Journey to the South

Submitted into Contest #57 in response to: Write a story about someone breaking a long family tradition.... view prompt

2 comments

Drama

I was about to turn forty-eight when my father died. I didn’t expect that. I called my boss, threw some clothes in a bag and the bag in the car, and drove south.


The trip took me all day. A few times, my blurred vision forced me to park the car on the side of the road. I wondered why — I didn’t like my father, did I?


I stopped a few miles from the village, just after the pass. The mountains weren’t very high, five or six hundred meters above sea level, but the valleys were very deep, the road winding. Scrubland and pines as far as the eye could see.


The village was built on a hill at the junction of the three valleys. About fifty old houses, high and narrow, with tiled roofs more or less well maintained. On the outskirts, a mill that a tourist had bought and restored when I was a child, recent houses that I didn’t know of. On the south-facing side of the mountain, vineyards with blackened vines. I wondered if winter pruning had already started. I looked for my father’s vines and spotted some of them. I didn’t know where Lenny’s were.


Lenny had spent his whole life here, Keith his teenage years. I had never stayed more than a month at a time, during the vacations. And I hadn’t come for twenty-five years.


* * *


Keith opened the front door and came to greet me before I even got out of my car.


“Ethan! You’re here at least!” He hugged me, I stiffened.


“Hi, Keith,” I said, stepping back. “When did you arrive?”


“This noon. Laura will arrive tomorrow with Johnny. The funeral is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Come in quickly, the wind is cold.”


Frosty winters, scorching summers. It reminded me why I had preferred to settle in a temperate region.


The main room of the house had changed little. Red terracotta tiles on the floor, white walls and black beams on the ceiling as before, but the appliances in the kitchenette looked new, and a stove had replaced the large open fireplace.


Sitting around the table that took up most of the room was a couple in their thirties and three young boys. Keith introduced us. I had recognized Lenny, of course. From a skinny, angel-faced kid, he had grown into a handsome muscular man. He looked more like his mother than our father. His wife seemed nice, the quiet and rational type. Their sons played shy.


During the meal, Keith and Lenny discussed the arrangements they had made for the funeral. They talked about people I didn’t know. I kept my mouth shut. I was born in this house, and yet I was just a stranger visiting.


* * *


Keith was already up when I came downstairs the next morning. I hadn’t slept well.


“Tea? Coffee?” Keith asked. He looked like an older brother who wants to talk about serious matters.


“Tea, thanks. Just tell me where to find the bags.”


“Don’t worry, I’ll get another cup of coffee anyway.”


He placed a steaming mug in front of me. Lipton Yellow, my hated one. The tea was already black, I immediately removed the bag.


“Lenny’s busy this morning,” said Keith. “We have an appointment at the funeral home at eleven o’clock.”


“I know, you talked about it last night.”


“He won’t be able to manage Father’s vines in addition to his own, I intend to take care of my share. What about you? The old folks here will be happy to see you, they remember you very well.”

I couldn’t even remember their names.


“Are you planning to move here?” I asked.


It was his dream. He would have realized it long ago if only he could have gotten along with our father.


“Yes, but not right away, Johnny needs to finish high school. In the beginning, I’ll come depending on the work in the vineyards.” He suddenly looked up at the ceiling. “We’ll have to maintain the house, too. Lenny told me that the roof has to be redone. The three of us will work it out. He’s a good guy, you’ll see.”


I slowly turned my mug in my hands. I didn’t want to drink this tea any more than I wanted to be in charge of a house and vineyards hundreds of miles away from home.


I looked at Keith. As always, he seemed to expect something from me. That bond that no longer existed between us since he came to settle here as a teenager. Without me.


I pushed my mug away and stood up.


“I’m going for a walk.”


“Okay.” He looked disappointed. “We’ll meet at Lenny’s at a quarter to eleven, do you know where he lives?


“Yes.” At least I knew that.


* * *


Thanks to the winter’s weather, I managed to cross the village without passing anyone. I climbed up to the mill and sat down a little aside, on a big flat rock. I hugged my coat around me, I was cold, and not only because of the wind.


I knew Keith’s dreams. To live in this lost place like our father and his father before him, watching his and Lenny’s sons do what we did when we were kids. Running through the narrow streets with the other local kids, go for a swim at the water reservoir of the neighboring village. Camping in one of the family’s gardens, gathering vine shoots to roast sausages and keeping the fire burning all night to keep wild boars and snakes away. Dancing and flirting with the girls at the village festival. The eternal restarting of successive generations, in a place where Nature still has its rights.


My phone rang. My boss. “Ethan? How are you doing? Sorry to bother you, but it’s important.” He seemed elated. “I suggested to the boss to choose you to replace Dalbert, and he just accepted. That’s quite a promotion, you’ll see the pay rise!”


I found it hard to share his enthusiasm. I wasn’t in the mood to think about work. Besides, Dalbert’s position didn’t particularly interest me.


