Looking around the apartment, Jasmine sighed. Packed and sealed boxes were pushed along one wall, while unfolded ones waited against the arm of the futon. An old newspaper sat in a scattered stack on the kitchen table. It was only a year ago that she was helping Garrett move in.
Now, she was moving his things out.
The windows were open wide, as were the doors at either end of the stairs. A breeze swept through the room bringing with it the promising scent of rain. If they hurried, they could finish boxing things up today and worry about moving tomorrow.
"Jasmine," Carter huffed as he came up the stairs, one loud foot fall after another.
"No need to shout," She turned to face him and her smile double. In his hands was a pizza box and a brown, grease stained bag.
"Daryl at Deep Dish Nation sent over some extra cheesy bread," Carter shrugged as he looked for a place to set down the box. "Someone's been busy."
"It's what I do," Jasmine cleared a place at the table for the food.
"Why aren't his parents doing this?"
"I volunteered. They have other things that still need to be taken care of. You know, paperwork and such. Besides, I need a distraction."
"From what exactly?" Carter ripped open the brown bag, pulled out the white Styrofoam container and popped it open. Garlic and butter burst into the air as he reached for a piece.
"From everything. I can't go into work because Dave keeps trying to lighten my work load until I'm ready. Daisy won't speak to me still. Liam hasn't left me alone since the morning we got the news," she shook her head. "I need things to be normal again. I need to be able to walk down the street without sympathetic stares."
"And his apartment still being full isn't normal?" Jasmine gave him a look as she pulled paper plates from a cabinet. "Hear me out. You want things to go back to normal, but forcing Garrett to have never existed is not normal. It isn't healthy. He lived Jazz, and he has passed on."
She still hadn't said anything as she sat across from Carter. "Have you grieved at all?"
"Of course, I have," she snapped. "I feel like that's all I have been doing."
"Do you know how to grieve?"
"In my own way, ass."
"Yes, everyone has their own ways, but they always go through the same process at some point."
"What do you want me to say? I cried the first three nights, or when no one was around. I wouldn't change out of his sweatshirt those three days. Will that suffice?"
"Have you yelled, thrown something?" She looked her brother like he was crazy. "You mean to tell me that you aren't the least bit angry this happened? Even the slightest bit?"
"Of course, I am, but I have no reason to be."
"Jazz." Carter stared at his sister until she let out another sigh and leaned back in her seat.
"Before he left, we were finally happy. We were ready to be us."
"Hey," Carter put his hand on her knee. When she looked back, he smiled weakly at her. "You and Liam were a shit show, if we're being honest."
"We were, weren't we," Jasmine laughed emptily. In Carter's book, it was still a laugh.
"You and Garrett, you could have been great. However," he flipped the lid of the pizza box and retrieved a piece to set on one of the paper plates. "You and I both know, it would have been awkward for you."
"What do you mean?"
"You would have been proving Liam right. All this time you held Garrett higher in your heart than him. You have issues saying you were wrong on daily things. Something that big, that runs that deep, you would never admit it. Especially, not to Liam."
Jasmine registered everything he was saying as he passed her one of the plates. Maybe her younger, yet wiser brother had a point. He was an outside viewer of both her friendships. She lifted the slice of deep-dish pizza to her mouth and took a large bite in an attempt to keep herself from adding to Carter's speech. Her rebuttal wasn't needed though for Carter to continue.
"You know, Dad told me once that it's in the past so don't look back."
"Dad told you that during football games, because you would always look over your shoulder after you caught the pass."
"It relates to this, too." He took a bite of his own slice. Rolling the food around in his mouth, he spoke again, "He's not coming back, Jazzy."
"I know."
"Do you though?"
"I saw him," Jasmine snapped as she dropped her plate on the table. "I saw him lying in that glorified box, unmoving and pale as the moon."
"But have you accepted it?" She looked at him with daggers. "Your boxing up his stuff like you're going to ship it to him or put it in storage. What are you going to do with it? Send it to his parents and then what will they do? Anything that means something, should be kept. Everything else can be donated, passed off or sold. Don't hold on to too much from the past. It'll weigh you down and you'll never be the same."
"I'm already not the same,"Jasmine mumbled as she picked back up the plate. The two finished their meal insilence. The words continued to do their work on Jasmine. If the silence wasn'tgoing to eat away at her, then her thoughts and brother's words would.