Then

Evan ~ 11 years old

LIGHTNING CRACKLES ACROSS THE sky as the damp, thick air sits heavy around me. A storm is brewing and it’s like someone’s turned on an outside light. With the added glow, she’s easy to spot under a tree in the park—not the smartest place to be with lightning.

Almost immediately, we’re plunged back into semi-darkness as earsplitting thunder claps. She doesn’t flinch, oblivious to the approaching storm and me.

Curled into herself, she’s small, lost, unlike the mighty girl she is. Her hands are muddy from ripping out blades of grass, and my heart pangs at how she must feel, how I feel.

A fine mist of rain begins to fall as I crouch and wrap my arm around her. Wordlessly, she burrows into me, her head on my shoulder.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

As she raises her head, her lips curve into a faint smile. It’s nothing like the typical beam of happiness I crave, and grief dampens the usual glimmer in her eyes. There’s only sadness.

There’s a deep ache within me, as if my heart’s been ripped from my chest, and seeing Carys like this deepens the burning pain.

“Do you think they see us?” she asks.

“Who?”

“Pops, and your parents. Do you think they can see us right now?”

“I don’t know.”

While I could lie to reassure her, I won’t. I’d never lie to her, even though I’d do anything to take her pain away.

“Do you believe in heaven?”

“I’d like to, but I’m not sure it exists. Kind of hard to believe after everything…” My voice fades, unable to finish for fear of losing it.

“Ma does. She tells me Pops is in heaven, looking down on us. She says he’ll always watch over us and one day real soon, we’ll see him again. Do you believe that?” Hope and longing lace her words.

“I’d like to.” I hope it’s true.

“Yeah, me too.”

Taking her cold hand, I squeeze before bringing her fingers to my lips and gently blowing to warm them.

“I don’t know what to do.” Her voice is thoughtful, yet anxious.

“What do you mean?”

“Ma hasn’t cried. She’s being strong, for us. I want to help her, but I don’t know how, and Pops… I can’t believe it.” The tears stream down her cheeks. “I know it’s stupid. We buried him. He’s dead, but… it doesn’t feel like it. It’s like he’s away or at work.”

I nod, clueless as to what to say to comfort her. I’m angry, and I don’t understand that either.

“How are you?”

“Fine.”

“Evan, tell me the truth.”

“I guess I don’t believe it either. It’s been five days, but I still think I’m going to see my mom and dad, and Uncle Adam. I want to see them again.”

Her cold palm brushes my cheek with a small, sweet smile for me. Carys is my best friend’s little sister, but she’s always been more than that to me. I don’t have a name for it, and when I try to find one, it frustrates me.

Even with her being three years younger, she’s never been annoying or just a girl to me. I don’t see her that way. It sounds silly, even to my own ears, but she’s always just been mine.

While we’re not related, our families are close. Both my father and Carys’s came over from Ireland as young boys with their families. They met on the boat and from that point on, we’ve been like family.

From the day I held Carys as a baby, felt the small bundle of sweetness in my arms, a peacefulness came over me. I felt like I’d always known her. An instant bond, one I never questioned; it’s natural, easy, and comforting.

But as I grow, I have these new thoughts and feelings about her. They’re confusing, at times strong. She’s larger than life, sweet, brave, and caring. Being near her makes things better, easier, more fun.

“We were supposed to go to the ballgame tomorrow.” Her father always made it a point to spend time with his children, together and one on one.

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, I wanted to go. Pops is the best. He lets me get whatever I want, cotton candy, Coke, you name it, and we don’t tell Ma. It’s our secret.” She smiles almost as big and bright as I’m used to, but then it shrivels and vanishes, likely when she remembers he’s gone forever. “I miss him so much.” Her voice cracks as a lone tear slips from her eye.

“I know — me too. I miss them all so much.” It’s difficult to speak with the growing lump in my throat.

“Is it silly that we miss them so much already? Evan, I don’t know how to do this.”

“Hey, Sweetness, come here.”

