Looking Forward

The sound of slamming car doors. Bright lights flashing, people surrounding me on all sides, white lights probing into my brain-I woke with a start. Looking around me with drowsy eyes, I glanced at the alarm clock. 6:49 A.M. Too early for me to be awake. I laid down on the bed with a sigh. I'd been having nightmares everyday for the past week. I didn't remember much from them except for a car, and someone laying on the floor beside me. But whenever I got close enough to see their face, I woke up again. Shaking off the feeling that something was terribly wrong, I got up and changed. I tiptoed downstairs as quietly as I could and made myself breakfast.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of footsteps coming from my parents' bedroom. I quickly ducked under the table, knowing that if my parents caught me awake so early, I'd surely be reprimanded. Afraid to make a sound, I watched as my mom walked out of the bedroom, looking as tired as I imagined I did. A moment later, my dad walked out too.

"Honey, you know what happened, we have to tell him." my mother said gently.

"No, we can't, it'll hurt him." my father replied solemnly.

"But if we don't tell him no one will, and he's hurt enough already. I heard him thrashing about in his sleep, I think he's having nightmares." Mom said. Nightmares? Are they talking about me? I wondered. Could this have something to do with my weird dreams? Taking a risk, I got up from underneath the table.

"Mom, Dad, what are you talking about?" I asked quietly. My parents turned at the sound of my voice and, judging by the looks on their faces, were surprised and not very happy that I was up so early.

"Jeremy, what are you doing up at 7 A.M.?" my mother said. I wasn't allowed to go downstairs until 7:30 A.M. on the weekends.

"What are you guys talking about, Mom?" I asked. Mom and Dad looked at each other sadly and lowered their eyes.

"Did something bad happen?" I repeated. Dad sighed and glanced at my mother for reassurance. Whatever he saw in her eyes gave him the courage he needed and he looked at me with solemn, sad eyes.

"Your brother, he-" Dad took a shaky breath. "He didn't make it." A piercing pain shot through my head, flashes of bright light, smoke, and the sound of car tires ran through my brain. I blinked, unsure what he meant.

"What do you mean? Like, he didn't do well on his test or something?" I inquired. A tiny voice in the back of my head said otherwise but I ignored it. My mom sighed again like this was what she expected, she stepped forward as solemnly as my dad had and lifted her eyes to mine.

"No, Jeremy, your brother, he-" Mom paused, just like Dad had, maybe considering if she should really tell me. “-he died.” My heart sank like a stone, and the tiny voice in my head told me “This is what your dreams are about.” But I shook my head and ignored it.

I laughed, which seemed to upset them more than me breaking out in tears would’ve.

“Yeah right guys, good joke but I know he’s fine.” I smiled, and their expressions filled with dread.

“Seriously guys, you can drop the act, see, I’ll go upstairs to check on him.” Ignoring their protests, I ran upstairs to my brother’s room. As I turned the doorknob, I caught a glimpse of a small scar on my thumb. Another rush of images filled my head. Smoke from a fire, bright lights rushing toward me, blank white rooms, someone collapsing. I gasped again, the images were more striking than last time. Where had I gotten that scar? I thought. Shaking it off, I took a deep breath and opened the door, knowing I’d see my brother sound asleep on his bed. As I walked into his room, a heavy weight settled into my stomach.

My brother wasn’t there. His room was as messy as I remembered but I didn’t see any sign that he’d been there recently. A newspaper sat on his bedside table. I picked it up and read the date.

“January 19th, 2023” I read aloud. That was more than a week ago. My brother only read the latest issues and threw out the rest. What did this mean? Another laugh escaped me, more strangled than the last one. I glanced in the mirror, my eyes were slightly bloodshot and crazy-looking. Oh, I guess my brother’s out relaxing or something, I thought. The voice in the back of my head started getting louder, telling me the truth I was ignoring. Brushing it off yet again, I donned a merry, cheerful smile, reminiscent of happiness I didn’t exactly feel, and skipped downstairs. 

“Hey, Mom, hey Dad! You didn’t tell me Mark was going out!” I said jollily. Mom and Dad looked at each other again.

“No, sweetheart, your brother died in a car accident last weekend.” My mom said more firmly this time. I thought back to the last time I’d seen him, my memory of the past week was foggy but I was sure I’d seen Mark this week. I chuckled again and my mom’s face sank.

