It's a calm night, the waves rushing around the withered legs of Casey's pier slowly and lazily.
The water travels up the shore until my feet are submerged, but stops before hitting the hem of my shorts, my butt seated firmly in the sand.
The waves are warm, the same temperature as the air it feels like, and comforting, even on a night like tonight.
The beach is empty, save the case of beer beside me. It's untouched, all the bottles unopened.
The lights of the boardwalk flicker down a ways, the distant sounds of life far off, nearly drowned out by the sound of the sea swirling around my feet.
I stare ahead, frowning at the line where the dark sky meets the impossibly darker sea. I watch, wondering how, on such an awful day, the world can carry on.
Peacefully even.
It doesn't make sense that everything else can be so... normal, while I feel so torn apart on the inside, still in shambles from that night, that accident.
I dig my toes deeper into the wet sand.
The first year after was ugly.
I wouldn't - no, I couldn't - leave my bed, my chest feeling so hollow and aching so much that I could hardly breathe, let alone stand or get dressed. Functioning anywhere near normally was out of the question, yet knowing this, Mom still tried.
She tried hard, I can give her that much.
"We could drive up to the beach," she offered, a glimmer of real concern in her eyes, "You feel him there, don't you, Dylan?"
I refused.
She offered to visit the cemetery, to go to church, to go to his favorite skate shop. Again and again I refused until it was a battle between us, screaming and sobbing rocking the walls of our house.
Mom nearly tried to drag me from the bed, but when I smacked her hand away from me, she looked at me like I'd betrayed her. Like I'd cut her deeply by denying her help.
I didn't care. I couldn't. I only knew how bad I was hurting.
She finally gave up, throwing her hands in the air and insisting that she and my father would be doing something for their son, whether I wanted to participate or not.
I did not participate. I don't even know where they went or what they did.
But somehow, despite the chaos, Dad managed to say nothing at all.
I did do something for Case, though.
That day, I cried until my eyes were dry and sore. I screamed into my pillow until my throat was raw, and I balled my fists and pounded the mattress. I begged for the pain to end, for the throbbing in my heart to stop.
Headlights behind me illuminate the shore in front of me, my shadow falling before me in the sand. The tires sound familiar and I don't have to turn to know who's joining me in Casey's special place on a night like tonight.
I got what I begged for that day, too, in a way. After the first year, the pain ebbed and I got moments of relief: moments of terrifying numbness that might have been even worse than the pain.
Worse because it hurt to think of Casey. The numbness meant I wasn't thinking about him, wasn't thinking, wasn't feeling, at all. And forgetting Casey would always be worse than the pain of remembering him.
A coward, unable to handle the numbness or the pain, I took to drinking myself into a deep, soundless sleep the next year.
It's been a tradition ever since. The first real night of sleep I get following a month of nightmares, induced by too much alcohol for my body to appropriately handle.
Mom and Dad do what they do, Grams goes to church, I'm sure. Maya and Jordan have a "celebration of life."
And every year, I drink.
"Not thirsty?" Luke's voice is low as he settles in the sand beside me. He gestures to the beer between our bodies.
Every year except this one. I glance at the bottles, finding no desire to drink until I can't remember anymore. Too... drained to desire anything.
"Not really." I say finally, resting my head against his shoulder.
"Sad?" He murmurs, his fingers twisting the end of my braid down my back.
"Always."
"And alone." It sounds like he's frowning. "I'm surprised your parents don't make you spend the day together."
"No, only his birthday." I eye the horizon again, sifting my fingers through the sand. "Accident day is just for me."
Luke's arm comes around my shoulder then, squeezing me tightly. He says nothing, his touch enough to let me know he's got me.
"I ran into Maya earlier." I sigh, feeling too exhausted to get angry again.
"Yeah?"
I nod. "She and Jordan throw a party every year on this date, did you know that?" I tip my head to stare into Luke's eyes, needing the comfort of someone who loves Case like I do.
He shakes his head, his sad, Luke smile on his lips. "Didn't get the invite, no."
I settle back against his shoulder, tucking in. "Me neither. Makes sense - celebrating someone's life without the most important people in it."
His fingers continue to play with my hair, twisting my braid as he kisses my head gently. There aren't words to make any of this better, so he doesn't offer any.
"It's like they're mocking him, Luke. A bunch of people who hardly knew him using his accident - a fucking drunk driving accident, no less -" He flinches at that but I continue anyways, "To get drunk on the beach."
"And a way for Maya to make herself feel better for all the shitty things she did." I add after a moment, unable to place the girl I saw at the liquor store earlier with the one I was best friends with years ago.
How did she do this? How did any of this happen?
Instead of letting my anger brew, Luke keeps his tone soft, nurturing.
"How would you want to celebrate his life instead?"
"I -" I stop short when I realize that I don't actually know. Clearly what I've done - nothing but be miserable - hasn't exactly been honoring his memory.
Learning to surf is certainly not enough. A cross at his accident site is basically a joke. His tombstone is one of many, it has nothing to do with who Casey was.
And yet... how do you memorialize someone who shouldn't even be gone?
"I don't know." I admit, discontent with my answer.
"You have time to think about it, then." Another kiss to my head. We sit in silence awhile, Luke letting me consider what he's said as he watches the water come and go.
After several frustrating minutes, I give up for the time being, too tired to concentrate. "Can we start small?"
"We can start wherever you'd like, Dylan Grace."
Snuggling in closer to his body, I discard the beer behind us, shoving it as far away as possible.
"Tell me another Casey memory."
And so he does.
For hours, until our butts are sore and hazy light is beginning to peek over the now glistening water, we share our favorite stories. The minutes pass and we laugh, sometimes pausing to wipe at our cheeks before starting again, the memories so vivid it's like they aren't memories at all.
Until it's like listening to Luke recall their antics, describe his laugh, brings Casey back to life. Until it feels like he's there with us, his warm presence sitting on my other side.
Not an absence of him. But a feeling of closeness.
A closeness to him I haven't felt in a long, long time.
By the time the sun is risen over the water, Luke has to carry me to his truck, tucking me in carefully, almost the same way he tucks in Finn. My eyes flutter closed on the short ride home to Grams, not a drop of alcohol in my system.
And my last thought, before I drift into a comfortable sleep...
This is the first year since that night that I haven't been alone.
More emotions as we come closer and closer to the end... you guys know me so you know... it has to get worse before it gets better... right? Tell me what ya think! Love ya ❤️