My name is Sawyer Weston. It used to be important to me that people knew who I was. Not because of my fame—no, this need for individuality came shortly after birth. All my life I’ve been the B side of a pair, my brother Noah was side A.
I’ve always been somewhat resentful being the second on a team of two. Often wondered how my life would be different if I’d been born first. Would I have been like Noah? Or would I still be me?
As kids, one of the things that annoyed us most was being dressed alike. Our parents thought it was funny and cute. God love them, it wasn’t funny. Cute? Maybe, but it was completely unnecessary for us since we’re not even identical twins.
Even though being a twin had its annoyances at times, I’d never trade it for the world. Twinship is incredible. There’s nothing like the love and bond of a sibling, except when it comes to the love of a twin. Being half of Noah and Sawyer was my entire life, almost like having an extra layer of skin. No one in the world knew me as completely as Noah did and vice versa.
At a young age, I began speaking up and making my identity distinct. I became the blunt one—the twin who didn’t give a fuck and did whatever made him happy. It worked for us. Noah and I balanced each other perfectly in most ways. Unfortunately, even though we looked different, our tastes in women were the same. We’d managed to avoid any problems until Marilyn came along, and things would have been fine if she hadn’t pitted us against each other. It took some work and a lot of forgiveness, but Noah and I recovered. Until I met her—the only woman who’d ever turned my world on its axis. She made me question everything I’d ever been and everything I wanted to become. But she fell for Noah’s goodness, and he loved her the way every woman deserves to be loved. It was a struggle for me in the beginning, but you’d have to be dead inside not to be drawn into the magic that was Mel and Noah’s romance.
After the accident happened, I was in agony. It felt as if that extra layer of skin was violently stripped from my body. All the years I’d spent pretending nothing fazed me came barreling back at me with a vengeance. Fate gave me the biggest “fuck you” when she stole Noah, Belle, and Harold from our world. Nothing had ever hurt so much or cut as deep as losing my brother. Losing your best friend isn’t something I’d wish on anyone, but losing a brother? I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on my worst enemy. There’s nothing that can prepare you for a loss of that magnitude, so when those two people are all rolled up into the form of your twin, it’s like losing a part of yourself.
The pain is so raw and visceral, the thought of death becomes appealing because you know, at least then, it will stop hurting. Whenever my thoughts turned to the dark side, I’d think of Nate and Mel; it kept me grounded. God knows Mel wasn’t in her right mind and, for a while, I was terrified she’d never recover. Everyone kept saying how lucky she was to be alive, but they had no idea the hell she’d lived through on that bus. It’s like they didn’t even consider the horror she endured each day as she relived the last moments of her best friend and husband. No one outside of our immediate family stopped to consider she was now a single parent who’d lost the love of her life. But I understood, and I swore I would move heaven and earth to bring Mel back to us. I owed it to us all to try. Keeping my last promise to Noah became my reason for living.
For as long as I can remember, Noah geeked out on planning ahead. The day we got our advances from our first recording deal, Noah had us in with a financial planner. That was Noah, and if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have nearly as much as I do now.
Considering his history, I shouldn’t have been surprised when our friend and attorney, Tony, showed up to Noah’s memorial with videos for us that Noah had made. But I was. I played it cool, but I was shattering on the inside as I held Mel and tried to comfort her. Realizing how fearful he was of his own death cut like a knife. I can’t imagine how much strength it took for him to make those videos, or how difficult it must have been for Tony to keep the knowledge privileged information. Noah had been talking about an ominous feeling he couldn’t shake, but he’d survived a potentially fatal attack. I thought it was stress, and the doctor thought it was a form of PTSD. Noah, with his unflappable belief in fate, knew there was more to it. I’ll never forgive myself for not paying more attention to his fears.
There was no way to truly prepare myself for Noah’s video, but I’d made peace with needing to see it. When I sat down and watched it, my world shifted in more ways than I can begin to explain. I cried for hours. The ache in my heart grew tenfold. Although it hurt more than words can describe, it was the most priceless gift I’d ever received. Having his love, forgiveness, and his wishes laid at my feet sent my mind reeling. It also stoked the simmering flames of desire inside me, sending them into a raging inferno. Every feeling I’d held back and felt guilty for was suddenly granted immunity. The timing was shitty, but the freedom from my unending guilt had the potential to be life-changing.
I’d always known Noah was the better brother, but that video secured his place in sainthood. If heaven actually exists, I know Noah’s got a top spot. His number-one request was for me to take care of Mel and Nate. Like he even had to ask.
