The Mixtape by Brittainy C. Cherry

9

OLIVER

My parents stayed the night and flew out in the early morning. Even though I was certain they were hurting, they didn’t show an ounce of their pain in front of me. If anything, they brought their bright, bubbly personalities that I grew up around and shone their love over my darkness. I was grateful for their light.

Cam had no interest in coming over, as she was still pissed at me for not answering her calls the day prior. She was even more upset that I hadn’t performed at the show, saying she was ready to do a surprise song for the audience. “You didn’t even think of the exposure it could’ve brought my new album,” she scolded. “You never think of me, Oliver.”

Not once did she ask why I wasn’t able to perform.

Not once did she question if I was okay.

Not once did I think that we were destined for happily ever after.

Still, I selfishly needed her. When no one was with me during the nights, I crumbled and gave myself to the bottle. I didn’t want alcohol to be my fix anymore, because it always swallowed me whole and I’d wake the next morning feeling worse off than I had the previous evening.

So, I leaned on Cam coming home each night.

Our whole relationship was based on selfishness. She stayed with me because it made great press for her to be the sweetheart who stayed by my side during my storm, and I stayed with her so I wouldn’t lose myself in the dark.

Toxic? Yes.

Terrible coping mechanism? Also yes.

I sat in my bedroom with large headphones covering my ears. I was home alone, so I turned to music to drown out the noise that was echoing in my head. I had a playlist with over six hundred of my favorite songs that meant something to me—half of which I’d probably learned about from Alex when he’d send me a song a day. I missed getting those songs.

I missed sharing my songs too.

“Oliver? Are you here?” a voice hollered through my house. The voice was loud enough to cut through the music playing in my headphones. I slid them down and placed them around my neck.

I listened to Kelly’s heels click-clacking through my hallways as she grew closer and closer to my bedroom. “Just a wellness check-in! Your mom called and asked me to stop by, and well, I just wanted to stop by, too, after what happened with the show.” She kept her voice loud, and there was a slight tremble in it as she searched for me. “So, if you are here, can you just make a loud noise? Because the idea of walking in on you and finding you not okay is too much for my anxiety.”

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. “Here!” I shouted. “In my bedroom.”

I swore I heard Kelly’s sigh of relief rocket throughout the space.

She hurried over to my bedroom and gave me a slight smile as she stood in the doorway with a coffee in her hands. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. The puffiness under her eyes showcased her exhaustion.

“Hey, Oliver.”

I nodded once as I sat on the edge of my bed. “Hey.”

She walked over to me and sat down. She handed me the coffee. “Coffee, no whiskey.”

“Then what’s the point?” I joked.

“You okay?” she asked me.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe.”

I lowered my head and fiddled with my fingers. Over the past few months, I’d told myself what I was dealing with wasn’t depression but just a temporary sadness that would go away over time. When time passed and it didn’t shift, I knew it was something I’d have to deal with for the rest of my life. Somehow, after Alex passed away, I felt . . . emptied.

I didn’t even know if “depressed” was the word for how I felt. Yet all I knew was that there was an emptiness inside of me and I hadn’t a clue how to fill that vacant place. I felt as if I were walking on broken glass, and I didn’t even feel the pain from the cuts. Everything was numb, everything was mute, everything was meaningless.

I wanted the pain of losing my brother to go away. That was why I drank, to keep those thoughts from surfacing, but the whiskey didn’t kill the struggles; it only temporarily hid them. When the whiskey faded, the pain came back stronger than ever.

“What makes you happy, Oliver?”

My mouth parted, but no words came out. Hell. I had no clue.

Kelly frowned. “What about music? Does music make you happy?”

I stayed quiet.

“Do you really not want to do music anymore? Like, if that is something you’re not interested in, then fine, let it go. But I’ve known you for so long, and I feel like music is the biggest part of who you are.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Then why are you pushing it away?”

I shrugged my shoulders and cleared my throat. “I don’t know how to do music without having Alex doing it beside me.”

Her eyes glassed over, and I felt bad for making her feel bad. Kelly missed Alex in a different way than I did, and I knew she was struggling. She was still going through the grieving process, but she’d never voice it to me. Maybe because she felt it would be too hard to talk about. Maybe because she hadn’t yet found the words to express her pain.

She pushed a smile through her lips and nodded her head once. “Do you know what would make Alex the saddest person?”

“What’s that?”

“Knowing you pushed your music away. He’d want you to embrace it, not run from it. He’d want music to be what fueled your tank after running for so long on empty. So, honestly, I think the best way you can honor your brother is by doing what you love the most. Oliver, you gotta let the music in. I think it’s the only thing that is going to heal you. I don’t know what happened at the concert, Oliver, and you don’t have to go into it. All I want to say is, be easy with yourself. You’re still mourning a big loss.”

“I thought I could trick myself into doing the show, but I panicked. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“No one blames you for what happened. At least not anyone that truly matters. Tyler and the PR team already did damage control and fixed the narrative. I’m just thankful for the woman at the bar who brought you to safety. It could’ve ended up much worse.”

Thank goodness for Emery.

“I feel bad for her, though,” Kelly continued. “The paparazzi has been at the place trying to get an exclusive interview with the bartender from that night, but it was reported that the owner fired her for the disruption that happened.”

“She was fired?”

“Yeah. At least that’s what’s being reported.”

Shit.

Emery was already struggling with life in her own ways. Leave it to me and my demons to make her life even worse off.

“I gotta go handle something,” I said abruptly, shooting up from my bed.

Kelly arched an eyebrow. “Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“I have to make something right, that’s all.”

“Okay, well if you need anything, let me know. I’ll get back to answering these emails for you and all that jazz.”

“Thanks, Kelly.” I started to head out of the room but paused as I looked back to my assistant. Behind her organization and kindness, I saw it. Her pain. I wasn’t the only one mourning the death of my brother, that was for sure.

It was no secret that she and Alex had been getting closer and closer each day before the accident. I wondered what they would’ve been if they’d had more time. I wondered if they were supposed to be a love story with a happy ending. I wondered if she blamed me for his death like the rest of the world did.

She was his type to a T too. A beautiful woman with a heart of gold. During her free time—which was limited—she was either volunteering at food shelters, giving back to the inner city, taking part in equality protests, or meditating for better tomorrows. They were so much alike—she and my brother. Shit, she and Alex were probably meant to be, up until life got in the way.

Kelly never showed her sadness in front of me over the loss of Alex. She simply handled every angle of my life with care and tact. She never brought up the shit that the rest of the world brought up and did her best to make my life easier. I wished I could do something to make her life easier too. Because I was sure when she did grieve, she crumbled on her own.

“How are you doing, Kelly? You know, with everything. How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

She laughed. “Maybe.” She brushed her hand against the back of her neck and gave me a smile that was soaked in sadness. “I’m still breathing, though, and I’ll call that a win.”

That seemed so simple, but oddly enough I’d found breathing to be one of the hardest things as of late.

“All right. Keep breathing. Did you eat breakfast today?” I asked.

She shifted a little in her seat, which was enough of an answer for me. “I have time before I have to handle this. Let’s get breakfast.”

“Oliver, I’m fine,” she said warily. I wondered how many times a day humans lied to one another about being okay.

“Yeah, I know you are. Now come on. Let’s go get breakfast.”