A November Homecoming

The November Christmas lights hug the sides of the buildings as I drive. I try to summon the feeling it used to bring. The drive went by far too quickly and now I’m almost there. I focus on the crunch of my wheels over the wet asphalt, the way the twinkling lights blur through the drops on my windshield. I pull into the dark driveway and cut the engine, savoring the dense silence for a few minutes. The neighborhood always felt like its own secret place at night. I could sit out here all night if I wished, I doubt they're even awake at this hour. They won’t expect me until the moon has gone down, but they’d be upset if I didn’t go in. I sigh and grab my bag, approaching the garage, giving into my exhaustion. My fingers know which buttons to press on the worn keypad guarding the garage. It mocks me with a red light. My bag slides from my shoulder with a soft thud and my fingers move more carefully this time, but still, the code is wrong. I don’t know why I expected them to keep the code the same after so long, but that distant feeling gnaws at my gut with the realization. I close my eyes and fill my lungs with the cool, wet air. I push back the growing feeling of guilt as I head to the front door and the ring of the doorbell echoes through the dark halls and back to my ears. After a moment, a shadow moves from inside and solidifies into my mother. The door creaks open and I hold back a surprised gasp as she wraps her arms around me. I have to adjust the strap of my bag to hug her back and after a moment break free.

“I thought you said you were stopping for the night?”

I shrug,

“I wasn’t tired.”

A familiar frown slides onto her face.

“You know I hate when you do that. You promised you wouldn’t do it all in one go.”

I nod, hoping to satisfy her. I step around her and inside to avoid further chastisement.

“I’m sorry I woke you. Am I downstairs?”

A quick shake of her head.

“No, I've got the bed set up for you in the office, downstairs is…well, the office will be better.”

I nod and give a quick goodnight. I drop my bag in the small room. Stripped of the posters and the bunkbed, the desk and filing cabinet seem almost comically forced. It takes longer than I’d hoped to fall asleep. I once longed for the darkness of this house, no streetlights outside, so secluded, but now it suffocates me. The silence urging my mind and the darkness pressing in as though the room itself is rejecting the presence of someone who doesn’t belong to it. The glow through the window rouses me before my alarm goes off. I get dressed slowly and sigh, even my clothes don’t feel like they fit me quite right, my shirt stretching uncomfortably across my abdomen and my pants too loose. The bathroom is the same at least. The warm smell of coconut soap and the shower curtain swimming with fish. A soft hum of voices and dishes downstairs confirms I’m probably the last to wake, despite my rising earlier than I’d planned.I ignore my exhaustion as I descend the stairs, my fingers sliding over the familiar gap of a missing baluster. My father approaches and hugs me tightly as I enter the kitchen.

“How was the drive?”

I smile weakly.

“It wasn’t too bad. There weren’t many cars on the highway so late.”

He releases me and moves to sit at the counter. My mother busying herself over a mug of coffee.

“When is everyone supposed to get here?”

My mother nods to the hallway.

“Patrick got here yesterday afternoon and everyone else should be filtering in throughout the day.”

I move to the fridge to grab a water rather than focus on the fact that Patrick is here alone.

“I know you wanted to stay in the basement, but It’d be easier to have Aunt Millie and Uncle Garrett down there since there’s more room.”

I nod, already headed to the fridge; avoiding lingering on the photos stuck to the sides of it. I grab a bottle of water and join my father at the counter. I take small sips and tune out my parents as the conversation drifts to phone calls and visitors. My eyes move to the window above the sink, looking out to the forest beyond.

“I think I’ll take a walk in the woods later if that’s ok.”

I say as their conversation lulls.

“Our woods? Honey, why not go around the neighborhood with me later instead?”

The crease between her eyes makes it clear where I’ll be walking later.

“Ok. I just wanted to see them sometime while I’m here. I haven’t been out there since we were kids.”

The words are out in the air before I realize my mistake, thankfully, footsteps from the hallway cut the words before they can linger. I’m up and hugging Patrick tightly before I really take in his tired face. Our hugs always feel forced, a lingering feeling from when we were still strangers, but this one means more somehow.

“Hey! I thought you weren’t supposed to get here until later?”

I pull back and shrug.

“I just drove through the night. It made more sense than getting a hotel for a few hours.”

He forces a smile.

“I guess that makes sense, avoiding traffic and all that.”

I nod and head back to my seat.

“Alright, I’ve got eggs, bacon and batter for pancakes. I hope everyone is hungry.”

