Pieces of a Life

Alex went home after the wake and for the most part forgot about the girl in the bright dress he’d seen. Rian went home and knew he’d have to tell him eventually who the girl was, but the bigger issue was figuring out when the right time would be to do that. All the other people at the wake went home and huffed and puffed around, annoyed that this whole business wasn’t over with yet, wanting to know what share they got so they could leave with it. And Leila went home to her big house all by herself and came to terms with the fact that she was back, and there were some things she couldn’t avoid.

Being a Willows, there were always things she had to deal with in her life that other people did not. She didn’t complain or suggest that she struggled in life because she knew she was part of a small percentage of extreme wealth, but that’s not to say there weren’t things that were hard on her. She just had to act like they didn’t bother her. Middle school had been ruthless, awkward years as they were for everyone, but made worse by unending “Daddy’s money” jabs. Leila always hated that: it wasn’t fair that people were made fun of for being poor or being rich, being ugly or being pretty. Who was safe? And who would listen, anyway? Poor little rich girl. Why don’t you just go cry on your Daddy’s yacht? Even with a secure circle of friends, the last name made her a target. Money couldn’t cushion blows. She grew a thick enough skin to joke with them in high school, “Willows money” jokes being a day-to-day thing. Even still with her cautious confidence there were those sneer-mouthed gossips, feeding rumors and proclaiming that anything Leila achieved was through purchase.

To be honest, Leila was very aware of her wealth. She had expensive taste and was fortunate enough to be able to treat herself when she wanted, but she did control herself in spending. She tried as hard as she could to be modest, but there’s a limit to people accepting modesty when your friends have their own suites when they spend the night. Leila was always defensive, because she wasn’t rude and she wasn’t a jerk about it. What was it that made her so hateable? She’d whine this question to Alex and he’d jokingly reply, “Willows money!” Which, admittedly, could make Leila chuckle.

She was reminded now of why she would spend weeks on end at her friends’ houses when her father was away. Being alone in that house, especially at night, was at the very least lonely and even scary. When she was little she’d stay with Evelyn for weeks at a time, or show up at the Gaskarth’s when she needed company for a while. Leila had known Evelyn forever; Ev and Jack were like real life Phil and Lil from Rugrats to her. Always together, always causing some well-meaning mischief; entertaining and close-knit as only twins could be, it seemed. Leila was an only child. She had her friends, though, or at least she used to. Alex’s mother and Leila’s mother were dear friends, so she’d known Alex at least as long as she knew Evelyn. Which was a damn long time.

The house was full of memories and reminders like that. Pictures framed everywhere so that she was living in a minefield of her past. Leila looked at the ground as she made her way back to her room. It was late and she was worn out and she had the actual funeral the next morning, since everyday seemed to just bring a new torture for her. She’d given up fighting it probably around the time she’d bought the ticket to fly here. She just didn’t have the energy to fight something like this.

Morning came quicker than Leila realized, and much quicker than she appreciated. This day, of all days, was going to be unending and trying. She found herself, much to her own disgust, wanting to skip the funeral. Of course, she wouldn’t, that was far from a consideration, but the funeral would be the wake magnified times a hundred. A hundred thousand million, she thought childishly. The turnout would be huge, and very anti-Leila.

She wore black that day out of respect for her father, and because it would help her blend in a little more. There were some who recognized her of course; those disgusted expressions were unmistakable. But she kept her gaze level and walked with as much confidence she could muster to the front most pew of the church, sitting alone of course. There was space around her like she was contagious. Maybe she should start hacking up some coughs, just to keep up appearances. That was what they were into, right? Keeping up appearances? Leila looked at her lap and thoughtlessly rubbed her nose. There was no need to be ridiculous, she told herself. But someone behind her threw a crumpled napkin at her and it was getting hard to check her self control.

The service was uneventful, unimpressive, and unhappy for Leila. She didn’t like it at all, not that she expected to like her father’s funeral, but she hadn’t expected to dislike it either. Well, the sooner she could leave, the better. As soon as the service ended she tried to squeeze her way through the black mass that choked the church, not bothering to say any excuse me, pardon me nonsense. She’d made her way outside, beginning across the dewy, manicured lawn of the church, but before she got very far there was a familiar voice.

“Leila Willows,” The familiar voice laughed. Warm, amused. A boy’s voice—or would it be a man’s voice now? Warm and amused and boyish and very, very familiar. And just like that, her built up confidence was clobbered out of her, seemingly from the back of her knees. Her face changed from strict determination to a kind of dread, the dread that comes with shock and devastation and why did you have to fucking talk to me. Leila’s lips twisted into an awkward duck-like shape and she turned around.

“It’s been a long time.” Alex smiled when Leila turned to look at him. So much came rushing back to attack her it could’ve very well knocked her over. Leila flinched at his voice and his smile and his presence.

“I was hoping it’d be longer.” Leila whispered in reply, looking at Alex miserably. His smile only widened and he replied, “I knew you’d say that.”

