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kamandzak · 6 years

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Excerpt - Letters From Ernest

I started a new book, y’ll

Here’s chapter 5

Synopsis: Aoife Walsh's parents have raised her and her brother through means that are not the best; convinced that everything can be chalked up to teenage laziness, the two parents run their successful business and hound their children to an unhealthy degree. But when Aoife's brother commits suicide, everything changes and it's up to her to unpack the demons her brother kept inside.

“Aoife what do you mean? We’ve been over this before; it wasn’t your fault. It was nobody’s fault.”

“Stop saying that!” I shouted at Phil and he closed his mouth, sliding his chair away from me. Never before had he seemed so taken aback.

Mr. and Mrs. Cameron had met in college, when they were friends with my parents. After school, they got married just a few months apart and when Phil’s mom got pregnant with his older sister, Penelope, they bought a house and moved a few cities away to Hamish. A house down the street went up for sale a year later and mom and dad bought it. Two years later, Ernest was born, and then within months of each other, Phil and I were brought into the world. We were as close to one another as siblings.

This was the first time in all seventeen years of our lives that I had dared to yell at him.

“I didn’t mean to-.”

“Remember my actual birthday two weeks ago? We couldn’t go out because I had a tournament the next day.”

“Right.”

“Before I left that Saturday, Ernest said he had a birthday present for me that he hadn’t wanted to give me in front of our parents. It was a big box, and he told me to take in on the bus and open it then and I did. Remember what was in it?”

“Of course. It was all of his Clansmen stuff.”

“Right. His signed set list from the one time mom and dad actually let him go and do something, his shirts, his CD’s and their EP record that was the reason for him to buy a record player. He gave me this ring too, remember?” I took the circle of metal off my finger and slammed it on the table. “He gave me something that meant something to him; something that he wanted to go to a good home. He knew then, Phil! He knew that he was going to do something and he wanted to make sure things he cared about ended up in the right hands!”

“What makes you say this?”

“Because he did the same thing with Coach! He gave him back the CD from freshman year with all the music on it. And you know what he told Coach? Ernest said that he realized he ‘shouldn’t need music to feel motivated’. It sounds so much like mom it makes me want to throw up. Coach told me today… he said that he thinks Ernest knew what he was going to do and that he wanted to make sure the CD ended back with its owner. Ernest told him that maybe he could give the CD to another athlete who was worth helping. Why didn’t I see it?” I cried out, attracting the attention of other students. “Why did I open that box and think that my brother - the biggest Clansmen fan I know - giving away all his Clansmen gear was a perfectly natural thing?”

All the while, Phil was throwing our half-eaten lunches into their boxes. As I panted against the panic, he grabbed my arm and my backpack and pulled me out of the lunchroom and into an abandoned classroom.

“What other stuff has he given away to people? What if he left things for mom and dad and they never realized either? Why didn’t I say something to him?” The same explosion of emotion I had seen in Eva in the early hours of the morning finally escaped from my chest days after losing Ernest. “What if I could have saved him?”

Phil said nothing. Instead he stood next to me, hand on my hunched shoulders, backpacks and lunchboxes hanging from his hand, slumped against the floor.

Eventually he dropped them and held his left hand towards me, sticking his pinky in front of my face, the Clansmen ring wrapped around it snuggly. I tugged it off and placed it in my pocket.

“We shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly.

“But there’s no one in the room s-.”

“I meant here. At school. We shouldn’t be here. We need time. Or at least, you need time.”

“Mom’ll never buy it. Can you imagine what she’d say?” A little worry and panic was beginning to fill me up. “And I definitely can’t miss practice. There’s another tournament and-.”

“Aoife, Ernest is dead,” Phil said bluntly. “Not even Superman himself would be able to deal with it without taking some time.”

“Should I call home?”

“I think so, yes.”

Dad answered the phone, which surprised me. I figured after hitting the voicemail, I’d be forced to all one of them at work.

“Hello?”

“Dad?”

“Aoife? Is everything okay?”

“I think I need to come home?”