Watching the video was overwhelming. Seeing Noah for the last time cemented the knowledge I’d never talk to him again. Sure, there are endless videos of him, us … we’re mega-celebrities. I can see Noah anytime I’d like, but I’ll never have his presence, his attention, or his love ever again, and that’s a hard pill to swallow.
We’d gone through some rough patches the past few years, and his video forced all those feelings to the surface. We tried to resolve our differences, but some things continued to linger unsaid between us. Marilyn, early retirement, and then, the heaviest of all by far … Mel. I’ve got so many regrets and no way to reconcile them.
Once the shock of the video wore off, I made a promise to try to stop hating myself for being the surviving twin. No matter how hard I wished I could trade my existence for Noah’s, it wasn’t happening. Instead, I made a few key choices. The first was to change my attitude. The best way for me to honor my relationship with my brother is to be thankful for every minute I had with him—the good, bad, ugly, and everything in between. I’d been given the best brother in the world, and I never want to forget a moment of our time together. The second choice was to keep journaling, not only to help me through the here and now but also to rewrite my past journals.
We had our ups and downs that last year, but our relationship flourished in a lot of ways as well. Even with all of our issues, we managed to grow and respect each other, and toward the end, I’d never felt closer to him. Realizing that is what made me decide to turn all my journal notes into a true story instead of the ramblings of a crazed musician.
I can list a few other reasons why I’m doing it too. I’m a selfish son of a bitch, and I’m absolutely doing it for my self-preservation—a way to always keep Noah alive and with me. My memory has always been one of my strengths, but one day it won’t be. Writing down our conversations is a way of always remembering my brother. If there ever comes a day when my memories fail me, my words will hopefully be here to refresh them. But I’m also doing it for Mel and Nate. Someday, when Nate is old enough, he should have some way he can learn more about his dad. He shouldn’t have to ask questions or depend solely on casual conversations to get to know Noah. He should be able to experience who his dad was, and a story or a video is second-best to the real thing.
Speaking of Princess … she’s always had questions. Even if she’s never voiced them all, I know they’re lingering in her mind. I thought if she read about all the things she missed, the conversations she never heard and how Noah felt about my feelings for her, maybe it would ease her heart a bit.
After she wrote her story, our story, I knew Nate would have a great point of reference on how his parents fell in love, all of them. I can’t wait until Nate’s old enough to truly understand what a wonderful love story Mel and Noah had. Even with the short amount of time they were given, I’ve never seen a love quite like theirs. Not up until that point anyway. And if Nate doesn’t hate me for falling in love with his mom, he’ll understand our story as well. I hope our words will fill a void for him. Just like I hope our words will also give Cadence a chance to learn more about Belle and how much she and Darren loved each other from the start.
Life can be a vicious bitch, and to this day I would lay down my life if it would bring Noah back. Kids shouldn’t have to grow up without their parents. But Noah believed in fate more than anything, and for his sake, I try to let go of my bitterness and anger. Even if I don’t understand how fate could have wanted this future for him, he seemed to accept it, and that makes him a far better man than I’ll ever be.
Some days, it’s a mindfuck and a half when I try to wrap my head around it all, even all these years later. If Noah hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have the love of my life or my kids. Mel, Nate, Noelle, and our two boys incubating in Mel’s belly now—they’re my everything.
Princess has been helping me with this project. She’s taking all of my journals and working through them with me each day. We’re making this journey together, one page at a time. Most of the time, she’s quiet as she takes it all in. Other times, she asks questions but not many. I wish she’d ask more; I know they’re waiting to come out, and I think they eventually will. She deserves answers, and she’s the only person in the world I’m an open book for. Well … her and Nate. When she offered to help me turn this into a book, I couldn’t refuse; it seemed important to her. The caveat is that it’s not for public consumption. She was more than okay with that. Mel’s focus is having it bound and covered so it can sit next to her books on the shelf. Whatever makes her happy is fine by me. All I care about are the memories contained within staying intact.
Now comes the hard part—getting it all out. I’ve decided to begin at the end for a few reasons. It’s fresher, it’s the most fucked up - but also the absolute best time of our lives, and it’s where all of our stories intersect. Later, I’ll go back and get the early stuff down, but right now, I need to write about Marilyn. In the scheme of things, she was an insignificant part of our lives. But when you look at the picture as a whole, she’s the reason Noah and I had our first falling out. All the early decisions I made about Mel were because of Marilyn. Some days I wonder if I’d never fucked Noah over with Marilyn, would he still be here? Would I have been with Mel from day one? Would that have changed the course of how anything played out?
Enough of this depressing shit, let me tell you about Marilyn so I can talk to you about my favorite subject—my wife, Amelia Weston. And Mom, this book isn’t for you, but if you ever pick it up, just know I’m sorry for not being a better brother.