Siblings: children of the same parents, each of whom is perfectly normal until they get together ~ Sam Levenson
Mom returns to my room later to find me back in bed, wearing the blue sweater, with the food and drinks completely untouched. If I didn't look bad to her then, I must look like a mess to her now. "The thing with that boy didn't go well?" she asked concerned.
I shake my head sadly then croak out my words, "please ask me before you let anyone else in. I don't want that to happen again."
She purses her lips and nods. I pretend not to notice as she eyes the full tray. Mom sighs and leaves my room.
And before I know it, I fall asleep.
The sudden shift of weight in my bed wakes me. My eyes snap open to mom quietly shouting, "Cam! She's sleeping! Leave her alone!"
But Cam doesn't get up and instead wraps his little arms around me, saying sorry over and over again. I turn around to see him weeping. It's been years since I last saw Cam cry and even then, it was only one tear. He had fallen off of his bike and fractured his leg. A ten year old boy crying softly and still trying to stop himself. He likes to be a macho boy. So seeing him in this state damages my broken heart even more. "I'm sorry, Ray. I'm so, so, so sorry," he repeats between sobs.
Mom seems to be on the verge of tears at this sight as well. I sit up a little and take him in my arms, letting his tears soak my shirt. "It's okay, don't be sorry," I whisper. My face rests on the top of his head as the door shuts.
He sits up and looks at me through bleary eyes. I rest my hand on his cheek and smile at him, "was the reception at least nice?"
He frowns before nodding slightly, "it was exactly how he would've wanted it."
"Tell me all about it," I stay strong, just for Cam... and for dad. He wouldn't want me to be beside myself about this. He would want me to get over it.
His mouth opens to speak, but he clamps is shut straight away, not wanting to talk about it. My eyes widen a little bit, urging him on. So he speaks quietly, "it was in the lab for starters. It was closed casket which doesn't surprise me, he wouldn't want us to see his dea... dead body. Rory was really upset, I had to sit next to her the whole time. She would keep telling me stories about dad. He was so cool. I'm sad that I..." His voice drifts off. He clears his throat before continuing, "I should've been closer to him. He only had one son and that's me. I should've..."
His voice breaks again and I wrap an arm around his shoulder, "Cam, don't spend your days crying. Don't. I know you'll regret it, and the regret will tear you apart, don't get me wrong. But as one final bond with dad, don't be as upset as I'm being. It sucks and dad wouldn't want either of us to cry."
"The last time I spoke to him, it was four years ago. Four years ago, Ray!" he whines.
"Cam, don't you dare. If we're going to talk about last words, look at my last conversation with him. You were there, listening!" I sigh, "I didn't get to tell him how much I loved him and we fought. You never know when the last time you'll talk to someone is. So even when you fight, make up soon after because soon after, you might lose them."
My own words were a wake up call for me. What if I never see Peter again? The last conversation, conversations even were terrible. If those were my last words to him, I would never forgive him. Even MJ and Ned. I have a lot of making up to do, don't I?
Cam notices the sudden change in my mood and despite his tear-stained face, he smiles through it all, "you just taught yourself something, didn't you?" I press my lips together, fighting the grin I want to show. He nods towards the door, "then go... actually, I take that back. Maybe shower first. No, just throw yourself into a sewer and you'll be a little cleaner."
If I was in a proper mood, I would throw a pillow at him. But I just shake my head jokingly. "Cam?" I ask quietly.
"Mm?"
"Is..." I let out a sharp breath, "is it my fault he's gone?"
His jaw drops a little. He hesitates. He hesitates. "Ray, it's no one's fault, okay?" he says quickly.
"It's my fault. You think it's my fault!" I gasp.
"No, I didn't say that!" he reassures me, but his eyes tell a different story.
I have to defend myself. I have to give off a different message to Cam. "Cam, I talked to Tony," I blurt out.
His forehead creases in confusion, "what do you mean you saw Tony? As in Tony Stark? As in Uncle Tony?!"
I bite my lower lip, "yeah."
"What the hell?!" he shrieks, "when? Why? Where? How?"
"I don't know, like a few weeks ago? He came to school to give a talk on career's day. Then he started talking about dad vaguely and I couldn't take it any longer so I left the auditorium. He saw me. We made eye contact. But I ran to this hiding spot in the corner of the school," I ramble.