She couldn’t have prepared herself to see him if she had stared at his picture the entire way there. Oh, it hurt to look at him. Her eyes got that stupid tell-tale burning and her throat clenched up. Alex, Alex, Alex. Of course he’d be there. She’d known him so long it was like he had always been there. He’d been everything she needed. They leaned on each other when they needed it and spent time together anytime otherwise. Pizza nights at the Gaskarth house were routine for Leila growing up. Sometimes they’d spend nights at each other’s houses, when it was for fun or an emergency or they were lonely. Alex drove Leila to and from countless dance functions because she liked his company—he took her to rehearsals, camps, recitals, competitions…and Leila kept the boys company when they were practicing in garages or basements. Maybe they were both lonely people or maybe they were kindred souls, but Leila and Alex always found their way back to each other.

They stood there for only a few stagnant, breathless seconds until Alex reached out and pulled Leila into him. His arms folded tightly around her narrow waist, a hug she was completely unprepared for. Well, she was unprepared for a lot of things; this really was the least of her worries. She stood there for a moment, stiff and stubborn, before finally breaking down and folding into him. He hugged her tighter, gently rubbing her back, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his torso. Her face fit perfectly tucked under his chin and she stayed there for a minute, squeezing her eyes shut and pretending the circumstances were different.

Maybe, maybe he had been there some time. They’d toured in San Francisco before, Leila knew, but she never went to see them. She was still pretending to be invisible. Her company had been to Baltimore, too, but Alex wouldn’t have gone to see that. Maybe. Sometimes she wanted to call, to speak to Alex or Evelyn or Jack or someone, but she couldn’t. She kept on pretending to be invisible. Occasionally she’d wear some All Time Low t-shirt she had cut up into a teensy tank top to a rehearsal for fun and for the painful reminder—she was a masochist that way. But as much as she wanted to think she was invisible she knew she couldn’t be. As much as Leila thought about them, they had to think of her too.

Maybe.

Finally, Leila swallowed the ache in her throat and pulled away. She looked up at Alex’s face. “How did you know it was me?” She asked him quietly.

Alex chuckled and looked at her with a teasing half smile. “Other than that you turned around when I said your name?” Leila rolled her eyes and gave him a look. The way he’d said her name was not a question; he’d already known it was her when he said it. His half smile expanded. “Because you’re just…you, Lei. For one thing, you separated yourself from everyone else, in typical Leila fashion,” His voice wasn’t playful as he said that. She felt the corners of her lips tug downward as he looked serious for a minute. But he shifted quickly, of course. “And you’re just Leila. You’re tiny and cut,” He squeezed her bicep and she scrunched up her face with a quick, silent giggle. “And you smell like flowers. Like always.

She couldn’t help but laugh at his finish, but he continued before she could speak. “And because you looked so unhappy—typical Leila again. Really, mostly, I knew it was you because you looked like you were miserable with yourself.” Leila’s face was blank. She had no idea how to react to that. Alex just looked at her, his big eyebrows and big eyes shadowed together. His face was unreadable, mostly because she couldn’t tell if he was angry, sad, or disappointed. Probably all three.

The air was silent between them again. Alex seemed perfectly content, but Leila was feeling awkward. She inhaled and looked up at him again before beginning stupidly, “How’s…”

How’s who? Who was she supposed to ask about? She couldn’t remember his girlfriend’s name from when she had left, and by now that girl would more than likely be gone. Without thinking it through, Leila blurted, “How’s Evelyn?” Her beloved old best girlfriend—her sister, honestly. Who she had no doubt destroyed when she left the way she did. Jack’s twin sister, who Alex probably saw daily. There was a strong ache in her body for the friends, the life she had left behind, but she pretended she couldn’t feel it.

Alex smiled gently, almost sadly. “She’s good. She and Jack live together. She’s still making clothes, mostly for the hell of but sometimes she gets money. You know, does shows or competitions or whatever. Actually,” His smile was happy for a second. “She made this suit.”

Leila’s lips formed a little O. The suit was gorgeous, as far as suits went. It was perfect on Alex, like he had it made specifically for him. “It’s lovely,” Leila said simply, looking at the ensemble. He looked straight off the cover of GQ. Evelyn was clearly talented and quick to develop her skills. Or was it quick? Leila couldn’t remember when Evelyn first started making clothes. High school, it must’ve been. She flinched at her own carelessness.

“I mean she just wanted to make a suit, I was just who she used to fit it, so it looks best on me. But of course it does.” He smirked. “Anyway, she’s made loads of stuff…dresses, fuck tons of dresses.” And suddenly, again, he changed. He had that unreadable look and it stabbed straight through her. “She mentions you every fucking day, Lei. What did you think you’d accomplish from leaving?” He was so unhappy with her. She felt like a child being scolded. “Did you think we’d forget about you? Did you think we’d forget everything, Leila? Jesus, did you think at all?”

Leila fought the quiver of her lip because she hated how often she was crying these days and she knew it would fluster Alex even more if she started to cry. “Honestly, Alex,” She sighed, her voice tiny like it had been for ages, it seemed. “Yeah, I thought you’d forget. Honestly, I hoped you would.”

They both looked at each other, miserable and exasperated, standing there until he reached out again to pull her close. He didn’t hug her, but put one arm securely around her waist and pulled her against him. “Come on,” He said gently, walking with her to his car. She’d taken a cab and wasn’t really concerned about getting back to the house. He grasped her hand when they sat in the car. “Let’s go.” Was all he said.