Wrapping my arms tight around her, I kiss the top of her now-damp head. Though we’re close, it’s not usually physical like this, but it’s not every day that your parent dies. The even weirder thing is, our closeness doesn’t make me feel strange or stupid. It feels right… good.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ry, Tripp, and Griff running toward us, all in their suits, like me. Patrick — or as we call him, Tripp — and his younger brother, Griffin Townsend, are part of our close-knit group. Tripp’s the same age as Ry and me, and Griff’s close to Carys’s age.

Ry and I share a look. He’s in as much pain as we are, going through a great loss, but protecting his sister is important to him. He’ll be strong for Carys and his ma.

Sitting down on the other side of Carys, he pulls on her free hand, and she glances at her brother and willingly slides into his arms. Before fully giving in, she searches my eyes for something. I squeeze her hand to let her know I’m not going anywhere.

“You okay?” Ry asks his sister.

Griff and Tripp gaze down at the three of us seated on the damp grass. With their matching blond hair and blue eyes, it’s like looking at two versions of the same person. They’re worried, so much so that Griff’s biting on his lip and fidgeting from side to side.

This is the first loss we’ve all had to face. Before, tragedy was just a word, without true meaning. Now, I fully understand, more than I’d ever hoped to. We’re all stumbling through this, not sure what to do or say.

They act uncertain, like they don’t know if they should be here. I catch Tripp’s eye and nod, reassuring him that we need them.

“Yeah,” Carys says.

“Ma’s looking for you. We should get back. Come on, let’s go.” Ry rises, taking her with him.

Standing, I brush my wet behind as best as I can. Carys’s now-muddy black dress and pink leggings streaked with dirt bring me back to earlier in the day, when her mother was getting us ready for the funeral.

As usual, Aunt Siobhan, her mother, and Carys had words. Carys didn’t want to wear a dress, and definitely not a black one. She wanted her pink leggings and her Han Solo and Chewbacca Star Wars t-shirt.

The two of them bickering calmed me—something normal during all the sadness and scariness. It didn’t end well for Carys—she had to wear a dress—but no surprise, she also got her way, slipping on her pink leggings and t-shirt underneath.

Aunt Siobhan gave in the minute her daughter told her the shirt was for Pops. He loved Star Wars, and the shirt was a gift from him. Carys was wearing it for him.

“Hey, let’s go back and play,” Tripp says.

“I don’t feel like playing,” she says.

“We could play Zelda or Super Mario!” Griff says, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“I’ve got a better idea,” I say, and Carys earnestly gazes at me. “Let’s play the Turtles and you get first pick.” I point to Carys.

“Really?” A flicker of joy crosses her face.

We play the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles a lot, both the video game and, in this instance, with costumes with full gear and weapons, which we scored for Halloween. We like to act out our own made-up stories. Usually the boys pick who they want to be first, which means Carys is always April, if we let her play at all. Letting her pick first is huge.

“Only if I get to be Leonardo!” She’s now standing tall, no longer needing the support of her brother, but she’s still holding my hand.

“Of course you do. You want to be the leader so you can boss us around.” I chuckle with a wink.

“No, it’s the katana.” She smirks, one hand now on her hip. “But I like Michelangelo, too. We both like cheese pizza.”

“But…” Griff says. He also likes to be Mikey, if he gets the chance to claim him first. Tripp yanks his arm and Griff shuts his mouth.

“Fine, you’re Leonardo. Come on.” I tug her hand.

We enter the bar, and it’s loud, warm, and packed. In addition to friends and family, patrons and people from the neighborhood have gathered to pay their respects to Adam Wolfe and Ciaran and Maeve Hart. Our families co-own the bar, The Waters, which has been in this neighborhood for over thirty years.

It’s not every day there’s a violent drive-by that guns down three of their own. While everyone talks in hushed tones about what happened, I’ve figured out some by listening to Aunt Siobhan and the police.