My mother announces. My father nods enthusiastically as the sound of bags and boxes begin to inhabit the counter. I don’t know how to talk to them all. Being here like this, well, it’s harder without the buffer I'd come to rely on. The water bottle pops under my grip before I reign in my thoughts and set it back on the counter. I look out the window again, to the trees just beyond our small backyard. I just need to get out there, to breathe and let myself feel. My father nudges me playfully.

“About a year ago they cleared out a trail out there.”

My eyes shoot back to him.

“Really?”

He nods.

“Yeah, Mr. Pallings cleared out a trail for the neighborhood kids.”

I nod. It’s a nice gesture, a really nice gesture, but our woods; well our woods were always a wild thing. I can’t imagine trying to tame something that craved the freedom of mystery and magic.

“I wish he would have done it in his own backyard.”

My mother says tensely.

“Well, it’s technically not our backyard, hon.”

My father says in a tone that suggests they’ve had this conversation before. His phone rings and he’s across the room speaking softly in an instant. My mother continues to busy herself over the pancake batter and it’s just Patrick and I at the counter now. I reach for something to say, but the harder I reach, the blanker my mind. Thankfully, his voice breaks through my fog before the silence grows too heavy.

“It’s supposed to be really nice out tomorrow.”

Patrick says softly, his eyes now focused on the tiny window above the sink as well.

“Mmhm”

He chuckles softly.

“It’ll be just the kind of day she-”

I can’t breathe for a moment. My hand tightens on the edge of my stool and I stop listening, focusing on my father’s voice across the room instead.

“-tomorrow at 2. No, it's open to everyone. You can tell Cindy and the kids they are welcome-”

I’m on my feet, my breaths coming out a bit too fast. The blurred contours I’d so carefully crafted morphing into too sharp edges.

“I’m going to go outside.”

I’m across the cul-de-sac before I know what I'm doing. I feel too exposed, too raw, my eyes struggle to find anything to settle on. I take in a gasp of too cold air. The sound of a car coming up the hill pushes me to continue across the pavement. I shouldn’t have left like that. I don’t even know if anyone objected. If they had, I was too far gone to have heard. The last thing they need is for me to cause a scene like that. I look back and feelings of relief and disappointment war in my chest as I realize no one did follow me. I glance behind the house at the dark trees and the opening of a brand new trail. I turn away, it’s all wrong, how could they carve a trail into our woods? I take a few more breaths and force myself to turn back towards the house. I start as I see a shadow approach my own. My wide eyes lock with my mother’s worried ones.

“Sorry, I just needed some air, I shouldn’t have-”

Her arms around my body cut me off. I don’t hesitate this time. I cling to her as though if I can hold on tight enough, I can fuse my own ragged, drifting edges back together.

“I just-” my own choked sob cuts me off. She squeezes me more tightly and I feel her own body shake with the weight of it.

“Shhhh.”

She doesn’t say more than that.

“I need to go to the woods.”

I whisper shakily as my breathing evens out.

“Honey, just come back inside.”

I pull back, my voice accusatory.

“Why don’t you want me to? Why does it even matter to you?”

I flinch internally at my voice. I never yell at my mother and I know it’s unfair, but I can’t control the hornet’s nest in my mind from raging from my lips. She doesn’t speak for once. Why does it feel so awful that she’s not arguing with me on this? The longer her silence presses in the more I feel those edges coming apart.

“This is my home too! Why am I not allowed to go where I want in my home, mom?”

Her chin quivers and the sticky, hot shame slides across my body.

“I can’t stand it.”

She whispers. I don’t think I've ever seen her so unsure.

“Stand what?”

My voice is still too harsh, the frayed edges blossoming from the storm of emotions.

“I can’t stand to look out there and see one daughter where there should be two.”

Words like a compress, shattering every bone in my chest. There’s nothing to say, no words that can fix any of this. No words to fill the never ending canyon in that house. Without Heather-I can’t.

“Come on.”

She says gently, tugging on my arm. I follow her numbly into the house and my face slides back into that passive mask. Breakfast is ready. I slide into the stool next to Patrick as my mother serves us pancakes and I ignore the empty seat next to him, the empty seat that has turned this place into a mausoleum. I don’t look to the woods. The woods where my sister and I spent summers exploring, the woods where we built our own world. No, I don't look to the woods because that world is gone, the manicured trail writing a new story, a story she will never be a part of.