I intended to spend every solitary minute until the day she left with Alana. Ever since last night, it was simply impossible for me to stop thinking about her. It wasn't in an obsessive sense, really, but more like emotional. We had just discovered last night our true feelings for each other, and now it was nearly too late. Al only had a mere two days left, save the time in which they'd be packing. I'd be lucky to see her for a measly hour from the way things were looking right now. I hadn't the faintest clue of what time in the morning it was, but it was obviously rather late, considering the fact that Ike was awake, who rarely wakes up anytime near the rest of our family.

As if having psychic powers, my mom appeared in the room not a moment later. "Oh, good, you're up." Damn, she knew me way too well.

I groaned and rolled over, tangling the covers around myself like a spider weaving its web. "What gave you that impression?"

She rolled her eyes at my attempted sarcasm, and sobered quickly after. "Well, Mr. Sarcastic, I'd suggest getting your butt up and in gear, because we're taking the Bensons out for brunch," she informed, blinking expectantly at me.

I shot bolt upright at the mere mentioning of Alana's last name. "Brunch? When?" I inquired, suddenly wide awake, contrary to how I felt minutes before.

"Oh, in about," she glanced slyly at her wrist clad in a black Timex watch, "five minutes."

"Five minutes?!" That snapped my attention. I jumped out of bed and began to tug on the pair of pants which were nearest the vicinity of my bed.

"Whoa, not so fast," my mom stopped me. "It's a rather fancy place. I'd consider dressing up if I were you." With that mere comment, she vacated the room, the faint scent of her perfume still lingering in the air.

I debated on whether retorting, "Well, you're not me," but decided against it. Instead, I sighed and rummaged through my dresser drawers for a decent clothing choice. In approximately three minutes, I had hastily dressed in tan khakis and a blue button down dress shirt, spraying a big of CKBe on as I left the room.

When I walked down our winding staircase, I observed that everybody had already arrived in the living room, including the Bensons. I felt awkwardly out of place at that particular moment. I reminded myself many times that this was only my family and Alana's family (basically my 2nd family anyway), but still I felt sheepish for my late appearance. People were so used to me being on top of things all the time.

"Nice of you to finally join us," Dad commented, shooting a rather irritated look in my direction.

I returned the glare and walked over to Alana. As I approached her, she turned on her heel and began a conversation with Isaac, as if my mere presence agitated her. Puzzled and hurt, I followed my family out of the house. We then slowly filtered into our white van and the Benson's silver Honda Accord and drove off to our dining place, with me still immensely confused.

The brunch was utterly uneventful and rather formal. It was featuring a buffet, so that's what we all ordered. Basically, we just ate. We rarely talked, but we ate. Then we returned back home, and were now seated in our basement. Alana had proceeded to avoid me throughout the whole meal and now, as we sat chatting nonchalantly, she managed to maneuver over to the other side of the room, farthest from where I was standing.

I was actually rather relieved when Mom suggested that we play a song for everybody on our instruments. We readily agreed, and set up to play our newest piece, Reason In The Sky. It was different from most songs that we'd ever written. It was very deep, and had a rather haunting melody. The guitar and drum parts were pretty mellow, while the keyboard took over the melody of the piece with alarmingly minor chords. The song didn't have a chorus, refrain, solo, or anything. It was just the melody and harmony along with occasional reprises from one of us. When we launched into the song, the group in the basement ceased their incessant chattering and grew somber as the eerie keyboard chords filled the capacity of the room, entwining themselves around any tangible thing possible.

What's the point of life?
I'd really like to know
Death occurs so much these days
It's plain hard not to show.

But aside from all that death,
All injury and strife
There's got to be a reason
For why we're in this life

Try as I might, I cannot find
An answer…but can you?
To why the grass is a luscious green
Or why the sky is blue?

Some days are optimistic
And filled with rich, pure luck.
But others sink right to the ground
And don't stop until you're stuck.

If no one knows a reason
Then what are we doing here?
Did God just put us in for kicks,
Or to go through all this fear?

Sadly these questions must remain
Unanswered until the day we die
But maybe, when our death day comes
We'll find our reason in the sky…
We'll find our reason…
…reason in the sky…

As the last word lingered in the air, the whole room burst into a sullen round of applause. Alana looked utterly taken aback by the depth of the song, but clapped for us nonetheless. My parents were also very surprised, for they had not been informed of the piece that had just been sung for them. After a lot of thanks and praise from the adults, save Alana, who sat motionless in the corner, they all trudged upstairs. Everyone except for Alana and myself, that is. I walked over to my keyboard once again and played a flawless chromatic scale up and down the instrument several consecutive times before stopping to look at Alana, who had now shifted her gaze towards me. My gaze dropped, and I pretended to be immensely intrigued by the complicated functions on the instrument that I'd come very familiar with over the past few years.

"Are you mad?" I inquired, my eyes not leaving the keyboard for a split second, pretending not to care.

"Nope," she replied, her voice monotone. A few moments later, she asked, "Is that song going to be on your album?"

"Which album?" I was puzzled. "We just released an independent album."

"Oh, but you'll make others in the future, no doubt. I mean, you'll get one signed by a record label sooner or later. You'll have to. You're too good to be rejected. Anyway, will that song be on it?" she repeated.

"Well, we haven't really thought about it. I don't think so…no. Why do you ask?" I wondered aloud.

"Because I really like that song," she replied. "Normally I don't pay much attention to song lyrics when they have a melody like that, but this time I did. And I totally understood where you guys were coming from. Did you write it yourself, Tay?"

"Well, I came up with the idea for it," I explained, trying not to sound too modest, conceited, or anything along those lines. "And I wrote bits and pieces, and did some switching around with parts, and we had a song." I paused and attempted to recollect what my previous intention had been. "Anyway, back to my original question, are you mad at me?"

"I already answered that…No." she repeated, growing a bit agitated by my pertinence questioning.

"Then why were you avoiding me?" I didn't even attempt to hide the hurt in my voice. I raised one eyebrow at her, a quality that I take pride in being able to accomplish.

Al sighed, and absently traced her index finger along the cracks on the arm of the wooden chair she was perched on. "I was confused, Tay. After what happened last night…I just couldn't handle it, I guess. I wasn't mad, I just needed some space to breathe…to…to think. It takes a while for reality to hit you when you're about to leave basically your whole life behind."

I nodded, vividly recalling what it had been like for me when we moved to South America years ago. "I can sympathize with that. But ignorance and avoidance simply aren't the answers, Al. You have to take it in the best way possible, or you're going to end up even worse off. I'm talking from experience here."

Alana smiled and for the first time that day, actually looked like she meant it. Her mom appeared in the door frame a moment later, peering down the steps curiously.

"Al, honey! We have to do more packing now!"

Alana groaned and made a face at her mother. "Packing, packing, packing. Is that all we do nowadays?" she muttered to nobody in particular.

I chuckled and watched her sulk up the stairs, the floorboards creaking reluctantly. "See ya around, Al."

"Bye, Tay," she concluded, casting one last longing glance in my direction before following her mom out the door, leaving me isolated in my barren basement all alone.

Email: angelkiss14@hotmail.com