“Okay. I’ll come pick you up.”

The line went dead and I stared at Phil with surprise.

“Dad’s coming to pick me up. He didn’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I’ll go tell your teachers,” Phil said, turning without a comment on dad’s weird behavior. I wandered down the hallway near the nurses office and the guidance department, reading the postings on the wall to distract myself.

I glanced in one of the rooms and saw Nurse Ellie sitting in front of her computer, filling out a form. My first period had been in sixth grade, when Nurse Ellie was at the middle school. She had helped me.

“Hello?” I knocked on the doorframe. She looked up and immediately her face read of sadness. She rose and pulled me into the office and into her arms.

“I’m so sorry, Aoife,” she said into my hair. “Coach came and told me.”

“He did?”

“He did. We were both a little worried about your brother at one point and talked about it a little.”

“What did he do? Why were you worried?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you,” she hesitated.

“Is there anything you can tell me? I’m trying to figure out what happened.”

Nurse Ellie looked nervously around her room before her eyes seemed to land on something behind me. I turned and came face-to-face with a closet.

“I supposed there’s really no reason for me to have this anymore, is there?” she asked, though it seemed she was talking to the air around us. She reached in the closet and pulled out a piece of clothing. My heart stopped.

Ernest’s jacket.

“Why do you have that?” I choked out as she handed it to me. It still smelled like him.

“He came to give it to me last week. He said he was feeling better and didn’t need it anymore.”

“When was he not feeling good? What did he mean?”

Nurse Ellie smiled at me sadly and pulled a tissue from the box, poking at the corners of her eyes under her glasses.

“I can’t talk about it. Why are you here, Aoife?”

“I’m waiting for dad. He’s coming to take me home.”

“It’s all a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

From down the hallway I could hear dad’s voice asking for me. Times like these made me thankful that we only lived a few blocks from the high school.

“Yeah.”

The short drive home was silent. I wanted to know why dad was at home. I wanted to know why he hadn’t objected to my request to come home. I wanted to know so many things but as I held Ernest’s jacket in my lap, all I could do was breathe.

We pulled into the garage and I saw the empty space where dad’s ladder lived. As far as I knew, it was still in Ernest’s room. The frayed end of the rope spool hung against the shelf, blown around by the air vent directly to the right. As we walked up the stairs and into the living room, I saw the gray mark across the wall where the ladder had scraped the paint.

The house was silent. Dad’s laptop and work cell phone were on the dining room table. On the large television was a paused image of a tall man in glasses. He was reading from a book.

“What’s that?” I asked at last.

“Just listening to a sermon.”

We hadn’t gone to church in years. Mom and dad wanted one day a week, they had told Ernest and I, of no obligations. They overworked, spending weekdays visiting clients and weekends reviewing floor plans and contracts and colors for their construction and interior design business.

“Why?”

“It’s nice to remember that something is bigger than you. Where did you find that jacket?” dad asked, voice cracking as he sat down.

“School,” I said, avoiding the real location. Until I knew exactly why Nurse Ellie had Ernest’s jacket in her closet, I couldn’t subject dad to the knowledge that Ernest was much more screwed up than any of us thought.

“Do your teachers know that you left?”

“Phil told them.”

“Mom’s at a site and she’ll be out late.”

“Is that why you’re home?”

Dad looked at me with flat, dead eyes.

“I couldn’t work in the office. Have Phil come over here and we’ll have chicken.”

“We have chicken?”

“Pastor Nolan brought some over. He brought three meals and some DVD’s,” he gestured to the television.

“That was nice of him.”

“I know. Make sure Phil comes over. I don’t like the idea of you having to be by yourself. Go listen to some of that band you love so much.” I burst into tears and dad looked up, alarmed. “What?”

“Ernest loved them?” I quasi-asked before leaving the room. I wasn’t sure if I wanted dad to follow me down the hallway or not but when he didn’t, I wasn’t disappointed.

Aoife:

dad says come over after school

moms working late and pastor nolan

brought us dinner

dad says he doesn’t want me to be alone

Phil:

will do

but i legit have homework that i don’t

know how to do

so will you help me?

