I drove home after I dropped off Hannah. I opened the front door to see my family was sitting around the table silently. I took a seat by my sister. Lizzie's face was stained with tears. My dad's face was hard but in pain and my mom was sobbing uncontrollabley.
We sat like that for a while. The table was quiet other than the sound of my mother crying.
"My Tristan." my mother spoke through her tears. "He killed himself."
"Mom they said it was an accidental overdose." I spoke softly. She shook her head but didn't reply.
"I'm going to sleep." my sister stood up and left the room. I got up and left as well. But I was leaving the house. I knew i should stay at home and comfort my parents but selfishly I couldn't bare to stay at home and face all the pain.
I was driving around the city aimlessly. My thoughts were everywhere. Part of me couldn't comprehend the fact that my little brother was gone - and another part of me couldn't get Hannah out of my head. She was really all that I head left of Tristan. He opened up to nobody over the last year but I could see the calming effect that Hannah had on him - even if my parents hated her.
If Tristan trusted anyone - it was definitely Hannah. She was distraught. All I could think about was what she said when she left my car. "I can't get through this." Her words reminded me so much of what Tristan used to say and that scared me. I didn't want her to end up like Tristan did.
I drove around the city for at least an hour before I found that I was circling the park that Tristan and Jack went to the night of the incident. I parked on the side of the road and walked into the park. I collapsed onto a park bench and sat there for a while. I pulled out my phone to check the time - 11:00 PM.
I stared into the dark night trying to imagine exactly what happened the night that the police caught Tristan using drugs. But I couldn't picture it.
I still couldn't shrug the image of six-year old Tristan holding my hand when movies got too scary for him or ten-year old Tristan begging me to play football with him every weekend.
I wish I had said yes to him more often. I wish I had spent more time with him. But back then I also thought we would have forever. I never could have imagined this.
More memories of him caim flashing through my mind. I remember when he was in first grade and I was in fourth grade - and a girl fell of the monkey bars on the playground and he held her hand and took her to see the nurse to get a bandaid. I remember when he was just a freshman and the Principal called home telling us that Tristan had been in a fight. My parents were furious - but when they went to the Principal's Office they found out that Tristan had punched another boy who was bullying a gay kid.
My brother was a good kid. He was a good person. Why did bad things happen to good people?
I sat in the park for another hour recalling memories. I counted all the wasted time. I was regretting every move I had ever made.
I finally got into the car and went back home. The house was silent and it seemed that everyone was asleep. Although I am sure that no one actually was sleeping.
I knocked on Lizzie's door. There was no answer. I was almost thankful.
I didn't know what I would say if she answered. Tristan and Lizzie were two of a kind. I had never gotten very close to Lizzie, maybe because she was so much younger, maybe because her and Tristan were already so close.
I knocked once more and there was no answer. I pushed the door open. Lizzie was sitting in the dark staring at her computer screen. I walked up behind her slowly and saw that she was on Tristan's Facebook page. His profile picture was him, Jack and Tyler all in their football uniforms after having won a game. There was a smile spread accross his face. The smile was convincing - I'm sure the rest of the world couldn't see the pain behind at. At least - the part of the world that doesn't know what happened to him.
"Hey Liz." I whispered to my sister.
"Hey Brad." she said, standing up and moving to sit down on her bed. I sat down on her bed about a foot away from her.
"How are you?" I asked. What a stupid question! I just didn't know what else to say.
"I miss him." she whispered.
"Me too." I whispered back.
"Do you think he's okay?" she asked, I couldn't see her face clearly in the dark but her voice was careful and tired.