Chapter Twelve:
Will and I were quick to get off the plane, and it helped that we didn't have to get our bags from baggage claim since we both just had carry-on duffle bags.
"Come on, Whitney said she's here to take us to the hospital," Will informed me as he took my hand in his and pulled me with him through the airport. The familiar warmth was tingling in my hand like it used to oh so many years ago, but I didn't let it get to my head.
"Is he here in Boston?" I asked Will.
"I think he's just outside the city. My sister said she knows where it is." Whitney, Will's sister, lives in an apartment complex in Boston. Will and I used to come up every few months back in the day, but it will definitely save time to have Whitney drive us since she knows the ropes around here better.
We stepped outside and Will quickly found Whitney's car before we both dashed over to it. She seemed startled when we both slid into the back seat because she nearly dropped her phone.
"Hey guys," She greeted before adjusting her position.
I mustered a smile and Will said, "Hey sis."
Whitney put the car in drive and pulled away from the airport, "How was the flight?"
"It was quick," Will answered for us.
"How are you doing, Sophia?" She asked sympathetically and I saw her look at me in the rear view mirror.
I forced another small smile, "I'm okay." It was a small fib. Inside I felt like a jumble of nerves but I was forcing myself to think positive until I knew what was really up.
There was a silence after that, but Will and I both noticed at an all-knowing, but sad, smile on her face.
Puzzled, Will asked "What are you so smiley about?"
Her smile grew a little wider, "Oh nothing." Will raised his eyebrows and Whitney added, "It's just, really great to see you two together again."
Even though Will and I weren't 'together-together' I still felt my face tint pink. I didn't look at him, but I imagine Will was smirking slightly beside me. Around this point, I realized we were on the freeway, and it seemed like we were heading in the direction of Ramsey.
"Is this hospital this far out of town?" I asked Whitney.
Whitney's eyes met mine in the rear view mirror again, and I felt a pit in my stomach. "Sophia, your mom got a hold of me, and asked that I just take you home."
"But," I began confused, "Why?"
Whitney's sad eyes said it all. Words weren't needed.
My mind didn't really believe it, but in the depths of my heart, I knew that Grandpa was gone.
*****
The rest of the drive was driven in almost complete silence. My mind was in a huge cloud and I didn't have any coherent thoughts. I barely even noticed that Will had my hand in his again and was rubbing reassuring circles on the back of my hand with his thumb.
Surprisingly, it did help to calm me down a little, even though my heart briefly sped up when I first noticed.
We arrived at my house and I nearly fell out of the car in my hurry to get out, forgetting to say anything to Whitney and Will. After nearly falling, I picked myself up and ran in to the house. As I entered the living room, all five other members of my family jumped in surprise.
"Sophia!" My mom called, relief and heartbreak both clear in her voice.
I didn't say anything, just stared at my mom with questioning eyes. She simply shook her head and I felt my eyes burning in pain.
She took in a sharp breath, "The doctors said that around 2:00 in the morning, your grandfather had a stroke. Since it was the middle of the night, no one knew anything was wrong until late the next morning." Mom was slow with her words, and then she added shakily "And by then, it was too late."
My breathing was ragged, the way it always is when I'm trying not to cry. The tears were threatening to fall, and I took this moment to glance at my family members. What I saw broke my heart.
Mom had clearly been crying, and was the glue that was holding my family from falling apart. It was my dad's father, after all. But I could tell that she was struggling with it.
Jane was staring at me with slightly red eyes. She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. She seemed relieved that I was here now.
The twins were sitting next to each other, glued at the hip as usual. Blake was looking at his hands with sadness clear in his eyes, and Luke was looking at Blake with worry and equally despairing eyes.
The last person I looked at was my dad. The sight of him shot a pang of hurt through my heart. Grandpa was my dad's dad, and they were close. My dad was a strong man: tough, happy, and hilarious. But now, for the first time in my life, I saw severe sadness, and few tears slip from his eyes. He took in a sharp breath before quickly wiping them away.