Aoife:

of course, nerd

I had hours before Phil would be at our doorstep with our customary once-a-week slurpees and a backpack full of homework so I opened my computer, pulled up the playlist Ernest and I had aptly named clansmen, but slow and sad. It was just that. I wasn’t sure what to listen to while combing through Ernest’s birthday present to me, but it certainly couldn’t be anything happy.

The bands unique cover of Yesterday by The Beatles was sad enough. I stared at the signed set list, all five of the band members names scrawled in various handwriting. There was Sam, the trumpeter who Phil adored, and Martin the saxophonist, Travis and Dillon and Fred, the older of the five, who played guitar and drums and bass. All the big hits and a few new releases. Mom and dad had let him go for his sixteenth birthday, despite knowing the language at their shows. His birthday was February 24th. He had died a week before he was supposed to turn nineteen.

I didn’t want to stain the list with my sadness so I put it away, pulling out the shirts Ernest had bought over the years, or that had been bought for him. Then there were the CD’s and the records. All of it was here. If there was anything else it was in his room and I didn’t dare to enter. Maybe when I was ready, it would be a sign that I was starting to feel better.

A light knock interrupted my dig and it opened a second later. Phil’s face appeared in the crack.

“Hey.”

He entered and sat down next to me,

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t mean to make you upset. It’s just a lot and I don't know how to handle it? Is this the stuff Ernest gave you?”

“It’s okay,” I leaned into him. “What did my teachers say?”

“They all got it. They said that it’s good for you to take some time to be with your family.”

“Dad worked from home today.”

“I know. I saw he took over the dinner table. Is he watching a church service?”

“Pastor Nolan brought some DVD’s over when he brought over the dinners. I think it makes him feel better.”

Dad appeared in the doorway where Phil was moments before and knocked quietly.

“Want some dinner, you two?”

“Sure.”

The dinner was good; chicken with potatoes and green beans. I barely had the energy to chew.

“Aoife?”

“Yes, dad?”

“Do you want to stay home from school for a few days?”

I choked on my food.

“Do I want to do what?”

“Stay home. Your mom and I talked this morning. She wants you to continue your practices and assignments but I can’t help but think it might be best if you stay home for a little while. I went to work today and couldn’t sit still. I needed to be here. I thought maybe we could hang out. You could do your homework while I do my work and then we could just spend some time together.”

“I… yeah,” I breathed out, at least over the shock of my fathers suggestion. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“You can come over whenever, as long as it’s not during school,” dad said to Phil. “To be honest you’re as much of a child to me as my children are and were. It’s nice to have you around.”

“That’s very nice of you to offer. I know nothing about the math I’m supposed to be learning so I’ll probably come over and beg Aoife to teach me.”

We dissolved into a little forced laughter and continued to eat, the food tasting more like food than bland mush. My phone beeped and I jumped a bit before continuing to eat.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” dad asked.

“But it’s the dinner table.”

“You can read it if you want.”

Phil:

i have THOUGHTS about what is happening rn

“Anything interesting?” dad asked as I looked up.

“Just a spam email,” I mumbled as Phil put his phone back in his pocket and patted my leg.

“Do you all have homework tonight?”

“Yeah. We’ll go do that in a little bit.”

“What were you doing in your room beforehand?”

It was such a weird thing, watching and listening to this new dad in front of me. He had the same curiosity as he and mom always had about what Ernest and I would do, but he was letting me check my phone at the table and encouraging me to take a break and telling me that he loved me. I wasn’t going to complain but still… it was like I had an imposter dad.

“Just listening to Clansmen.”

He nodded and ate, our faces still illuminated by the tall, bespeckled man.

I heard the door open and mom come in right as Phil and I were settling into the basement. Before we got to today’s assignments, we had to talk about dad. Phil was practically bouncing up and down in his seat as I cracked the door so we could snoop on them when the time was right.

“So what are your thoughts?”

