Why do you care what I think?”
• “Because he probably left you his share in the will.”
• “Oh,” I say. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
• Trent sighs. “Let’s talk about something else.”
• “Like how we’re going to get home?” I huff another fake laugh. “Because everyone is gone and I know that the backhoe operator is probably well-schooled in graveside etiquette, but I’m pretty sure he’s giving us the stink-eye right now.”
• Trent looks around the cemetery. It’s on a hillside on the edge of town. And there’s a nice view of the mountains from where we’re sitting. The sun is just beginning to set and this day is almost over.
• “We can just walk,” he says. “Your house isn’t that far away. People are probably wondering where we’re at.”
• “I can’t do that,” I say. “I just can’t. I’m not going back there for some… some stupid… whatever it is. It feels like a party. Why do people want to eat and drink after a funeral? It makes no sense to me.”
• “Just… to remember him. And have a chance to share memories?”
• I shake my head a little and huff out some air.
• “I’ll call a car,” he says, letting go of my hand to reach for his phone.
• But I grab his hand back and say, “No. I can walk just fine. I just can’t go back to the house and listen politely as people try to console me. Or worse, expect me to console them. I don’t care if it’s rude. I just lost my twin and I’m not in the mood to hear how sorry everyone is for my loss.”
• “Oh,” Trent says, understanding me. Like the idea of ditching the reception never entered his mind. “Well, I’ll walk you to your car and then make excuses for you.”
• “You will?” I ask, looking at him again. Like… really looking at him. His blue-green eyes are blurry today. Like the tropical ocean they usually resemble has been muddied with silt. His hair is dark and cropped short everywhere but on top near the front. So that every time he bows his head it tumbles down over his face in loose curls.
• His nose is straight, even though I know it was broken once when he was sixteen and Eric accidentally hit him with a wrench when they were working on their first Jeep together. I went to the hospital with them, holding a cloth over Trent’s face as Eric said, “Sorry, dude. Sorry, dude,” over and over again. But he had surgery to fix it a few days later so it’s straight now.
• He grins at me, noticing I’m looking at him. His smile is wide and he always shows teeth. Even when he’s angry, he’ll smile and show teeth. Like a dog getting ready to attack.
• His jaw is square and clean-shaven. Usually he’s got days’ worth of stubble on that chin. And once, when he was seventeen, he grew a goatee.
• That makes me laugh.
• “What?” he asks, looking into my eyes.
• And then we talk about his goatee. And of course, he has to bring up that time I tried to wax my bikini area the day before we went out to the lake for a long weekend and I couldn’t even wear my bathing suit because I had these god-awful red marks all over my upper thighs.
• Pretty soon we’re laughing about the time Trent shaved Eric's head when he passed out drunk one New Year’s Eve and how Eric got back at him the next year by taking pictures of Trent with a dildo in his mouth.
• Before we know it the sun has set. The backhoe guy is lugging out lights and setting them up around us and every chair but the two we’re sitting in has been collected and stacked onto the back of a little tractor.
• Then we’re sad again because we realize we’ve been here for hours, laughing, and smiling, and having a pretty good time. Forgetting that Eric's dead body is lying just a few feet away.
• “Hey,” Trent says. “You ready to get out of here?”
• I sigh, hesitating. Because I’m not. Not really. Walking away from Eric's grave means they’re going to fill it up. And then he’ll really be gone.
• “Come on,” Trent says, standing up and taking my hand. He pulls me to my feet and I slip my shoes off, readying myself for the long walk home.
• He takes them from me, holding them in one hand while holding me in the other, and leads me across the cemetery and down the hill to the town.