A botched hit, that’s what they said. Their murders make no sense. At first, all I could wonder was who would want to kill my parents or Uncle Adam, and most importantly, why. Two Irish bar owners and a mother? From what I’ve gathered, whoever did this got the wrong bar and killed the wrong people.

A restless anger courses through me at their deaths being some stupid mistake. It infuriates me, and my rage climbs up my throat. These dark, crazy emotions scare me. They’re new to me, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to control them.

“There you are! Thank goodness.” Aunt Siobhan hugs us. Her smile is tender, but there’s no sparkle in her eyes. “Where were you? You’re all soaked.”

“We’re fine,” Ry says.

“You’re wet,” she chides, holding Carys’s chin with one hand and running her fingers through her daughter’s damp, long hair.

“Ma, it’s not that bad. It’s just my coat,” Carys says.

“And your hair.” Carys casts her eyes downward and her mother gives up. “Fine. Would you all just do a woman a favor and eat something?”

Looking to Ry and me for support, we quickly agree and she smiles again, bigger and brighter this time, leading us to the table with food.

It’s hard to miss what happened. The signs of the shooting are visible everywhere. Five days ago, this place was a killing field, and until yesterday, it was still a crime scene.

Wide, deep gashes from flying bullets cover every surface like ugly scars, a minefield of violence. My stomach twists at how it no longer feels safe here. I only feel loss and fear. Death is here. At the thought, a shiver runs down my spine.

After eating and our Ninja Turtles game, the other guys play video games. Carys sits quietly in the corner, whereas I fidget. Peering out the window, I see the rain has stopped. I tug on her arm and we slip out of the room.

“Want to go for a bike ride?” Her eyes light up as she nods. “Go change and meet me out back.”

In less than ten minutes, we’re zipping down the streets on our bikes. I hang back a bit to keep an eye on her, and I watch her long, dark locks fly freely behind her, like a trail of ribbons in the wind.

§

Carys ~ 8 years old

WHEN WE LEAVE, THE place is still crowded, but Ma asks the bar’s assistant-manager to close. Once we are home, she lets us sleep in her bed; tucking us in, and kissing us good night.

Our bike ride was fun and made me happy, or maybe it was Evan. Either way, it helped get rid of my sadness, if only for a while.

Evan is kind and caring, always doing things like that, always including me. We’re lucky no one noticed we were gone—we came back to the boys still playing video games, like we never left.

“Can we read for a bit?” I whisper to the boys, pulling out a flashlight and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

Ry groans, but Evan elbows him to shut him up. Evan takes the book and begins to read out loud, or more like whisper, while my brother complains. Evan and I enjoy reading together. Ry usually leaves; his preference is video games.

We just finished The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and while I wanted to read it again the minute we finished, simply loving Huck and Tom, he talked me into The Chronicles of Narnia, and I’m so glad he did. We read for a bit and before long, our lids grow heavy and sleep easily takes us.

I wake to Ma’s arms wrapped around me. Peering up, I see her pretty face is troubled, with the corners of her mouth down and tight creases along her forehead. Her sleep is sad. I snuggle deeper into her arms, hoping my cuddle will help her. Breathing in her sweet lavender scent always puts a smile on my face.

Sucking in a breath, I freeze. I smell Pops on her, clean and fresh, like the forest. She’s wearing his Star Wars shirt. A small sob escapes my mouth, surprising me. I pinch my lips together, wanting to prevent the tears welling in my eyes from falling. I don’t want to wake her. She’ll only hide her sadness and want to take care of me. Who’s going to take care of her?

The bed dips behind me as the boys leave. I want to join them, but don’t want to leave Ma. I won’t leave her alone.

Not too long after, she wakes and gets right to work making breakfast and getting us dressed. Today’s another big day. Our lawyer and the social worker are coming to talk about Evan. Ma said something about guardianship. I don’t really know what it means. All I know is that Evan must stay with us.

