Short Stories

The Return

~ Published in Windscript magazine - won the Jerrett Enns Honourable Mention Prose ~

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Memory. It comes back to me in a white flash of heat, in rays of summer sun beating down on freckled skin and reflecting in my young blue eyes. Water splashes, refracting light into rainbows. I hear giggles nearby, and I turn to see Greyson in his eight-year-old glory, showing all his mismatched teeth, waving at me. “Come on!” he says. “Jump in!”

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The part of me in the present urges me forward. But memories are memories, and I cannot atone for the mistakes of the past. My younger self shakes her head, pulls back into the shade of the old oak tree, and watches my brother play with our other siblings in the blow-up pool. The cries of joy echo through my childhood backyard, lingering a moment longer.

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Memory. It vanishes from my mind and the present seeps in, taking me back to the TV flickering before me with an image of children swimming at a pool. I lean forward on the couch and turn it off, my hands clutching the remote as though it’s the only thing tethering me to the memory. I will it to return, but some memories are like that. They come one day, and then, they are gone forever. 

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Finally, I drop my remote and get to business. Check my emails. Texts. Then, make a todo list for tomorrow, ignoring the guilt throbbing in my heart. I’m just overtired; I need to relax, I tell myself. My phone reads 9:44 PM, and I figure I have enough time to watch one more episode of that summer show. A part of me hesitates before grabbing the remote and clicking on the TV. A part of me is relieved when there’s a knock at the door, and I stand up, dropping the remote. My surprise is apparent as I answer the door.

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“Hello?”

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I peek through the door, open a crack. Faded blue eyes stare back at me and I gasp, opening the door wide. 

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“G-Greyson?”

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“Aria,” Greyson says, almost sheepish. He looks down at his shoes, his face a mask of emotions. Tight-lipped and cold. The same as I remember, even if he is an adult now. “It has been a while, I know.”

 

I stare at him. My fists curl, then release, curl, and release, but my breathing is shaky with each inhale. I blink once, twice, wondering if my memory has finally ruined my imagination, but no. Greyson is standing before me. My little brother.  My biggest regret.

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He says something but the world spins. He becomes blurry as I shut the door in his face; I, oblivious to everything real in the world, drop down on the floor and shake my head. Greyson, Greyson, Greyson, I think, tears spilling onto my pajamas. Greyson, where have you been?

 

More memories are drawn up from my panicked mind: Greyson, pleading for me to play chess with him. Greyson, asking me to go to a movie but I was too busy. Greyson, swearing at me with a sneer twisted on his lips, saying, “To Hell with the family.” Saying that we never loved him. Never cared about him.

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You left for ten years, I want to scream at him. I lost you. Everyone lost you. You, Greyson. You don’t know how much it hurt. 

 

At the same time, all the pent-up guilt from the past ten years spills out onto the floor of my apartment in salty tears, creating a stream of regret. He’s outside; I can bet he hears me wailing my pain into the cracks of my apartment. He knows the torment has killed my soul a hundred times over, and maybe he is still there, waiting. Oh, he better be waiting. I pray to God he is still there. A voice in my head tells me to open the door, to say something, to make him stay. My little brother is still there, yes, he is, I know Greyson, I know I hurt him but he is still there he won’t leave he can’t leave I can’t lose him again not again no. Fear freezes me in place, drowning out the voice in my head. 

 

He will leave again. I’ve hurt him too much.  But fear has lingered too long in my heart, and I stagger to my feet and open the door with trembling hands, hoping with all my soul that I have not lost this chance. The hallway is empty. I collapse to my knees, silent.

 

Greyson is gone.

 

“Greyson!” I shout into the faint hallway light. No answer reaches me, and my body shudders with each breath. So many words, so many things I’ve never said but waited a thousand times to say. I’m sorry.

 

I’m sorry I didn’t play chess with you.

 

I’m sorry I missed that movie you liked.

 

I’m sorry I didn’t jump in the pool on that hot, summer day in July, when all you asked of me was to be there. With you. A sister with her brother, celebrating childhood. 

 

I’m sorry you did not feel loved. You are.

 

A hand touches my shaking shoulders, bringing me back to reality. I glance up, blurry-eyed and sniffling, at the red-eyed face of Greyson, who pulls me into a hug.

 

“I’m sorry I left,” he whispers in my ear. “Not just ten years ago. I shouldn’t have left now, either.”

 

The comment breaks through the shock, pulls me through the veil of memory into the moment. This moment I have been waiting for, searching for, for years. I hug Greyson tight and laugh into his shoulder.

 

“Please, Greyson. Stay. I’m so sorry. Please, stay.”

 

He lets go of me and we smile our saddest smiles. After only a moment’s hesitation, he nods. “Okay.”

 

He enters the apartment, and I close the door behind him. It’s then that he sees the show I have been watching, and his eyes widen.

 

“The Lotus Flowers? I love that show!” he says with a laugh. I laugh too.