“I think he’s realizing that something him and your mom did messed with Ernest.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He’s changing, isn’t he? He’s easing up on you, he’s telling you he loves you… he’s becoming a new dad because he’s afraid if he doesn’t, you might end up like your brother. He’s terrified.”

“You really think so?”

“I do,” Phil flopped around in the old gray bean bag on the floor so he was staring at me upside down. “I don’t think he has any idea of what he’s doing, but I think he’s trying and that’s admirable.”

“What should I do? Is there anything I can do to help him?”

“The next few days, when it’s just the two of you, try and talk to him about life. Talk about things you wouldn’t normally and see what happens. And then report everything back to me.”

“Obviously. The only thing I’m a little worried about is not going around and finding out more from everyone at school.”

“It’s only a few days. You can come back to school next week and resume your detective work. The way you cried after lunch isn’t something that you should keep in. If your mom is going to make it hard for you to grieve, do it when you’re with your dad. Something tells me he won’t make you feel bad for feeling bad.”

“You did what??” we heard from the upstairs and Phil and I immediately clammed up, inching towards the door.

“I told her she could stay home with me for the rest of the week. I’ll make sure all of her work gets done, trust me. She can work while I’m working.”

“I thought we agreed that it’s best if she keeps a normal routine; if we keep a normal routine. I didn’t even know you were home today! What were you doing? Did you cook?”

“Pastor Nolan brought some food by.”

“And tried to make you go back to services, right?”

“No. He brought some DVD’s that I put on as I was finishing my work. Aoife called halfway through the day and asked to be picked up.”

“And you actually did it? What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that she hasn’t been given the time to feel sad yet, Mandy! None of us have. It’s just a few days before the weekend and then she’ll go back and see her teachers again. She needs time. This isn’t something that we just put behind us. This is huge.”

“So why is it that I can go back to work but she can’t go back to school?”

“Because she’s seventeen. She’s still learning how to handle things! Hell, I’m fifty and I’m not even sure how to handle this.”

“Well-.”

“Please don’t make this all about you. Please. People process grief in different ways and I don’t think we should force our daughter to go to school when there’s still so much going on and so much to figure out. Are we going to cremate him? Are we having a funeral? Does your family even know? Or are you so ashamed that your son killed himself that you are keeping it all inside. That’s not healthy, Mandy.”

“How dare you assume I’m ashamed of him.”

“How dare I? Really? You’re asking me this after you talked about his future like he was some sort of idiot? You sat around, talking about how you were expecting him to not do well; you sat around talking about how he was a poor representation of your parenting abilities. It’s like I said when we got back from the hospital… this kind of thing doesn’t just happen. There are reasons Ernest felt like he couldn’t go on living. Maybe we need to accept the fact that we didn’t do the best we could. Maybe we need to consider that we didn’t parent him right.”

“And what about Aoife? She’s doing just fine!”

“When has she ever said anything other than she’s fine? Maybe we conditioned her to say that even when she’s not! I’m not going to lose her too!”

The sounds of my mothers heels on the hardwood floor echoed in the basement as I listened to her cross the kitchen and open the fridge.

“I’m not going to deal with this anymore,” she said in that tone that sent chills down my spine every time. “I’m going to shower and go to bed. What you do this week is your own business, I guess. But don’t go thinking that we did a bad job.”

“But we did.”

“We did not. Remember when we first met and we realized that we agreed on parenting style down to a tee? I loved that about us. What’s happened to change you?”

“I no longer have a son. That’s what happened. I just thought maybe you’d change a little too. I thought his life meant more to you than proof you could raise acceptable children. Ernest wasn’t a project; he wasn’t an experiment. He was a human being and we don’t have him anymore.”

I screwed my eyes shut at the sound of my dad’s voice fracturing and my mom’s work shoes ascending the stairs to their room, tears leaking from my eyelids.

“What’s happening?” I whispered.

“Grief,” Phil whispered back.

#new novel #excerpt #letters from ernest #novel #novelist #author #writing #writer #tw suicide #young adult #ya fiction

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