Where was the Lantern?

I shake off the excess rain water before stepping over the darkened threshold.

           “I’m home.” My voice bounces off the many surfaces of many things, but back to me. At a loss, I rest my umbrella against a mountain of knickknacks. My feet choose their footing carefully while forging a path across forgotten ground. The dampness of my attire accentuates the foreboding nature of this what I once called ‘home’. Everything is out of place, but I could not make out anything even if I wanted to. Eventually, I shrug off the coat, leaving it somewhere as I meander even further into the abyss. It is only after I have turned every corner that a familiar clacking whispers from beyond. I follow it, ignoring the weight of my other clothes.

           “Gabs.” The singular word takes a lot out of me. I have not said her name in many years, but it calls like a memory all the same.

           However, the referenced woman remains as she is. The illuminated screen betrays her visage with the mask of a ghost. Hair unseen, it is her bright eyes that give any sign of life to the image. Her mouth is twisted to the side. I can’t make out what she’s writing. Honestly, would I even want to?

           “Gabs,” I call again, forcing a louder volume.

           The clacking halts.

           My arms cross my chest.

           “They sent you.” A clammy presence drags its forearms down the sides of my spine, but I endure the shudder.

           “Well, they couldn’t exactly come here themselves, could they?”

           The ghost is made real as she turns to face me. A smirk. Her eyes shift over the sight of me.

           “Gabs, Tatiana and Jones are worried about you.” My feet stay rooted to the spot. The rain is still pouring above us. I could have been anywhere else but here right now.

           She looks at the keyboard in front of her, probably measuring her next retort.

           My lips curl in upon themselves; my eyebrows pinching the space between them.

           The silence wades as we have stepped into the same ocean at last, in spite of the opposing coastlines. I want to cross. I see land. She’s right there. With her back to me, yes, but she’s right there. If I shift stance, would she feel it? Would it beckon her to return the feeling? My arms press into my chest, warning me not to push my luck. I suck my teeth.

           “Have you eaten, at least?”

           A second passes without recognition, but she turns again. “Did you cook?”

           “Can you?”

           The smirk returns again; her eyes meeting mine. “Instant noodles does require machinery.”

           I roll my eyes. My arms loosen their grip on each other ever so slightly.

“I hope that that wasn’t Mom’s last meal.”

           The colour in her face pales before mine does. My abdomen sways from within with an anchor in my big toe. Bile threatens.

           “I am so sorry, Gabby,” I manage behind clenched fingertips. My eyes beg for hers not to abandon them.

           Request denied. Her back faces me once more, and I sink. Knees hit my chest; palms secure my landing between them. Ribs cage my heart.

           “Baka,” she whispers before the clacking resumes.

           My head settles against the doorsill. “Can you, at least, call me ‘idiot’ in English, please?” I look over at her for any kind of reaction, but her fingers persevere. Her interest in me has receded.

           Sigh.

***

           “Honestly, I am calling it quits.”

           Raging rainfall drowns out even this, the last line of my recorded confession to my other siblings. Of course, reception would be nearly non-existent out here. In the barely lit kitchen, I clamber around for utensils. A few flicks of the switches have professed the power of the stormy weather. The house itself has succumbed to the eerie silence left by its lack of autonomy. Shadows shift precariously with the daunting tree limbs beyond the window panes.

           “Seriously?” Again, I come up empty for anything that I want.

           Hand to wall, my feet meander through the intentional debris, clocking my shin more times than I can count. Why did Ianna and Jo ask me to do this? I was grieving with my own family. Is that not enough?

           The cramped hallways mock my inability to fit in. Tip-toe, tip-toe, I play a game with myself to distract from the memories of childhood. My eyes evaluate every frame of vision, not wanting to be knocked back unceremoniously by every flitting and shaking. Somehow, I return to the foyer. My back greets the floor near my luggage near the door. My stomach crawls along my spine, gnawing at it for a final meal.

           “Why is there no food in this house?”

           The heels of my palms dig into my facial structure repeatedly. The motion unsettles the hot springs of my eyes. The windows are leaking.

           “Ah, shit.”

           The gnawing stops. How long has it been?

           Stomp-stomp across the wooden floor.

           I keep my eyes closed.

           “Why didn’t you tell me that rain was coming in?”

           I grit my teeth behind pursed lips.

           A kick to my hip.

           “Why didn’t you tell us that she was sick?”

           No words.

           “Gabs!” I shoot up from my waist. My trainer would be proud. “Why?”

           Light has not returned as yet, but I can still figure her out.

There is no screen to illuminate her. There is no smirk to placate her. Her eyes rest heavy on their lids peering down at me.

I chew on the corner of my bottom lip.

Her nostrils flare as a breath escapes her. “Still hungry?”

Two blinks are not enough for me to process this question.

She sighs again, turning on her heel. Murky waves map her path against the walls.

“Damn those two,” I whisper.

Beyond this room, clanking resounds throughout the residence, harmonizing with the rain’s pounding beats at the most inopportune times.

I rub my eyes again. Is it even day or night? Tethered to the shared passage of time between us, I find myself following the makeshift sounds of preparation. As I round the corner, the remnants of flickering flames prance across the kitchen’s interior. For once, I am dazzled. Here, my sister’s features are not otherworldly, but haunting all the same. Her dark hair has grown since our last meet while her bones emphasize her sharpness. My throat coats itself with self-awareness.

Her hunched form leaves no room for acknowledgement of my presence.

“You could have told me that there was a lantern.”

“You could have asked.” A few moments later, her face pops up from behind the central island. Her genuine smile reinforces my guard.

“Would you have answered?”

Her chest carries the answer with her over to the stove.

I lean against a counter. “Do you –”

“I didn’t know.”

With her back to me, my ears strain to empathize with the vibrations wrought by her vocal cords.

“Mom,” she explains, “I didn’t know. It was sudden. One minute she’s fine and then, I am calling the ambulance. It was probably less than a week after that.”

I swallow.

“I had some savings. Opted for cremation. No need to visit a memory.”

I flick a tear away.

“I suppose I was lucky to get patched through to Tati and Jonny, everything considered.”

Heat paints my cheeks red.

“But, really, they didn’t have to send you. You have a family.”

My mouth opens. I am sure that I am about to say something. My lips crackle with anticipation. Taut thoughts ripple through them; my pores raising. My eyes beg for her to meet them this time. They are sinking.

“You…are my family.”

Her stirring hand stops. She turns to size me up. Half a smile. “Don’t force yourself.”

Nostrils flared, I lean toward her. “I’m not.”

Her back again. “But, you are.”

My heart presses itself against its cage.

Stirring noises dull the silence between us.

My mouth opens again, but she is already getting plates.

“Move the lantern, will you?”

I shuffle out of the way, looking back at our only source of light. At the time of my arrival, the table had already been set between us. I set the lantern gently. It is now that I am able to see the meal that she has prepared for us. It is now that I am able to take in its scent and exhale fully. The flames only delay the imminent darkness, mocking the shadows that surround us.

“Eat up,” she presses, already digging into the plate laid before her.

Her face is patchy to my eyes, moving in and out of focus while not moving at all.

I pick up my fork. “I am home.”