Almost Easy

When Tyler and I were fourteen, we snuck out of the house to go see a band playing at a local dive bar. We were very obviously underage but for whatever reason, we’d made it past security—we didn’t dare risk ordering drinks. After all, we were there for the music.
I don’t remember the band that was playing but the takeaway was Tyler’s passionate desire to play in a band. It was that specific night that his goals realigned and designed themselves into a fashion of grandeur.
He wanted to be the next Slash. I wasn’t sure if he wanted the lifestyle or just the fame level.
He’d started slaving away at his guitar after that. It wasn’t like he wasn’t already talented—he’d basically been playing since he was old enough to hold a guitar—but it was never enough for Tyler. He needed to be the best at everything he attempted.
It made for one anxious and self-loathing individual. He was always setting the bar so high that it was inevitably unattainable.
How did it come to this? How did we come from that night in the bar, drowning in the vibrations of the crowd, to finally fulfilling his ambitions…and it still wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough.
I was not enough.
“It’s not about how much I love you,” he’d always say after each hospital stay. “My carelessness with my life is not a reflection of how I feel about you. It has nothing to do with you.”
I was trying to convince myself of that every day since his passing; that it had nothing to do with me. It sure felt like it had a lot to do with me. There was nothing to do to shake that feeling—that tinge of guilt that pulled at my sleeve every second of every day to remind me that I wasn’t there.
I’d been flipping through photographs, lingering over the ones where Tyler looked happy. Genuinely happy. They were few and far between but I needed them. I needed to know that there was a time before now when things hadn’t been so grim. I needed to know that my blissful memories had been that for him too.
Our high school prom. We’d gone together since my boyfriend at the time had dumped me for Lucy Hochstedler. She was about as attractive as her last name—I didn’t get it. But I was stoic in my grief of that brief relationship and I trudged onward.
Ty had never had much luck with the ladies, which never stopped perplexing me since he was the total package. He was funny and sweet and handsome to boot. So what if he was a little damaged…who the fuck isn’t?
We were standing on his parent’s stoop, smiling for the camera. Tyler looked dapper in his black tux; I’d had to beg my aunt for weeks to buy me the dress. It was significantly overpriced but it was beautiful and I had loved it.
We looked so happy.
Feeling the stings of the pain, I pushed the pictures away. There was only so much memory that I could muddle through without opening up the floodgates. I needed to be in control.
A knock at the door distracted me from my past.
“Hey,” I said as I pulled open the door for Brian, who’s hair was pushed back behind his ears.
He smirked, “Hey yourself.”
I let him pass me, watching his anatomy with expert surveying skills. He was a nice subject to watch from behind.
He was a welcomed distraction.
“What’s all this?” he asked as he neared my coffee table overflowing with polaroid pictures and prints.
I sighed, “Pictures. I’m feeding the demon, can’t you tell?”
He picked one off of the top and smiled, holding it gently like it was so fragile it might break under his thumbs.
“This is cute,” he cooed, turning the picture so I could see as I neared him. “How old were you guys?”
“I don’t know,” I smiled softly at the memory. “Maybe ten.”
It was from one Hallowe’en’s round of trick or treating. Tyler was a cowboy and I was a witch. I was always a witch.
“I like your hat,” Brian smirked as he set the picture back down onto the table.
“So what’s up, Mr. Haner?” I asked, sinking back down into my couch cushions.
He shrugged, “Thought I’d come check up on you.”
“What a good doctor you are,” I teased. “I’m fine.”
“Forgive me,” Brian replied with raised brows, “but I just don’t know that I believe you.”
I waved him off.
“How was your day?” he asked, seating himself into my big chair. “How was the studio? Get some shit accomplished or what?”
“I yelled at a reporter,” I admitted shamefully. “It was not good.”
Brian laughed, “Been there.”
“I have no patience,” I groaned. “I don’t want to deal with them.”
“Nobody else volunteered to do the media?” Brian asked, irritation in his voice.
“To the contrary, they volunteered me.”
Brian shook his head, “What the fuck? You’re the last person that should be talking to reporters.”
“I agree,” I sighed. “But whatever. What’s done is done. We’re moving on.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded but still looked particularly annoyed. “Record anything?”
“Yeah,” I answered sheepishly. “As much as we could.”
He looked at me expectantly. I guess he had picked up on the hesitation in my voice and the nervous biting of my bottom lip. I knew that I had to ask him for a favor but I wasn’t sure how to. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“So, uh…” I tried, pausing to gather my thoughts.
Brian looked amused, “Uh…? Come on, Peterson; I don’t have all day.”
“Don’t call me that,” I groaned, rolling my eyes. “I, um…we need…we were wondering…”
Brian blinked at me a couple of times, grinning, “I have somewhere to be next week—will we be finished this conversation before then?”
