Memories of a Bad Boy

Fifth Memory

Amelia's POV

My life is full of miserable people right now and I am trying my best not to be one of them.

But I couldn't help but despair as my brother sat on my left-hand side still reeking of alcohol, yet luckily he had sobered up a little before the funeral started with the help of Clayton and I.

On my right-hand side sat Ash, he had his hand on my knee and I knew he expected me to hold it, to seek comfort in his presence. But I didn't want it, he didn't understand what my family was going through right now and I just wish he could understand that all I wanted right now was a bit of breathing space.

All of us, the whole family, had come to remember him. Our Peter.

Well, the whole family minus an unbelievably vital person. My father, I had not seen him since I had heard the news of Peter's death but I knew even though Clayton and James had put enough a massive fight an invitation had been delivered to him.

I suppose even losing Peter wasn't enough for my father to realize that he was making a huge mistake. Peter was his son, and should always be no matter the life choices he makes.

I had never hated my father before. After everything we went through I had tried so hard to hate him but I just couldn't. But today, him not showing up to Peter's funeral, I have never loathed someone more.

And it made tears well in my eyes because it was so contradictory. I feel as though you're meant to love your family through thick and thin. I tried so hard to do so, my brothers gave up on him so quickly but I tried so hard.

But now I was done.

I was sat at the front and I could feel a hundred burning eyes on the back of my neck when Father Thomas gave me an encouraging side glance and a nod of his head. I stood up slowly and I walked up to the podium to say my bit.

At first, it was meant to be James speaking. He was always the best at this sort of thing and when mother first asked us if we wanted to say something at Peter's funeral I politely declined.

Clayton refused point-blank, although he is a confident person he had a weird trait of stage fright. I still remember the church nativity plays our parents would make us do as kids and how much Clay would hate them.

I really couldn't believe James had thrown me under the bus like this. But now honestly wasn't the time to complain and I certainly couldn't let James speak.

Although he was now sober he was staying at the ground with blank tear-filled eyes. All that had already been said in the service had been too much for him to bare, I knew that he had zoned out completely. He didn't want to be here anymore, he just wanted to be with Peter.

"I wish" I started to say but my heart began to race and my palms began to sweat. There were so many people here today, so many people that loved Peter, here to say goodbye to him.

I cleared my throat and took a deep breath.

"I wish I could spend my time gushing about how wonderful a person my brother was like every other person has, but that would be a lie because this is a day about remembering Peter. All of him, the best and the worst, the good the bad and the ugly" I smiled to myself and a couple of those who knew Peter best laughed quietly.

When some people sat on those horrible old wooden pews had the audacity to turn around to see who made the noise to give them dirty looks and I felt like screaming at them.

They, of course, didn't know Peter well, did not understand that Peter's all-time favorite film was The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. He could recite every word by heart, I swear on my life he was the most devoted fan to Clint Eastwood.

"I should start by saying that if Peter was here today he probably would have been sent out by now. He had a terrible habit of getting fits of the giggles at the worst of times. I remember when we where little children it used to aggravate my parents so much, they use to try and tell him off and all he could do was giggle, he could never keep a straight face."

I took a deep breath as my heart started to slow down, a heartwarming sign- a small barely noticeable smile played on James's lips.

He could remember too.

..............F.L.A.S.H...B.A.C.K........

"Common Melia, reach up just a bit higher and you'll get it" said Peter as he swayed with me perched precariously on his shoulders.

"I can't Peepee, it's too high" I said as I stretched out my arms for the biscuit barrel. My finger tips brushed the side of the jar, inches away the it sat on the highest shelf and teased us. We were close but yet so far.

"I have an idea" Peter said suddenly, I suddenly felt us rise up as Peter pulled out one of the kitchen draws and climbed onto it with me still on his shoulders.

"GOT IT!" I yelled far too loudly, mother would surely hear and of course, she did.

We were only a few small bites into our first biscuits when she came downstairs from her office and began to shout.

"Peter Teague Messer, Amelia Jane Messer what on earth do you two think you're doing?"

"Sorry mummy" I blushed and hid my face in my hands.

"You two should be ashamed of yourselves." She had such pretty face did my mother, especially when she was young but when she was telling us off that woman could sure terrify a seven-foot body builder.

I started to cry silently into my small palms but as my mother stood with mer gads on her thin waist waiting for us to apologise Peter began his usual antics.

At first it was a small noise, like a hum. Then it turned into a small chuckle, then a girlish giggle, then laughter, then a full bellied rolling and rocking guffaw.

"Peter, Peter stop it" my mother tried to shout over his laughter to make him stop. But she couldn't, she never could. Parenting was never really a strong point of my parents.

They're not bad parents, not at all. Just not normal ones- we did most of the learning by ourselves, most of the discoveries were made solo. To be honest if someone told me I taught myself to walk and talk I wouldn't be surprised.

But as Peter's joyous laughter began to float into my ears it ran through my veins and as it always did it infected me too. I started to smile and then I too had the disease.

"If the both of you don't stop laughing immediately you won't get any dinner!" threatened my mother in her last attempt to parent, but she knew it was a lost cause so she just picked up the biscuit tin and put it in the locked cabinet along with all the other treats and snacks worth stealing.

She left us to roll on the floor laughing. I knew she didn't want to be around us anymore, I think she feared that if she stayed for another second she might too be infected by his giggles.

....E.N.D...O.F....F.L.A.S.H...B.A.C.K........

"The guy with the most contagious laugh ever. I'm sure every one of you in this room who met Peter can agree with me that no matter how you were feeling if he started laughing you just had to join in."

The whole room seemed to nod in unison and a couple of people spoke aloud as they agreed.

I took another deep breath. I had taken so many today I felt like I was in some yoga class or something, I was quite close to passing out.