It's a sight I'll never unsee, and it still hurts to remember.
In that moment, I realized how badly my family needed me. They needed me to be strong, and brave, and hold them all together. When all I want to do right now is go my room, scream, and cry out of my anger and sadness, I knew I couldn't. Especially for the sake of Dad.
I wouldn't let any of them see me cry.
The room lapsed in to another silence. I took the moment to move and sit in between Blake and Luke on the couch, wrapping an arm around both their shoulders and effectively bringing them in to a half-hug. I rested my head on Blake's in attempt to comfort him and myself.
Not much else happened that day. Everyone was either eerily silent, or moving around quickly in order to distract ourselves. We'd watch TV, or I'd help Mom out in the kitchen. I also played Monopoly with Blake, Luke, and Jane. I focused as little as I could on my own feelings and instead tried to fix my broken family members.
It had been decided that the funeral would be Thursday. But then, we decided that a funeral wasn't right. Charles Kingston Jr. would hate a depressing gathering for his death. What Grandpa would want is for us all to remember the good times, laugh, and relive all the great memories we had with him.
So a Celebration of Life ceremony would be held Thursday at our very own Kingston Household.
I was walking up to my room, completely worn out from the emotional toll of the day, and as I got to the stairs, I noticed the office light was on. Curious, I walked down to see Dad sitting at his desk.
"Dad?" I broke the stillness of the office by asking.
His sad blue eyes met mine, and he offered a small smile, "Hey kid."
"What are you doing?" I asked while approaching him.
He sighed, "Just looking at a few old pictures." I observed his desk and saw dozens of pictures if Grandpa, Dad, Grandma, and Dad's siblings. Grandma had passed away before I was even born, so I don't even know if this was his same reaction then. I seriously hope not, because the thought of that makes me heart feel heavy.
I laughed while picking up a picture, "Is this you?"
Dad sighed, but I noticed a tiny smile forming. "Yes."
"What the hell are you doing?"
"I asked Dad if it was possible to give yourself a wedgie, and he told me to try it out and see."
I giggled at the picture. It was quite hilarious to see a picture of your dad as an eight year old pulling his underwear over his head. Dad chuckled too, "It is a funny picture."
I nodded in agreement and set the photo gently back on the desktop. "Alright Dad, I'm off to bed. You should turn in soon also," I noted, knowing well that Dad would be up to the wee hours of the morning doing just what he is now.
He sighed, "I will soon, Kiddo."
I gave him a tight hug, "Goodnight. Love you."
"Love you, too," he said as I pulled away and left the room. I flashed him a small, reassuring smile before trekking up the stairs to my room.
As I closed my old bedroom door behind me, I leaned up against it and exhaled greatly. This day had really taken its toll on me. Now that I'm alone in my own room, it only makes sense that I would crash and sleep.
Except that's not even close to what happened.
My tough facade from the day had been dropped, and my eyes burned from all the unshed tears. I willed them not to fall, though. Grandpa wouldn't want that. No matter how hard I tried, sleep wouldn't come. I ended up laying on my back for two and a half hours just staring at the ceiling and basking in my thoughts.
And let me tell you, what I was thinking about was not pleasant.
More than anything, I felt an overwhelming sadness. Sadness for the passing of one of my very favorite people on the world. Who would play chess with me? Who would give me wise advice about my crazy life?
I felt guilt. Guilt for not seeing Grandpa more. Guilt that maybe, just maybe. If I was here, I could have done something.
I also was lost. Grandpa understood me better than anyone else. Well, aside from Will.
Will.
Come to think of it, I hadn't seen him since I practically ditched him in the car. Oops. Was that really today? The day has gone by so slow. It's weird to think that at the beginning of this day I had been at work filing papers.
Speaking of which, first thing tomorrow I needed to call the office and tell them where I am. Hopefully Mr. Sommers won't be too upset. He'll understand, right? A deceased loved one is a perfectly valid reason to leave in the middle of the work day.
That started up the cycle again of guilt and depression again.
I need a distraction.
