Chapter 1
We are gathered here today in memory of Enzo Leonette. The day replays in my mind over and over again. Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry for your loss. Every piercing word is repeated in my mind. He was such an amazing soul, his presence made the room brighter. Every moment is more hopeless than the next. I rose from my seat, and I placed my sweaty, shaky hands in my pockets. Why god? I thought as I walked up to the podium. With every step I took to get there, I thought of what it would be like to hear his voice once again. To be in his radiant presence again, my uncle Enzo, seeing him in my head, knowing that’s the only place we could ever speak again. 2 weeks and 2 heart-wrenching days. That’s how long it’s been since the day of the cold funeral, I wake up every restless morning and write in my rugged journal he left me. Last night I couldn’t sleep again. I keep seeing him in my dreams, in the accident. I see him smiling in his blue beat-up BMW. BAMM!! That’s every night since he died, every day his face gets fuzzier and fuzzier, just reminding me he is no longer with us. So his body in that casket was like seeing a stranger, it was like seeing everything that made him ripped out from the inside. It hurts, it hurts so much. I think that gripping on to this wretched painful life is meaningless.
-journal entry 16
I don’t know how much longer I can stand this pain. When I close my eyes I hope the pain stops but the moment I open my eyes, so do the wounds on my heart. Knock, knock,
“Tesoro, ti svegli?” whispered my mamma from the other side of the door.
“Yes mamma, I’m up”
“Are you able to go to school today, Amore mio?” she said in a worried tone. In my mind, the answer was really a swift no.
“Yes, I can go today,” I said with a fake smile, not that she could see it.
“I’ll see you downstairs for a little breakfast”
“Okay,” I spoke as I removed the covers that I’d been buried under for a week now. I get ready with no reason, no need, no want, to ever leave the house again. I put on my uncle’s old brown rugged flannel, some random beat-up blue jeans, and my black Converse that is more brown now from all the mud I had to walk in at the funeral. Grip my black backpack and walk down to the kitchen.
“Good morning, there’s some coffee and cake right there”
“I’ll have some coffee,” I said. I can feel there’s something she wants to ask me, something in the way she looks at me. but she’s so reluctant to. I grab the hot coffee pot and pour it into a thermos, I kiss my mamma on her forehead, and as I’m walking to get my car keys off the key hanger,
“Amore mio, we need to talk about Enz-” she mutters being interrupted
“Mamma, I don’t want to talk about him”
“Landon, you need to talk-”
“Mamma, please” I cry as I grab my car keys and open up the garage door. I get in my black buggy and I make my way to the cesspool we call a school here in Portland. Bradford High School. As I drive down the bumpy roads of Maine, I’m reminded of uncle Enzo, every red light, every car, and every person. You’re gonna do great, Landon, don’t worry, you’re strong. Memories of him come flooding in my mind more and more as the days go on. My eyes start to water as I pull up to school, I take a moment to contain myself and think of his words. I get out of my car and make my way inside the doors, every stare, every eye directed my way,
“Isn’t that kid whose uncle died?” They whisper and taunt as if I couldn’t hear them. As if I were the ghost and not him was saying it like I wasn’t there like I couldn’t hear them. I walked to my locker and put in my combo; 43 71 04. Grabbing my books from my bag and shoving them into my locker. I glanced at the side of the locker door and saw a picture of my uncle Enzo and me. I felt the tears flooding into my eyes like a tsunami. I slammed the locker closed and was shocked by the four guys standing there.
“Hey bro so I heard your uncle got hit by a car,” he uttered out of his stupid neanderthal mouth. The guys started chuckling, like what he said was funny, I balled my fist. At that moment, I thought to myself, what the hell is wrong with him? Would anyone miss him if I just killed him right now? Maybe if I’m violent enough I won’t have to come back to this dump I call a school?
“Hey guys, what’s going on?” a strange boy says as he walks up to me.