"I want to remember my brother for everything he was to me. Every day for the rest of my life I am going to think about him because there will always be constant reminders of him, I will always wonder why him but in his words sh*t happens, get over it" Father Thomas gave me a wide-eyed look but Clayton looked as if he may abrupt into applause.

"Onwards and upwards, that's what he would say. And well upwards is exactly what he's done. And I know he's looking out for us, all of us." I said.

When I was 7 the class hamster died.

When I was 17 the love of my life's sister died.

Now for the first time in my life, someone really close to me had died, about as close as you could get, and yet I couldn't understand the feelings I had within my body.

Everybody around me seemed to be absolutely distraught, heartbroken, shocked and just all together emotional wreaks.

Even people who barely knew Peter and had no right to be crying were still bawling their eyes out. I couldn't muster a single tear.

I was in complete juxtaposition to this as I stood at my brother's funeral, completely numb of any feeling.

I cried when the hamster died. I cried when Nora died.

Why when my own brother died who I loved so much, so unconditionally did i just feel so disconnected from everything and everyone. It was like I was trapped in a bubble.

I shivered as the wind blew around us unforgivingly. Father Thomas wouldn't shut up and was saying some silly prayer all for my mothers sake. At first, the prayers that he said were quite beautiful and I think ever Peter would of loved them. But now this was just over kill and it was no longer about him.

"Thank you all for coming today, may we finish with a blessing" said Father Thomas.

"Finally" Clayton growled a little too loudly and my mother gave him a look that shot daggers.

Soon the majority of people had cleared off after coming over to us, apologizing for our loss as though that could somehow miraculously bring him back, the usual.

"Shall we go?" said Ash inclining his head towards my mother and Father Thomas who had turned and were walking away from the grave.

Clayton and James had already left. They didn't want to be near this grave and I knew they would never visit it ever again, there was a body in it but it was not him anymore. It was just a shell and both James and Clayton had no interest, all they wanted was to be able to hold Peter again and never let go.

I could see it in there eyes.

"No, you go. I need a minute." I said

"Angel, are you sure. How will you get back?" he asked.

"I'll walk into town afterwards it's not far, get a drink and the get a taxi back or something," I said.

He looked like he was about to argue but after seeing the look on my face he nodded, leaned down and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek.

"I'll see you later, stay safe" he squeezed my hand and I nodded with a forced smile.

I watched him walk all the way up to the church to the car park. I wanted to watch him drive away so he wouldn't ask questions later about what I was doing, I didn't want to confuse him by looking at another grave.

Eventually I made my way over to a well known stone with those three words on it that I have carried with me every day since she died.

'Love is enough'

I bent down in front of it and but my hand on the cold stone.

After a few minutes I spoke, I asked her what I hadn't been able to ask anyone else because they probably would have told me I was crazy.

"I'm confused" I said, "I can feel him again,like he's close. His presence, it doesn't make sense" I said.

"Amelia."

I looked up frantically as I heard my name.

"Oh my" I blushed as I stood up, "Mr Millar, I'm so sorry you must think I'm so disrespectful coming and talking to her. You must also think i'm going slightly mad."

It still made my heart race to see Luca's father, identical eyes. How those eyes use to make me feel when the gazed at me, straight into my soul. I shook my head trying to rid those thoughts, these were the wrong eyes a different pair that belong to Greyson Millar, not Luca.

"No not at all, Amelia you have every right to come talk to her, probably more of a right then me. I've heard tales from Lillian that she was completely smitten by you." He said, I noticed he had a bunch of beautiful pink and yellow tulips wrapped in brown paper in his hands.

"Oh Lillian, is she still working for you?" I asked.

His handsome face fell, "No, unfortunately it's just me now. Lillian's sister fell ill and after Nora died and Luca left Lillian felt as though she had no purpose here so she went to care for her sister."

"Thats very unfortunate" I said. I could just imagine Mr Millar completely alone in that massive house for three years. Prowling the cold corridors where all that remained was that memories of all the children he had lost.

"Do you want to have coffee with me, Mr Millar?" I asked.

He looked uncertain. It was already quite late and I knew he thought it was weird for him to be having coffee with his son's ex-girlfriend but i'd given up on trying to avoid weird situations like this. There were just to many of them in my life, I say accept don't block.

"Common Mr Millar, tell you what i'll even come back to the house with you. I do know that house quite well, I bet you haven't had any help in ages and it's rather messy. I can give you a hand?" I offered.

I had no idea what I was doing but the words just came tumbling out of my mouth. I knew stepping back into that house was the last thing I wanted to do but I think right know Mr Millar needed me just as much as I needed to spend time with someone who didn't know what had happened to me over the past week, how wouldn't question me about my brother or apologise for my loss.

I didn't want to talk about Peter anymore, I was just so tired of it.

Mr Millar looked at me, through me. He laid down the flowers by the headstone and breathed out slowly with his eyes closed.

"It is enough, its always been enough. We're just too blind to see it sometimes. She never ever was though."

"I know" I said as he turned away from the stone and began to walk away.

We walking in silence for a couple of minutes, darkness was beginning to fall and I was glad to be out of the graveyard before night fell.

He spoke again as we neared the church. A golden glow came out of it's stained glass windows from the lit candles within.

"I don't think I have any coffee Amelia, will gin and tonic do?" he asked.

I thought about the pact I had made with my brothers to not drink.

But then I remembered who was offering me the drink as I looked back into those eyes.

"A gin and tonic will be just perfect"

.........................................................................................

Thank you for reading this chapter! I hope you enjoyed! I appreciate every single read more than anything!

Question for this chapter: Why do you think Amelia has gone back with Mr Millar?

(please feel free to start a discussion with your fellow readers! I love to hear your thoughts)

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Lots of love,