Symphony of Sound.

Except, Rian doesn’t call him tomorrow. Or the day after. Or the day after that.

Eventually, it’s Christmas Day, and Rian still hasn’t called Zack and the younger is about ready to explode with fear because his reaction was obviously bad.

He and the rest of the family are just about to sit down for dinner (comprised of Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Gabriel’s famous stuffed turkey and, as Andy puts it ‘their awesome turkey juice sauce') when Zack’s phone vibrates violently on the table.

Zack tears his eyes away from the camera that Holly had bought him (as she is the only one in the family who really understands his passion for photography that his father makes him suppress) for a few seconds as he takes in the ‘1 new message: Jack B (Mobile)’ that flashes up on his screen.

He sets the camera down (it’s a big, expensive Nikon model and he can’t help but ponder how on earth Holly and John managed to afford it) to open the text.

He laughs when he sees it, rolling his eyes a little at the photograph he’s met with.

It’s of Alex and Jack, standing on the verge beside the junior block, at least ankle deep in snow with flush faces and umpteen layers of woollen clothing on.

Check it out, less snow than usual! Happy Christmas. Miss you bro. xx J

Zack laughs again, standing and wandering outside to find Andy sitting on the porch in a tee shirt and shorts, flip flops on his feet and sunglasses over his eyes.

“Andy, pose for a photo with me. I need to rub the great weather in the faces of the idiots stuck in Maine.”

“What’s it doing over there?” Andy asks before sticking his tongue out at the camera, his attitude working perfectly with the smug smile on Zack’s face as he snaps the photograph on his cell phone.

“Snowing. Again. It does every year.” Zack says, pressing ‘Send via SMS’ on his phone and typing out a message back.

Check it out, losers. Bright sunshine and family. Happy Christmas, idiots. Miss you more. xx Z

“I see why you came home now.” Andy replies with an appreciative laugh. Zack nods, a soft smile edging its way onto his features.

“Dinner!” Holly’s voice echoes from through the kitchen window, and Zack and Andy turn away from the porch and the pretty spectacular view they have of the back garden in favour of freshly cooked food.

They take their seats around the table; Zack between his father and Andy, who sits beside his younger sister Emily. Holly and John sit opposite Zack and Andy, with Gabriel and Carolyn at either side of them.

“Merry Christmas, you guys.” Holly says with a smile, raising her glass of red wine up into the center of the table.

“Merry Christmas.” Everyone choruses back, knocking their glasses into each other as a unified way of saying ‘this year will be the best yet’.

“Now, damn it, let’s eat!” Andy says with a laugh. His mother gives him a stern look, as if to say ‘don’t swear in front of your sister’ but says nothing.

Long after dinner is done, Zack is enjoying wandering around his aunt’s home, taking photographs of everything and everyone he comes across along the way –including the family pet, a seven month old sand coloured shiba inu puppy that Emily has insisted naming Biscuit.

His father, Mark, finds him on the floor of the upstairs landing with the puppy rolled onto its back as his son rubs his belly gently. The puppy pants and wriggles happily, trying to pet at the teen’s hands with his small paws.

“Zack, do you want to go and see your mom?” He says, crouching down to his son’s level and pausing to stroke the puppy’s soft stomach.

“Yeah. I think we should, Dad.” Zack replies, standing and making sure his camera is secure around his neck.

“Do you want to go now, or in a while?”

“I think we should go now. You can talk to her first, if you want. I think I’m going to be a while this year.”

His father nods, and not even half an hour later, they’re in the car on the way to the cemetery just outside of Anaheim where his mother is buried.

Zack sits and waits in the car while his father talks to his wife, and flicks through all of the photographs he’s taken so far today. He has a fair few of Holly, he notices, several of which will make for excellent blackmail material should he ever need it.

The driver’s side door opens and his father takes the seat beside him, giving his son a small nod. He’s been crying.

Zack stands, shuffles his way out of the car and walks around the few corners and bends until he reaches his mother’s headstone.

He sits down, crossing his legs, at the end of the grave plot, his eyes fixed on the worn stone with his mother’s detail engraved into it.

Erin Merrick
February 12 1969 – April 21 1994
You may be gone, but you will never be forgotten.
Mother, sister, wife.

“Hey, Mom. I know you’re probably getting sick of me talking to you as much as I am doing lately. Sorry about that. I kind of, just, need someone to talk to that I know I can trust, you know? You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? I thought not. Thanks, Mom.”

“So, first things first, I’m in like with someone. Except it’s more than just ‘like’. I’m pretty sure it’s love, by this point. It’s not common to cry profusely over people you just ‘like’, is it? I didn’t think so. So I’m in love, then. You know Rian? I’ve told you about him before. He’s supposed to be my best friend. It’s him.”

“He’s just, I don’t know, more important to me than he probably should be. I probably shouldn’t let him in any further, but I don’t want to shut him out. I wish he’d notice me more. I mean, it’s not that he doesn’t notice me; it’s more that he notices me in the wrong way –not in the way I want him to. It’s difficult. It hurts, to be honest.”

“What would you do, Mom? I know you’d probably tell me to bite the bullet and go for it, so I wrote him a letter explaining how I felt and gave it to him, since I miss his birthday. I told him to call me, but he hasn’t. I guess that means he’s not interested in me, either like that or all together. I don’t… I don’t know if I can handle that, Mom.”

“Yeah, I’ll be upset if he doesn’t feel the same way about me, obviously, but I think I’ll be more upset if he isn’t even interested in being friends after he finds out. He didn’t… He didn’t seem that repulsed when I told him I liked guys, did he? I don’t remember what his face was like, I was too preoccupied with the fact that he wasn’t screaming at me that he hated me and that I was disgusting, that sort of thing. You were there, though, he seemed okay with it. Right?”

“I don’t even know any more, Mom. It just hurts, more than anything else. I haven’t heard from him in over a week, nearly ten days, and he promised he’d call me at least twice. He hasn’t even sent me a text or an email yet, let alone spoken to me. I’m worried about him, I guess. I know it’s not really my place to worry any more –he has Cassadee for that. She’s taken over everything he used to stand for.”

“But, in lighter news, I got the solo in Spring. I killed it, apparently –that means I did well, in case you didn’t know.” Zack says with a small smile, observing the headstone in front of him almost fondly. “And I managed to make a new friend, too, and you know how difficult that is for me. His name’s Evan. He’s really sweet. I think you’d like him.”

Zack stands, stumbling to his feet and forcing his eyes up to the eerily blue, cloudless sky. He snaps a quick photograph, squinting against the harsh sunlight and letting his camera hang against his chest.

“It was nice talking to you, Mom. I hope next time we talk, I have better news for you. Or at least, I sound a little bit happier.” Zack says with a small, barely audible sigh. “I hope I’m making you proud, wherever you are.”

He’s about to walk away and back to the car when he pauses, looks back at his mother’s gravestone and smiles weakly, casting his eyes up at the sky again.

“I love you. Merry Christmas.”

For as long as Zack can remember, any Christmas he has come home from school, they have visited his mother, to speak with her and tell her the news from the passing year. And when he’s not come home, he’s holed himself up in his room for at least ten minutes of the day to talk to her, let her know that he’s okay and still thinking of her, even on holidays, just like every day.

It’s a little odd, he guesses, but he doesn’t really care all that much. It’s his mother, and she’s important to him, no matter whether she’s no longer in his life or whether she’s still there.

And it’s when he sits back into the passenger seat of the car and his father forces him a weak smile, he knows it’s worth it, if only because it keeps the family together.