We sit quietly in the living room while Ma and Mr. Bell, our lawyer, speak with Ms. Sanders, the social worker. They talk for a long time, Ma’s smiles diminishing the more they talk. I don’t understand, but I don’t like the sounds of ward of the state or until an official guardian can be appointed.

Evan stares into his lap. Gone is the fun boy I love spending time with. I lift his clammy hand into my own lap and our eyes meet. He’s lost, maybe scared. Ry bumps my shoulder, his eyes on Evan. We’re all scared and unsure.

Finally, the adults come to us, all eyes on Evan.

“Evan, it’s time for us to go.” The social worker stands before him.

Ry and I shout, “What? He’s not going anywhere!”

“Wait a minute,” Ma says.

She slips by the social worker, hugging Evan before kneeling in front of him. Ry and I stand on either side of him like guards, protecting him from this woman.

“Evan, dear, you have to go with Ms. Sanders, just for a bit. Mr. Bell has work to do before you can live with us. He’s going to work real fast and get you home to us as soon as possible.” Her eyes are watery.

She’s fighting her tears, and so am I. I’m not a baby. I won’t cry. I hate it when I can’t stop the tears. My tummy hurts, like when I’ve been on a wild ride at the fair, and I’m all twinges and knots on the inside. Again, I’m torn as I rub Ma’s back, trying to be brave and strong, even though I want to cry. Evan barely nods.

“No way,” Ry shouts. “He belongs with us. He’s my brother!” He wraps his arms tightly around his best friend. Evan’s face crumples, but somehow, he stops himself.

“Rylan.” Ma’s voice is stern but warm. “He’s our family. He’s coming back.” She’s trying to convince herself as much as us. “He has to go for now, but he’ll be back soon. You’ll still see him every day at school.”

“This is bullshit!”

Gasping, my hand covers my mouth. Ry just said a bad word. If Ma’s shocked, she doesn’t show it.

“Young man, say goodbye to Evan and go to your room right now.”

Ry nods, with one last hug for Evan. His eyes meet mine before darting away, trying to hide his tears. Without a word, he leaves with his head hung low. He’s in big trouble, but I’m proud of him for sticking up for Evan.

“Evan, we’ll have you back real soon. I can’t promise when, but I can promise you’ll be back for good. You’re our family.” Ma kisses his forehead.

“Come then.” Ms. Sanders takes his hand.

His leaving hurts my heart. I never knew there was such a thing as a broken heart until my father’s death, but now, my chest aches, like someone’s twisting and squeezing everything inside, and breathing is hard to do.

“No!” I shout, my chin wobbling. “He can’t go. He’ll be alone. He can’t, I need him,” I wail, grabbing at him as the woman pulls on his hand. Her bitter eyes make me want to shrink back from her in fear. I don’t like her.

“Carys, honey, he needs to go. Please say goodbye.” Ma’s voice wavers, lips quivering.

Seeing my mother hurting stops my fight. I want to stop this woman from taking Evan, but I don’t want to hurt Ma. She needs me, too.

I’m stuck between two of the people I love the most. I want to yell and scream for Evan, but staying silent would be easier on Ma. I have to believe she’ll do everything she can to get Evan back, but I don’t want him to go. Without him, I won’t be the same. I might die.

“Sweetness.” Evan’s voice breaks through my muddled thoughts. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Evan, I’m with you. I’ll follow you anywhere, even into the dark.”

He first said those words to me when I was wedged between fences during a game of tag. While Ry ran to get help, his words calmed me and made me feel safe when I was scared. I only hope I’m doing that for him right now.

His arms wrap me in a warm, long hug and his lips lightly graze my forehead. All too soon, he breaks away and heads for the door, never looking back.

Running in the opposite direction, I tumble upstairs to my room and fling myself onto my bed. Sobbing into my pillow, the blues take over—my fears, anger, loss, and sadness, all my tears.

I miss my pops. I’ll never see him again. I miss Uncle Ciaran and Aunt Maeve, and most of all, my heart hurts for Evan. We told him he’d never be alone, that he would be with us, but now, he’s more alone than he was yesterday.