Breaking Down the Unbreakable

"You know, you have a really good voice." He leaned back a little resting on his hands and smirking.
And I didn't know what to do. There I was in a towel, with a gorgeous guy sitting on my bed, waiting for me to say something. Of course, not thinking clearly, I said the only thing I could think of.
"What are you doing in my room?" Tactless, yes. But my mind wasn't working!
"Oh, your grandpa said I could come up. I don't think he realized you were in the shower." That stupid smirk wouldn't leave.
"Oh, right. Ok, better question. What are you doing at my house?"
"Oh, that. Your grandpa invited us over for dinner, and my mom sent me over early because he said he and Avery needed help with something."
"Then go help them!" And leave me alone!
"Oh, I already did. He just wanted to move some furniture around downstairs." That smirk was getting wider. Something had to be done. "So why don't you sing more?"
"I sing every day. I'm in your class!" I think he's got the thickest skull I've ever seen.
"I mean so people can hear you."
"Because no one needs to hear me." I sucked up the fact that he was sitting there staring at me with that stupid smirk on his face and grabbed some clothes to put on.
I walked back into the bathroom and put on my clothes, shook some of the excess water out of my hair and came back to find him looking around my room.
"Who's this?" He picked up a blue picture frame with a black and white photograph in it.
"My mom." I took it out of his hands and held it in my own, walking away from him.
"Is she with your dad?"
"Not exactly." I sat on my bed, placing the photograph on my bedside table. She'd always been close by when we traveled. Constantly afraid I'd do something crazy.
"Then where is she?" He sat next to me and I knew he was watching me, but I kept looking at my mother's eyes.
"She died." I bowed my head, watching my fingers as I picked at my nail polish.
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault." I whispered. "I don't know why people say they're sorry when they find out."
"It's just to let you know they feel bad about your loss." He placed a hand on my shoulder, but I shot off the bed and stepped away from him.
"That doesn't do anything!" I was looking away from him to the wall where I had other pictured hanging.
"I know, but that doesn't mean I can't try to help." I heard him stand, and turned to face him.
"Sorry does nothing! It won't bring her back! It wouldn't cure her! All it does is remind me that she's gone. And I can't get her back."
I took a few steps to walk out of the room, but he hurried and grabbed my wrist. I didn't want to talk about this. I was supposed to be finding him out. Not the other way around.
"Riley, I'm here if you want to talk."
"Why should I talk to you, Seth?" I knew it was harsh, but my conversational skills were down ever since I'd seen him sitting on my bed. "Of all people, you should know about not wanting to talk."
"It's not the same, Riley." He looked away and I pulled my wrist from his hand.
"It doesn't matter, Seth." I looked up at him. "I'd think that after what happened last night, you of all the people I've ever met, would understand that when you don't want to tell someone something, you aren't going to."
I stood, looking at him as he stared at the floor and I felt bad for snapping at him. And for whatever reason, my mouth opened, I took a deep breath, and I found myself telling Seth, the guy who had walls stronger than anything invented by the CIA, about my past and my life.
"She had cancer." I stayed where I was, staring at him as he stared at the floor. "We found out 3 years ago, while we were in Washington. She went in for a check-up."
He lifted his head and looked at me, but I wasn't seeing him anymore. I had disappeared into my memory. It was a memory I rarely visited while I was awake, and feared visiting in my sleep, but there I was.
"It was just supposed to be a check-up. But the doctor found something and he said she needed an MRI. And they found a tumor in her brain. I remember sitting in the waiting room, watching through the window to my mom's room as the doctor told her and my dad. I was 14. There I was. Watching my mom cry in my dad's arms. And suddenly, I didn't want to know what was going to happen. I just wanted to get out."
I felt him walking toward me, but all I saw was the picture of my parents holding each other.
"They said they could remove it, but that it would come back, and they didn't know how long she would have, or when it would come back. And that's when my brother left. My older brother, Jayden. He was 18, and he didn't want to be around while mom suffered, and he never got along with dad, so one day he just left. He stuck a note on my pillow telling me he loved me and he'd contact me, but he never did."
He was right in front of me, but I refused to see him. If I did, I wouldn't be able to say anything.
"So they did the surgery, and she was fine." I shrugged. "Until a year and a half ago, when it came back, and it took over her brain."
I still wouldn't look at him. I felt like the 16-year-old girl again, listening as my dad told me and Avery she was sick again.
"It was a year and a half ago that my mom sat in her hospital bed holding my hand and smiling at me like nothing was wrong. She was losing her speech, and her motor skills. She was turning into a vegetable right before my eyes."
For some unknown reason, I hadn't started crying. I just spit out the words as the memory played in my head like a movie.
"It was a Friday afternoon. I'd come to see her after school and sat next to her bed, reading her the book I had to read for English, when she stopped me. She looked into my eyes and said, 'Angel, I love you. And you'll never be alone, as long as you don't forget me.' She sounded like she'd been drunk for days and she was slurring her speech. She knew she wasn't going to last any longer, and she told me to tell everyone she loved them." I chocked on the words that were coming out, but I had to tell him. I had to let him know that I did understand when life bites you in the ass.
"I was the last person to see her alive. I was the one who listened to her last words. I was the one who watched her drift away from life as if she was falling asleep smiling."
I felt his hand on my shoulder, but I didn't react.
"My dad never looked at me the same after that. I knew he didn't blame me, but for whatever reason he thought he should have been the one to see her go. And eventually it killed me inside so much, that I told my grandpa we had to get away from him, because he wasn't the same dad anymore. He didn't need me as a reminder of the pain every day."
I finally looked up into his eyes and saw he was looking right back.
"Just because I hold it together on the outside, doesn't mean I lead a cookie-cutter life full of smiles and joy. And don't think I won't understand problems."
He pulled me into his chest and held me. I wasn't going to cry, but it was nice to know he was there for me.
"Why don't you sing anymore?" He whispered it into my hair so quietly I barely heard him.
"The last time I sang was the day she died. I sang her song while she died. The song she would sing to me when I had a bad day or just needed her around. And I'm not sure I can sing for anyone anymore."
"When you fall off a horse, you have to get back in the saddle." He looked down at me and smiled. "You've got an amazing voice, and you look like you enjoy singing."
"I do. But I don't think I can sing without her."
"Your mom wouldn't want you to ignore your talent. You have a lot of power in your hands. And my guess is you could do something amazing with that voice of yours."
"I don't think I know how anymore."
"You know, you don't have to do it alone." He smiled at me.
"The big badass on campus is going to help the new bitch in town sing in front of people again?"
"You're not a bitch." He leaned his forehead against mine. "And I think I could do that. But on one condition."
"What would that be?"
"Sing for your mom?"