"What did you talk about? What did he say? I'm going to kick his ass!" he declares.
"Cam, you, of all people, cannot kick Iron Man's ass," I inform him then continue, "he told me that he invested in dad's lab. I told him to give dad money considering he's a billionaire. But he refused to. He said dad won't let him. It made me so, so mad. He should've! He could've!"
Cam stares at me in shock. "It's his fault, then. Dad is dead because of him," he spits.
Whether it's the grief that's speaking instead of us, or whether it's what we truly believe, Cam and I pin this on him. It's Tony Stark. He knows we can't afford it and yet, he still resisted! "Uncle Tony is dead to me," I state it as if it's a fact.
My hair is tangled up in my towel, resting on top of my head. I'm finally out of the same clothes I have been wearing for the past fifteen days.
Sitting on the chair in front of my dressing table, I feel lost. It's not even as if dad guided my every step throughout life, but I feel like I can't do anything without him telling me to. Would it be the best idea to go and approach Peter, Ned and MJ today?
Ugh.
If there's anything I loathe than Tony Stark in this current moment in time, it's second guessing myself. I'm a confident and strong person with brave opinions so it is automatically weird if I'm hesitating like this.
I spot the tray of food from the corner of my eye and my stomach growls a little. It has been a while. One thing that I refuse to let happen is me getting sick like dad did. He got sick, he got more stubborn than he already was and he died. Of all people on earth, I'm the least ready to leave this planet.
The packet of chocolate biscuits is calling my name and my stomach is begging for the apple juice. Chocolate biscuits and apple juice it is. Despite it being warm from sitting around for a while, the apple juice is a liquid and it is a relief to my very dry and croaky throat. The delicious taste of the biscuits makes me nostalgic for the days before fifteen days ago. Watching a movie, eating these blessings and relaxing without feeling the heavy weight of grief on my shoulders.
It's only now that I realize how hungry I am. The entire packet is gobbled down within a few minutes. "You're eating..." mom's voice appears from my door frame, "and you took a shower and you're changed." She sounds satisfied and her face also says that. I simply nod in response with a quick lick of the lips. She beams with her teeth, "you have another guest. I've already let them in." Before I can even open my mouth to protest, she adds, "you'll definitely be okay with this guest."
She steps out of the doorway to present who else has come to visit. Cassie. I never told mom that we'd made up, the last she would've heard of her being how we're not friends anymore. I ensured to state that very clearly. But it seems like she either didn't listen or doesn't care because here she is. It was selfish of mom... however, I'm glad she did it. I need her right now.
Cassie advances towards me in long strides and throws her arms over my shoulders. The door closes silently behind her and she rubs her arms up and down my back. I bury my head in her neck and find comfort in this. I despise hugs but this time, it feels right. Who knew a death could separate two people and bring people together at the same time?
"Who told you?" I sniffle, fighting back the tears again.
"Peter," she whispers, "he stormed out of school yesterday, looking very anxious. I asked him where he was going and he told me he was just going to see if you were okay. I offered to go with him, but he said he needed to talk to you about something private. When he came back, he told me. I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner, if I knew earlier..."
"You didn't know," I tell her, "you didn't know." I chew on my lip, but it doesn't stop the tears from coming out. She pulls back and plants her hands on my shoulders. Cassie is the only person who's used to seeing me cry from all of the times I ran away to her house, breaking down. "Cass, it's hard to believe. I don't want to believe it," I cry out.
She shakes her head, "don't then. Think about all of the times you've had, okay? Good and bad. Just believe that you'll always remember him."
This makes me feel a lot better. She really has a talent for this kind of thing. She moves her hands from my shoulders onto her hips. "Your room is a mess," she declares, "you know what? We are going to blast out any kind of music you want, get your room and you back to your original states. This doesn't seem right for Raven Garcia to have a messy room."
Cassie whips out her phone and connects it to my bluetooth speaker, already tossing it to me with Spotify open. Her playlist is filled with explicit rap songs, the kind that all of the it people listen to. None of them sound familiar to me so I just tap on the one that appeals to me the most, without even reading the title.
She smiles to herself while tidying my bed, "good choice."
I pull the towel from off of my head and stare at my reflection in dismay at the bush resting atop my head. "Cassie?" I gulp.
She lifts her head to look at me, "yeah?"
"I need a favor," I tell her, gesturing towards my hair, "can you help me brush it?"