Never Really Over (Bremmy 3)

Chapterish 63

I take these thoughts home with me as I trace the familiar route back to my mom's house, the freshly fallen leaves crunching beneath my feet. Under the night sky, home feels both the same and different from the last time I was here. It was with Cece. And now I'm alone. It was spring and now it's fall.

I turn onto our street and the silhouette of our house comes into view. It still feels so sad and empty compared to growing up. When my dad was still around. When Brody and I would play catch in the yard. We'd spend holidays altogether.

A lot has changed, but I'm pleased when I see the light in Brody's room is still on. He's waiting up for me, like he always used to when I was in high school.

"Hey man. What's up?" I ask, leaning in his doorway.

"Just last-minute shit," he answers, stretching his arms at his computer desk. Still has a DELL from 1999.

"What could you possibly be doing?" I laugh, entering his room. "Writing your own speech?"

"Ha-ha," funny," Brody says. "But no. Lauren wanted me to email the rehearsal place. Confirm the count. And I just gave the final deposit for the trolly."

"Busy night," I joke.

"Mom left some salmon in the oven for you," he says.

"We grilled at Back Bay." I flop down on his bed and glance around his walls. "Still can't believe you hung that up."

"What?" Brody looks around laughing when he spots the poster. "Paramore is a treasure. Always was always will be."

"Screams 2009," I laugh, eyes creasing.

"Speaking of 2009..." Brody trails off, eyes narrowed. "What were you doing tonight? Or who."

"Hey! I resent that," I say.

"Sorry. But really," he says, suddenly serious. "Lauren told me."

"Told you- what?" I must sound coy. I can barely speak through the smile plastered all over my face.

"You know what." Brody rolls his eyes. "I know Emmy is on the market again. And I know how much you love an old habit."

"Oh?"

"I just want to make sure -I mean -Are you having any crazy ideas?"

"A few," I admit.

"Jay-" He begins.

"Don't worry, man. I won't upstage your wedding," I tease.

"Kind of you. But not what I was going to advise," he says, elbows resting on his knees.

The desk lamp casts shadows across his face. Maybe it's the half-darkness, but I'm struck by how much he looks like me right now. Our resemblance has always been just short of uncanny, but I see a different side of it tonight.

Brody, face relaxed and happy, unburdened by years' of bad decisions and self-inflicted heartache. Maybe he's what I would have looked like if I never left early for college.

If I stayed.

If Emmy and I were the ones who went strong. Not Trix and Travis or Meg and Nate.

I smile, thinking maybe Brody learned from my mistakes, even if he did have a Paramore poster.

"What's your advice then? Soon to be married man?" I prompt.

"You know I love Emmy," he begins.

"We have that in common," I say.

"I just don't think you should make any decisions now," Brody says.

"Now? What do you mean?"

"Two weeks ago, you were engaged to someone else."

"Thanks, I'd forgotten." I roll my eyes.

"Don't you think it's messed with your head? Don't you think it will mess with hers if you just chase after her again?" He asks.

Yes.

"No." I shake my head, sitting up against his wall. "Because I'm not going to chase her on a whim."

"Oh -Oh," he says, surprised. "Okay then. I just assumed-"

"It's not on a whim," I add.

"Oh," he says, understanding dawning.

"Relax, little bro," I laugh. "I'm not forcing anything. Not jumping to conclusions. And if it does happen for us again -me and Emmy. I won't fuck it up this time."

"I've heard that before," he smiles sadly. "But I hope you're right. Guess we'll find out tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Lauren wants another party tomorrow," he says, holding up his phone. "Beach bonfire out back. Lauren says no Nos."

"Then I guess we'll find out tomorrow," I say, standing from his bed.

"Goodnight," Brody calls after me.

I wave my hand behind my head as I cross the hall. My room is dark and quiet apart from the waves I hear in the distance. I love a cracked window in the fall. The moonlight streams through the open curtains, spotlighting my trophy shelf and my old jersey. Suddenly, my head feels like a medicine ball, heavy and unbearable to hold up any longer. Maybe it's weighed down by thought -information overload -planning.

It feels like I may explode.

And still, there's enough room for one thought that I concentrate on now. I wonder what Emmy is doing. She must be back from the drive-in by now, probably home and sleeping already.

I let myself hope she's thinking of me too. It kills me knowing she's only a few blocks over, at arm's-length, but still out of reach. In my dream life, she's next to me right now. And I'm holding her.

Among doing other things.

I smile into my pillow like the fool I am.

Tonight, I rest and hope that the answer comes to me in sleep. Tomorrow -Tomorrow I begin my grand plan to win Emmy Rhodes back.

Once and for all.