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I took a long, shaky breath, trying to chill out. My cap felt weirdly heavy on my head even though it was just cardboard and polyester. The whole night had this weird dreamlike vibe.
It was so crazy to think I was actually there: graduation day. Those past months had just blurred by with all the studying, papers, and working with Brahms. My whole world had shrunk down to that, just pushing through to reach this goal. To prove I’d made the right call changing majors.
I pressed my palms to my temples, trying to rub away the headache building behind my eyes. The constant tension at home has been giving me migraines lately. Or maybe it was the stress of juggling school, caring for Brahms, and my own grief. Dad’s bitterness permeated the house, poisoning even good days with his anger. Mom drifted around like a ghost, lost in sorrow for Zane and Iris. Their rooms were shrines. No one but her was allowed inside.
It was probably the weight of it all bearing down on me. But this was my day, and I refused to let everything else ruin it. I just needed to get through today. That has become my mantra: get through today.
But I felt like I was teetering on a tightrope that divided two places—joy on one side and overwhelming grief on the other.
Everyone was beginning to calm down when I heard the sound of shoes against polished wood. We all turned to find Ellington Ehrenberg approaching. No one recognized him, since he no longer had the boyish looks from his Metro 5 days. This man wore an expensive suit, had a beard and sad eyes—the death of Zane devastated him.
They were going to get married next year—I helped my brother pick out the engagement ring. He planned on proposing right after the Cascade Midnight tour was over. Right after, his publicist handled the media because Zane’s fans didn’t know he was gay. However, he was done hiding who he was because it was best for the band.
“Look at you, the star of the night,” Ellington said warmly, his voice filled with a mix of pride and sadness. “Zane would’ve been proud of you.”
I offered a smile, though I felt it waver. “Hey, Ellie, I didn’t know you’d be coming.”
He nodded. “My brother wouldn’t miss your big day, so I brought him,” he answered, without mentioning Brahms’s name.
Of course, he couldn’t mention his brother’s name in front of others. Brahms’s family and the band had kept his whereabouts completely secret after the crash.
I didn’t know what the media was saying about my brother’s death or Brahms’s disappearance. I had disconnected from that world, too, but everything was a big secret. I just couldn’t look at another picture of Iris or Zane without breaking down.
Glancing around nervously, I asked, “Is he okay? What if someone recognizes him?”
Ellington waves a hand dismissively. “He’s keeping a low profile. No one expects to see him here.” He squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. “He just wants to support you today. We’re all so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”
Hearing him say that felt nice. The Ehrenberg men were the only family I had left.
Ellie handed me an envelope. “This is for you. Congrats. Dad and my brothers send hugs. We’re all thankful for what you’ve done for our brother.”
I nodded, comforted that Brahms was able to be here in some way. As long as he was safe, that was what mattered most.Somehow, he had become the center of my universe and the one person I cared for the most. I hadn’t had time to properly grieve my siblings, but helping Brahms gave me comfort and purpose. I knew Zane and Iris would approve.
Though it was growing harder not to let my girlhood crush develop into something more. I found it impossible not to care for him when Brahms was so thoughtful and kind, even confined to that wheelchair.
I had no idea what to expect from these growing feelings. Part of me felt it was wrong when I was still grieving. But part of me was thrilled at the possibility of something hopeful emerging from the ashes. I was conflicted, unsure of what the future would bring.
When I opened the envelope, I found a paid vacation to a private island and money. “You guys didn’t have to, it’s too much.”
Ellington smirked. “You deserve that and more. He’s recovering—physically and emotionally because of you. I don’t think either one of us would’ve survived if we had lost him.”
“Nope. That’s all him, but I’m happy to give him a hand.”
Everything I did for Brahms was effortless and worth everything, even though my emotions were becoming a complication. Later, I would untangle my heart from this knotted mess, and watch him from afar.
I knew that would be harder than his recovery, which still had a long way to go. It had been almost five months since he came to Connecticut with me. Yet he still wasn’t walking or even standing on his own. But the doctors gave us hope. They said his mobility was improving a lot. He could feel and move his legs and wiggle his toes. That was great news.
However Brahms didn’t like that I had given up my medical career plans for him. But I hadn’t, not really. While staying at the hospital, I watched his doctors work with many patients. They were dedicated but also exhausted because not every patient would fully recover, and some didn’t make it through the night. I didn’t want to face that daily. As a physical therapist I could give hope and show patients new ways to manage if they lost mobility. I realized I liked that better.
What Brahms gave me was different, and I was grateful to him. His recovery was slow, but he worked hard in our therapy sessions. He never gave up, even when it was painful and frustrating. And he always appreciated my help. I couldn’t resent caring for him.
“You give me strength, Sephie,” he told me after a particularly grueling day. “I wouldn’t have come this far without you.”
And maybe I wouldn’t be standing here, about to graduate, if it wasn’t for him. Maybe we were each other’s strength. I was grateful for his friendship and the hours we spent talking about nothing or just playing music together. It helped me feel less lonely and sometimes loved.
Chapter Fifteen
Brahms