My nightstand clock read 1:37 am. Sighing and knowing full well I wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon, I pulled open the drawer of my nightstand to reveal one of my most treasured possessions. If there was a fire, this is undoubtedly the thing I would save.
My collection of all ten seasons of Friends.
The addiction began in 2005, around the time I turned fourteen. The characters on these shows are my friends, and they never fail to make me smile when I'm down.
So what did I do? I opened season two, disc two, put it in my DVD player, and hit play.
*****
Two full disks plus an episode, and I finally became vaguely aware that the sun was either up or on its way. I didn't even manage ten minutes of sleep.
I tried, I really did, but I couldn't. Normally watching TV can make me a little sleepy, but it just didn't. For that reason, I ended up pulling an all-nighter without even trying. Gee, where was that when I needed it at Columbia?
I was halfway through another episode when my door creaked. Turning my head, I was surprised to see Will standing in my doorway with a sheepish smile.
"Hey," He began as he closed the door behind him. My room was still fairly dark, illuminated by mainly the white Christmas lights that I put up years and years ago, but I could make out that he was hesitant and awkward.
"What are you doing here?" I blurted.
He shrugged as his brown eyes surveyed my room, "Just came to see how you're doing."
I pursed my lips, "I'm fine." Lie.
He nodded, but something told me he knew I was lying. He's always been able to tell. Damn his observational skills.
The air got slightly awkward, so I spoke up. When I did, I didn't even consider the fact that my blond curls probably had me looking like a partially albino lion right now and I was wearing my Scooby Doo pajamas.
"I'm watching Friends. If you want you can sit in my chair," I offered, gesturing towards the purple fluffy chair on the other side of my nightstand.
"This room really hasn't changed at all," Will said after surveying the area and plopping down on the purple fluff ball. I chuckled, knowing well that it hasn't, and remembering how often Will had been in my room.
Not in that way though, so calm yourself.
"Yeah I know," I agreed.
"I see you even have the same pajamas."
He took care of me many times when I was sick. And kidnapped me in these exact pajamas. Stop assuming sexual things!
"I only wear the best," I pointed out. To be honest I was surprised he remembered, and I wondered if he remembered that I was wearing this when he kissed me after our first 'date.'
Probably not.
Sighing quietly, I directed my attention back at the TV to watch the show.
Every once in a while, I stole a glance at Will out of the corner of my eye. A small pang shot through my chest. Maybe it's because I just lost one of the people I really loved most, but I realized how very much I have missed having Will in my life.
He hasn't been back in it for long, and it hasn't gone exactly well thus far. Who knows how long he will be around, but I am sure as hell that I missed him a crap load more than I originally thought.
Being in the same room as him was starting to make my head spin. That, and my eyes were burning. Whether it's from the buckets of unshed years or from my lack of sleep, I don't know.
Sighing, I kicked off my comforter and slipped out of bed. Will's head automatically turned to face me and I felt my heart skip a few steps as Will briefly checked me out. I suppose that's normal, right? After all, he is a guy and I am in fairly short pajama bottoms.
"I, uh, am going to go grab some coffee. You want any?" I asked, not quite believing that I actually stuttered. That rarely happens. Usually words just flow easily right out, except when I'm with Will.
Curse that bastard and this stupid effect he still has on me. Curse him! Curse him nine ways to Sunday!
Will shook his head, with a small smirk on his face, "No thanks." I stood there as we both held eye contact for a few more seconds. Why the hell was he smirking? Then I abruptly turned out the door and downstairs to get some coffee.
Usually, I detest coffee. I can normally only tolerate it in small doses, or when you can't really tell it's there. But right now, I desperately needed it considering I got zilch sleep last night.
So I poured my coffee in my old favorite Mickey Mouse mug to drink.
Straight up black.
I didn't sleep at all and I'm going to need something to get me through the day.
I took a chug before heading up to my room and immediately regretted it. Not only was it scalding hot, but it was also a positively wretched taste.
