Brisé by Leigh Ann Lunsford, Chelsea Kuhel Page A

her, I place a kiss on her temple. I need her to talk to me, I have to figure out what she needs.
    “Luke,” she bellows. I can’t tell her it will be okay, because even if time heals wounds, this one will never close. There is nothing that will heal this; this emptiness will always exist. I am sure each day will get easier, but her life will never be the same again. Each moment, each accomplishment, every milestone, she will feel a void that can never be filled, and I can’t fix that.
    “I’m right here, I won’t leave,” I whisper to her. She clutches me more tightly as if she is trying to climb inside me. She’s shaking. I reach for the blanket behind us, and she cries out. “Promise, I won’t ever leave you again.” I manage to get the blanket wrapped around her. There will be plenty of time to talk later; right now I am giving her the only comfort I can. I pull her against my chest and rub her head like I did years ago, in this exact spot. It doesn’t bring her the same comfort, but at least she isn’t sobbing. The tears are still coming, but the gut-wrenching noises have stopped. I know soon the questions will start.
    About an hour later, my parents come in the door. My mom has pulled herself together trying to be strong for Phoebe, like Emily would have wanted. We sit in silence for a while waiting on Phoebe to set the tone of what will transpire. If she wants to sit in silence then we will, if she wants to talk, then we will. “Did they die together?”
    “Yes.” My parents let me take the lead. They’re just here for support.
    “Was it fast?” I can’t answer these questions. Nobody really knows that. It took over an hour to find their bodies. I lie. “As far as they know it was.” These aren’t really the questions she has. She wants to ask why? What now? She wants to scream at the injustice of it all, but she won’t.
    “I don’t know what to do.” She knows her parents are gone; she understands the finality of it, and she is devastated enough, but now her mind won’t turn off, and it’s time to come clean.
    “You don’t have to do anything. Your parents had everything covered.” I pause to take a deep breath. I don’t know why I’m so nervous to tell her, it isn’t anything we expected to happen. “Before I left for college, your parents had papers drawn up naming me your guardian in the event anything ever happened to them.” I am waiting for her to freak out, but she’s still just staring at me, waiting for me to finish. “They made sure you would be taken care of. You’re almost eighteen. Nothing has to change for you. You can live here, finish school, whatever you need, and I’ll be here by your side.”
    “Why not your parents?” This isn’t the reaction I was expecting. I explain to her what her parents’ thoughts were. She seems to process that and surprisingly agrees with them. “What happens when you go back to school?”
    “I had a little time to think while I waited for you. I have finals next week. I’ll call my professors to get an extension. Once they’re done, I’ll transfer to wherever you go or I can start working with my dad. It’ll all work out.”
    Tears stream down her face. “Luke, what about your plans?”
    “You’re all I need. Let’s get through this one day at a time, and we’ll figure it out together. I promise I won’t leave you.” She grabs me again, and I hold her just as tightly while she breaks down again. In my arms I will always shelter her. I can’t heal this, but I can hold her through it.
    I watch over her the next few days. She isn’t breaking down, isn’t turning into herself, she seems to grow stronger with each decision being made. I don’t know if this is normal, I don’t have any experience to base it off. Each book or article I read is like a how-to guide for dealing with grief, and then in fine print it states, ‘Each person deals with grief differently, just offer your support.’ I let her take the lead