“Shut up.”
“We what, Blair?” he pressed playfully.
“Well…we were talking today about what songs are finished and which songs are not—Austin is talking about cutting a couple of them which is, you know, not cool…”
“Short version,” Brian interrupted teasingly.
“Someone suggested that I ask you to come play on one of our tracks,” I blurted so quickly that I wasn’t sure Brian would even know what I’d said. “So, I said I’d ask but you really don’t need to do it. It’s okay, it isn’t a big deal.”
“Woah, girl,” Brian laughed, hands up by his chest, “Calm yourself.”
I looked at him with great disdain. My anxiety was obviously the takeaway from my ramblings, I guess.
“I’d love to,” he said simply. “When did you need me to swing by?”
I stared at him for a second, trying to process in my mind how I’d managed to stumble upon such a genuinely wonderful human being. He was so caring and always so willing to help me with whatever I needed. Beyond all of our obvious sexual tension, he was a good friend to me and in that moment, I was overwhelmed with gratitude.
Breaking my roots from the couch, I got up and pushed myself into Brian’s lap, planting a gentle kiss on his lips.
“Is that a thank you?” he grinned.
I nodded, “Big thank you.”
“So,” he continued, “when do I need to come by?”
“Whenever, really,” I shrugged. “Ball’s in your court, Synyster Gates.”
Mocking me, he said, “Don’t call me that.”
“But that’s who I need,” I giggled—god it felt good, “Synyster Gates.”
“In the studio or in general?” he asked with one eyebrow raised.
I smiled, “Your choice.”
He pushed his lips to mine, hungrier than my kiss. I let him but I was a little apprehensive. Since the whole Tyler thing, I hadn’t been in the mood for actual romance. I sure wasn’t feeling any stirring in my basement.
I was too numb. I needed time.
I pulled away slowly, sure not to make him feel rejected—that was the furthest thing from my reality.
“I like you,” I said quietly, pushing my forehead against his.
“I know,” he smirked.
Before I could point out that he’d never actually specified that he liked me too, my phone started to ring.
In proper PTSD form, my nerves shot alive. My heart pounded. It wasn’t logical but it was something I dealt with every time the phone rang.
“Hello?” I spoke into the microphone, giving Brian a sympathetic look since I’d abandoned his lap.
“Hi, Blair,” a sad and shaky voice replied. “It’s Margarete.”
My heart sank. It was Tyler’s mother.
“Listen,” she continued uneasily. “I know that I should have called sooner but—”
“No, no,” I cut her off in a panic, “I should have called you. I’m sorry.”
“Honey, no. It’s okay… I understand.”
“How are you?” I asked even though I knew the answer.
She sighed heavily, “One day at a time.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Listen,” she said abruptly, “we’re in town. We came to pack up all of Tyler’s things…”
There was a moment of silence. I dared not disturb it.
“Anyway, we—um…we finally got some things back from the police department. I thought you should know that we have a letter for you. It was with Tyler’s things that the officers took…I don’t know if you want it…I don’t want to upset you.”
“I want it,” I answered quickly.
“We can swing by in an hour or so,” her voice was so broken that it made me teary.
She was a wonderful person—full of love and cheer. She’d always taken me in when my aunt and I got into our battles. She drove us to the movies and to all of our gigs. I loved her like a mother that I didn’t have.
I should have fucking called her.
“Do you still live in the same building?” she asked.
I nodded before realizing she couldn’t see me, “Yes.”
“Okay, Honey; we’ll see you soon.”
“Okay,” I breathed into the phone before hanging it back up.
Brian looked at me with curiosity. I tried not to let me distress show.
“That was Tyler’s mom,” I told him, my mind someplace else. “She’s coming to bring me a letter from Tyler.”
Brian’s face told me that he understood the gravity of the call. He got up and pulled me into his cage of affection; I place that I loved to be. I held him tightly, breathing in his scent. Using his body to calm myself.
“Do you want me to stay or go?” he asked thoughtfully. “What do you need?”
I frowned, “Go, I guess. I should probably spend some time with them alone…Can I call you once they leave?”
“Of course,” he sighed. “I’ll come back if you want.”
“I want,” I smiled as best I could.
My heart was sad to watch Brian go. Every inch of me was begging him to stay—but I didn’t want to be disrespectful. I didn’t want to flaunt a relationship around so soon after the passing of someone I loved. Tyler’s parents deserved my undivided attention.
With Brian around, that was all my mind focused on.
I needed to focus. I readied myself for the inevitable. I knew that this letter would break me. Whether it was a goodbye letter reading as a love letter or a scornful farewell, I knew that it would shake me to my very core.
I needed to be ready.

Notes