I open the front door to my house and step inside quietly, shutting the door even more quietly. I'm drained from the day's events as I slip off my shoes, not caring that they land on different sides of the small mudroom.

As I walk into the living room, I notice the light above our stove is on in the kitchen. I stop and carefully step into the kitchen. "Mom? Why are you up?" She's sitting at the table, one leg crossed over the other.

She turns around, her eyes hazy from sleep. "I just needed some water." She holds up the glass of water in her hand. "How was your night?"

"I texted you," I say quickly, not wanting to get into an argument. "Did you get it?"

Mom nods her head and sets her glass down. She walks over to me as she wraps her robe around her tighter. "Yeah, I did. It's okay, honey. I'm glad you texted. I was just wondering. Did you have a nice night?"

"Yeah," I don't even hesitate to answer. "It was great."

"You helped a cow give birth...?"

I let out a laugh. "I did. It was pretty cool. Twins. Sam and I named them Florence and Janis."

Mom smiles at that. "That is so cute." She waits a beat to continue. "So, you and Samara are getting pretty close, aren't you?"

I shake my head, but still, I can't hide my smile. "Kind of. I like her a lot."

Mom hugs me then, and it takes me a second to hug her back because of how surprised I am. It's not that Mom never hugs me or shows me affection, it's just that... we don't do this often.

"Quentin..." Mom trails off as she takes a small step back. She holds my arms gently. "I just want you to know that I love you. I don't say that enough." I prepare myself to see tears in her eyes, but instead, she smiles at me, her eyes tired.

"I love you too, Mom." What else is going to happen in one night? I start to head back to my room, but Mom starts again.

"I was going to tell you this in the morning, but I want to go through Michael's things. I thought it was time, and I want you to help me decide what to keep. Whatever we don't keep, I thought we could donate it."

I wait a beat for her to continue, then nod my head. "Yeah, I think that sounds good." I rub a hand through my hair. "Mom, are you sure you're okay with this?"

She gives me a faint smile and rubs my arm lovingly. "It's been two years, honey. I think it's time."

I can't stop the pang of hurt that goes through me thinking about getting rid of the things that belonged to Mikey. I lower my eyes and bite down on my lip. "Okay. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight," she murmurs.

I head back to my room, passing Mikey's on the way. I'm tempted to go in and sit for a while, but as soon as my hand touches the doorknob, I take it off. Instead, I go to my room and strip off my clothes before I climb into bed.

My mind twists through territory that I haven't visited in a while. Memories that I have tried over and over to forget, ones that I've tried to remember. Mikey locking me out of his room so he and his friends could play video games in peace. Mikey begging me to play the same games with him knowing I was no match for him, but still enjoying it.

Then there are the ones after he was gone. Mom yelling at me to not touch anything in his room. Dad asking me to help him do something that normally would've been a him-and-Mikey thing. Me saying I don't feel like it because all I wanted to do was lock my door and play music to get away from the constant reminders. My refusals always led to a fight between Dad and me, then between Mom and Dad when she would try to explain that I'm "different".

Mom never even asked if I was okay with getting rid of Mikey's things.

I know, I know. It seems ridiculous after I've complained about not being allowed to go in. Is there ever a correct way to feel when it comes to these kinds of things? Maybe that's why Mom couldn't allow me in there. She could never decide.

My phone buzzes from under my pillow. I pull it out to see I have a message from Asher. He's picked a time for us to meet and even given me details on where I could stay if I decided to meet up with him. A barn... made into a house?

Thanksgiving break weekend... in a barn... with a bunch of musicians who have no idea what they're really doing.

I send Asher a text back:

Sounds good to me.

*

To my surprise, laughter comes easier with every passing minute as I sift through Mikey's things. Mom is on the other side of the room sorting through clothes, laughing at the shirts that had funny sayings on them. Mikey's loved those.

"I can't believe he actually wore that to school," I laugh as she holds it up. My anger management class pisses me off. It was a shirt Mikey wore mostly outside of school, and it's one that was exactly made for him but also wasn't. The irony of it made the shirt his. He's the one person in the world I could never imagine having to go to anger management classes. Me on the other hand...

"Here," Mom says as she tosses it my way. "You should keep that."

I catch it with one hand and stare at it for a moment. I'm surprised she wants me to keep something that says that on it. She moves on quickly to the next shirt, a blue and white flannel shirt that Mikey wore so often you would have thought it was the only shirt he owned.

"Can I keep that one, too?" I stand up and make my way over to her. She gives me a sad smile before she looks at it again. I can only imagine what she's thinking about, but I don't want to at the same time.

She holds it up against me as if trying to see how it would look. "I think it would look great on you. It makes you look just like Mikey." Mom brushes my cheek briefly, and a flash of sadness goes through me.

I grab hold of the shirt and toss it into the pile of things I know I'm keeping. We have a few boxes filled with things to donate. Deep down I hope that the things in the donate boxes are things that weren't important to Mikey.

Dad pops in every once in a while to get a look at what we've collected so far. He doesn't stay for long, but I can tell he wants to. He glances at me briefly, then dodges out of the room to go do something else. Most likely outside.

"Has he said anything else about this?" I ask once Dad leaves.

Mom doesn't look at me as she continues going through Mikey's clothes. "You know your dad. He isn't good at expressing his feelings."

I nod to that. I agree, he isn't. Except not with all of them.

"When we're done, I'm going to go to Sam's. Is that okay?"

Mom gives me a short smile. "Of course." She pauses for a second. "Invite her over for dinner one night, okay?"

I try to hide the smile trying to cross my face. "Okay."

"Quentin?" Mom says after a short quiet moment. "I'm glad to see you happy again."

I'm not sure what to say to her. I didn't realize I was happier, but... I am. Sam, despite her constant nagging and annoying sass, makes me happy. Hell must be freezing over. I smile at that thought, too, because she would punch me for saying something like that.

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Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'm working hard to get these chapters written so I can post them. There's a lot going on, as I'm sure it with you as well :) We'll get through this uncertain time one way or another! Stay positive!! 

The song is Anyway by Noah Kahan!