With a look of absolute distain on of face, I stormed back in to the kitchen and dumped it out. Dad always joked that the face people make when they drink their first sip of beer is the same face I make every time I drink coffee, and it's quite accurate if I must say. Spitting in the sink, I wiped my tongue with my hands. In need of a new taste in my mouth, so I opened the fridge.
Coca-Cola.
Jackpot.
As a kid this always got my hyped up, and I know for a fact it does the same thing to me now. I pulled dozens of college all-nighters on a few cans of Coke. It's basically my red bull.
I trudged back up the stairs with my can of Coke in my hand. Sighing, I settled back in to my bed under my layers of blankets and got comfortable. I could feel Will staring at me, but I acted oblivious as I popped open my can of soda.
Ahh. Nothing quite like a can of sugary, caffeinated heaven at 6:45 in the morning.
Speaking of which, what the hell is Will doing up so early?
Or better yet, why was he even here? At my house?
I opened my mouth to ask him, but he spoke up instead. "I knew you wouldn't come back with a cup of coffee." I glanced at Will to see him smirking still.
Confused, I asked "What do you mean?"
He rolled his eyes, "You've hated coffee for as long as I can remember. I didn't believe you were actually getting yourself some when you said that." Ah, so that was the reason for the smirk. It's true. I used to loathe coffee. I'm still not a huge fan, but like I said, I can tolerate it in small doses now. Every now and then I'll have a white chocolate mocha or something. Usually I have it blended, and it makes it more like a milkshake than the cup a dirt I usually taste.
"Coke is better," I replied simply as I took a sip and relished in the delectably sweet taste. So delicious.
Will chuckled, "You really haven't changed much, have you Soph." It came out as more of a statement and I thought about it.
Have I changed much?
By the looks of it, no. I still fit in my high school pajamas even. Maybe I was a bit tougher but one has to be when living in the Big Apple.
What about Will? Is he the same jerk he was the months before I left?
People change, a voice echoed in my head. A familiar voice.
I peered at Will again and saw that his eyes had returned to watching the TV screen. He has a small smile playing his lips, and I couldn't help but notice that as he looked undoubtedly adorable and sexy as he did.
Is that even possible?
Of course it is. It's Will freaking Harvey.
I fidgeted with the circular top of my soda can. "Hey Will?" I began.
"Yeah?"
I pursed my lips and continued to play with the lid of my drink. "Why did you come over here?"
Will's gaze weighed on me and timidly I looked to meet his eyes. "Why? Do you not want me here?"
I furrowed my eyebrows, "No that's not it. I was just wondering. I mean, you have a job, you play baseball for a living. I don't really get why you're here and not there." Will was silent for a moment and I went back to being overly interested in my soda can. I don't know what was making me nervous. Maybe I'm nervous because I don't know what he's going to say.
Finally and unexpectedly, Will spoke up again, his voice slower and softer than usual. "I know how much your grandpa meant to you," He began, and I felt his eyes surveying me. "And I figured you could really use someone right now. I know I wasn't actually related to him by blood, but he was like a grandpa to me. I told my coach I had a family emergency, and he wished me well on my way. So don't worry about me, okay?"
A small smile played my lips, and when I looked up to meet Will's eyes, my heart melted at the concern they held. "Thanks," I replied quietly.
His face broke out in to his million dollar crooked smile, the dazzler. After a moment I looked away out of habit and he averted his attention back to the TV.
A minute or two passed, and I peered back at him and observed his features. His dark blond hair was tousled in its usual wavy way. He had just a little bit of scruff on the sides of his face, which made him look so ruggedly good looking. His shoulder muscles were clear through his dark grey t-shirt, and his biceps definitely had the right amount of muscle. These last five years have undoubtedly been good to him. He was so handsome.
Have you ever looked at someone, and thought that they are so good looking that you just feel the need scream it from the rooftops? Yeah, I have too.
Suddenly, while I was looking at him, our entire relationship flashed before my eyes. The good and the bad, the happy and the sad.
Everyone deserves a second chance, the familiar voice whispered again.
And again.
And again.
And again.