“No, Mom, that’s not possible! I saw him this week, how could he have died? He probably just went on a little walk, maybe he’s at the park or something!” I smiled. Grinning from ear to ear even though I didn’t feel any hint of amusement, I retreated to my room. What is this feeling I’m feeling? Like there’s a balloon inside of me filling me up with fake happiness that’s going to pop. I was worried. But what is there to worry about? Mark will come back from his walk by lunch, and we can talk all about Mom and Dad’s little prank. Smiling yet again, I laid down on my bed, content to take a nap while I waited for my brother to come back. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

I was standing in the living room. Mark and my Dad were standing in the doorway, beckoning for me to join them.

“Come on, Jeremy, the store’s closing at 6, we better get going.” My father said with a smile. I followed them as they got into the car. 

“What do you want for your 13th birthday, little bro?” Mark said as he ruffled my hair from the front seat. Shoving his hand off, I patted my hair down to make sure it didn’t stick up too much.

“I want a drone that I can fly around the neighborhood!” I said excitedly. Dad and Mark both chuckled at my excitement and we were almost at the store. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a car running the red light to the left of us. I was about to warn my dad when-BOOM! The car rushed toward us and Dad swerved to avoid it. I heard a crash and pain shot through my left side. We were about to crash into a nearby home when Mark grabbed the wheel and jerked it left, in the process, he pushed Dad out of the car and forced my head down from the front seat. My head hit the bottom of the chair and I blacked out. 

The next thing I knew, there was smoke all around me and ambulances were rushing towards me. I was on my knees, surrounded by car parts. I saw a shadowy heap near me about the size of a human and crawled toward it. As I got closer, I lifted up one of the pieces of metal covering the person’s face. The sharp glass from the window cut my thumb but I barely felt anything. All I could do was stare in horror. Mark, my brother, my big brother, was lying in the middle of the heap. Mark who always protected me and supported me and promised that it would be okay no matter what. But this wasn’t okay, he wasn’t okay, and that was NOT okay. He had to be okay, if he was okay, I was okay, everything was okay, but-he wasn’t. Tears rushed from my eyes as the truth finally set in. I sat next to him, head on his chest, searching for any sign of life. Nothing. I knew that you could bring someone back who’s heart had stopped but it was too late. The ambulances were too late, they wouldn’t arrive in time. With this realization another round of tears hit me, and I cried silently for a long, long time. 

I woke up again, gasping, drenched in sweat. That dream was far more vivid than the others. It's almost like it actually happened. I thought again. But this time I couldn’t convince myself it hadn’t happened. I looked at my thumb and the small cut. Where had I gotten that from?  I wondered, but I knew where. The dream had actually happened, Mark wasn’t on a walk, he wasn’t going to come back. Ever. A sob escaped me, and I didn’t bother to hold it in, I cried, my eyes gushing with tears. 

I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually I heard someone opening the door. It was Mom.

“Sweetie, can I come in?” she asked gently. I nodded, hands covering my face. Mom sat down on the bed next to me, her sky blue eyes finding mine. I uncovered my face and sat up. Taking a shaky breath, I faced her.

“Mom, Mark, he’s-” Another shaky breath. “-he’s not coming back is he?” I asked. Mom gently shook her head. I didn’t feel like laughing now. 

“He’s not coming back. Ever. B-but he said that it would be okay. That-that he’d be okay.” I’d finished crying but I still felt like someone had opened a gash in my heart. Mom didn’t say anything but she smiled a sad smile. We sat there again for a while, but eventually Dad came in too. He just stood in the doorway, unsure whether or not to come in.

“Jeremy, we’ve been waiting for you to get out of the hospital, it’s time to go to his funeral. The mention of a funeral felt like salt on a wound. No! I thought. I don’t want to go to a funeral. That makes it real, I don’t want it to be real. My parents must’ve seen my unwillingness to go. Dad stepped back and Mom sighed. 

“Jeremy, honey, we’re waiting for you. You should go honor your brother.” She waited until I looked back at her. “Mark would’ve done the same for you.” That finally snapped me out of my trance and I got up with a new sense of determination. Mom and Dad left the room and I changed into more appropriate clothes. 

Checking my appearance in the mirror, I saw a boy with ruffled hair, red eyes from crying, wearing black from head to toe. I tried for a shaky smile and went downstairs. Mom and Dad were standing in the doorway, just like Mark and Dad were a week ago. Pushing back the memories, I took their hands and walked out the door. 

Maybe I’ll never truly feel better about Mark’s death. Maybe the emptiness in my heart will never fully go away. But I knew that I’d keep going, if I did that, it would be okay.