𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯 𝔟𝔬𝔶 [2]

17

I had been the one who called Gordon about Hans. 

I had to listen to him breakdown on the phone, I had to hear everyone breakdown, but listening to the realization that my brother had is what made me finally break too. As soon as I had hung up the phone, I left my friends and went back to my room. 

I had never really known Hans, I had met him a couple of times but he wasn't in my life as long as he was in everyone else's. I could see the effect he had left on everyone else's lives though, I could see how painful his death was. 

It was sunny the day of Han's funeral. 

It felt wrong. 

Everyone's mood was grey and it felt like there was a fog hanging on everyone as we stood at the funeral. 

The priest, or whatever religious person it was, started talking. Soon everyone was repeating after him. I'm not religious, I didn't know the words, but I still listened. 

I looked around to see everyone's faces red and puffy, I looked up at Adam. He just looked mad. I reached over and grabbed his hand, he grabbed back and squeezed. It hurt a little bit but it was alright. 

I saw Gordon show up, he had clearly been crying, he still was. 

The priest man was about to read a passage from the Bible when Gordon stopped him, "Excuse me, one second." Gordon unfolded the Ducks jersey that he was holding, the back of it reading: Hans, 11. He laid it down on the casket and Adam squeezed my hand tighter. "Every time you touch the ice, remember it was Hans who taught us to fly." 

I looked over to see Charlie walking away. No one moved, we just watched him go. 

Everyone began placing flowers on Han's caskets, giving their final respects. I let go of Adam's hand, letting him place his flowers and hug Gordon. 

After Gordon had hugged the rest of the Ducks I walked up to him and wrapped him in a hug, "I'm sorry. This must be hard for you." 

Gordon squeezed me, "I'll be fine." 

"You don't have to be." 

Gordon pulled away and wiped his face, "I know." Gordon put his arm around my shoulders, "Wanna go home?" 

I nod, "Yeah." 

"Alright." 

The house was quiet, besides minor conversations. 

Gordon had left to take a shower, then he had come back to turn on sports on the TV. Which I think he had fallen asleep to. I didn't know for sure until he called for me, "Wren, can you come here?" 

I walked to the living room and sat in the chair across from the couch, "What's up?" 

"What's going on with Charlie? Everyone was telling me that he hasn't shown up to school or practices. Same with Fulton." 

"I don't know. He hasn't really talked to me much since Adam was put on Varsity, he thinks I betrayed them because I was always with Adam. But, I think he missed you. He told me awhile ago that it felt like you were just tossing them to the dogs."

"I wasn't tossing anyone to the dogs, I was trying to set them up for success."

"Tell that to Charlie, not me. I think you should talk to him, he's struggling. He clearly needs somebody, he's just too stubborn to ask." 

The doorbell rings and Gordon stands up to get it, "Hold on. I'll be right back." 

I turned my attention to the hockey game that was currently playing on the TV, it was a rerun of one that I had already been forced to watch, courtesy of Averman. But my attention snapped right back to Gordon when I heard him say, "What the hell do you think you're doing here? Get off of my porch." 

"Gordon? Who is it?" I started to get up from the chair and walk over to the front door.

"It's no one." 

When Gordon noticed that I was next to him, he tried to close the door and prevent me from seeing who it was, but he was to late. 

"Dad?" I pulled the door wider, just to make sure that I wasn't hallucinating. 

The tall man smiled at me, "Hey, birdie. Look at you, you've grown so much." 

"No. No. Nope. No." 

My father spreads his arms open wide, "Don't you want to give your old man a hug?" 

I start to laugh manically, when I'm done with my hands on my knees, I look up, "I get home from a funeral and then my dead beat father shows up. What a day." 

"Wren, don't call me a dead beat. I was in jail, what was I supposed to do?"

"Not drink and drive. Not be an alcoholic. Oh I don't know, don't be a fucking shit head. Want me to give you more? Cause I've got about ten years worth of shit to call you." 

"Wren-" 

"No!" I start to say every curse word in Icelandic that Gunnar taught me. 

"C'mon, birdie. I just want to talk." 

"Don't call me birdie. You don't get to do that. Get off of my fucking porch." 

"Wren, let me talk." 

"I said get off of my fucking porch." I grab the collar of his shirt and start pushing him backwards, "When I say something, you should do it. It's the least you could do after everything you've ever done. So when I say get off the porch, you get off of it." I keep pushing him, closer and closer to his car, still yelling at him every step of the way, I open the driver's side door and shove him in, "Get in your car and drive away."

"Woah, what happened?" A kid in the passenger seat asks as I reach for my father's seat belt. 

I look up at him, "Who the fuck are you?" 

"Are you Wren?" He asks me, his head tilting slightly to the side with his question.

"Yeah." 

"Guess that makes me your brother." I feel my face drop and get red hot as the kid and I stare at each other. 

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."