“I’ll have to reorganize your team, well your future former team, that’s why I’m calling you ... What’s that noise? The wind?”


“Yes.”


“Well, it’s no joke in your country.”


My country. I looked at the village lying at my feet. Was this really my country?


* * *


I spent the afternoon pruning the vines with Keith and Lenny. More precisely, they spent a good part of the afternoon at it. I had never been a manual worker and I stopped quickly.


I found a large rock and sat down. From there, I could see the entrance to the cemetery, its old wrought-iron gate framed by two huge cypress trees. An undertaker’s van was parked on the small dirt road. I could sometimes hear pickaxe blows.


My father would rest there, as he had wished. He had wanted to come back to live in the village after his studies, and this had cost him his first marriage. Maybe even the next two. Had he regretted it? Had he cherished other dreams? I doubted it. Respecting family traditions was his only credo.


“Ethan, I’ve been talking to the Baileys,” Keith said suddenly. “They agree to sell you the house their son occupied before his marriage. You know, the little one near the church? The price is quite reasonable. You’re almost done paying yours, aren’t you? You can sell it easily. That way, I’ll stay in Father’s house, and I’ll buy back your shares from you and Lenny as soon as possible. When Johnny will finish high school. I can’t sell before then, you understand?”


I couldn’t answer.


“It always hurt me to see you alone, Ethan. I know you’ve never gotten over our parents’ divorce, but from now on at least you’ll stay close to your family. And the Baileys’ house isn’t that small, so two people can live there together without any problems. There are good women around here. What do you say? In your job, you can work anywhere, can’t you?”


He decided my life as my boss had decided to promote me: with the best intentions in the world. Did my life seem so messed up to them? Okay, I was single with no children, I wasn’t earning hundreds and thousands, but still enough to live comfortably and afford me a nice house in an area I loved. It was my life. Not necessarily the one I imagined in my youth, but the life I had built stone by stone. I was proud of it. And I still had time to try and make some dreams come true. My dreams.


“I’m going to refuse the inheritance,” I said.


“What?!”


Keith walked towards me, stopped dead. He was angry. Terribly hurt. I realized then how much the distance between us made him suffer. I hesitated, but I couldn’t back down.


“I’m not like you, Keith, I’ve never lived here. The vines, the house, the traditions, it matters to you, but not to me. I don’t want all this. Even if I inherit, it will eventually come back to you since you’re my heirs, so it will cost you less in estate costs if you share it between the two of you now.”


Keith opened his mouth, closed it without saying anything. He turned around abruptly and walked away, furious.


“Are you sure?” Lenny asked, speaking to me for the first time since my arrival.


“Yes. I’m glad I saw you again and met your family, but my life isn’t here.”


“I understand.”


He nodded, as if to confirm his own words, and resumed his work. I felt as he really understood. I picked up my pruning shears and resumed my work as well.


“Don’t worry about Keith,” I told him after a while. “We always end up arguing, he and I, but it passes. He doesn’t hold a grudge.”


“I know.”


The silence stretched out.


“You have my number now,” Lenny said suddenly without looking at me.


“Yes.” I hesitated. “I’m not very good at giving news, so don’t blame me if I only call at Christmas time. That doesn’t mean that I don’t think about you.”


He smiled briefly.


“I’m not very good at giving news either.”


“Good. Do you have my number?”


“Yes.”


The silence lasted. For a long time. Peacefully.


I liked working shoulder to shoulder with Lenny, in that silence. I even came to think that maybe, if he had been the eldest, life wouldn’t have managed to separate us like Keith and me. Maybe I wouldn’t wait twenty-five years to come back for a visit.


* * *


Keith refused to speak to me again, or even look at me. The quarrel between us was probably going to last longer than usual.


After the funeral, I greeted Lenny and his family, and headed north. I was going home.


My phone rang. My boss. “Ethan? How are you doing? Sorry to bother you, but it’s about Monday’s meeting—”


I cut him off. “Thank you for thinking of me, but I refuse the promotion. I like my current job and I don’t want to change it, especially to spend my days in meetings, it’s not my thing at all. And please don’t call me anymore. In case you’ve forgotten, I just buried my father and I’m on leave!”


“Ah. Um ... sorry.”


“That’s it. See you on Monday.” And I hung up.


I scrolled through my music and played Guns N’ Roses, full volume in the car. No one at my side to tell me to turn it down or criticize my choice of song. Seriously, married men have no idea what the true benefits of celibacy are!


* * *


“Embrace nothing. If you meet the Buddha, kill the Buddha. If you meet your father, kill your father. Only live your life as it is, not bound to anything.” Genjô Sanzô (Saiyuki)

September 04, 2020 17:08

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2 comments

Lani Lane
16:02 Sep 10, 2020

Hi, Kensa! I received your story from the Critique Circle. :) This was a really interesting take on the prompt, and that last sentence was a twist! Great use of dialogue here. It really helped paint your story.

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Kensa H.
11:28 Sep 11, 2020

Thank you !

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