Road to Arcadia: the Path East

Chapter Forty: For What it's Worth

The evening carried on with deceptive normalcy. The matters at hand hovered in the air heavier than the proverbial pink elephant, but were never once acknowledged. His mother made dinner and set the table as if it were any other night, as if the world was still alive and warm and breathing.

Kai didn't do anything to contribute. His mind was a racing cacophony of jumbled thoughts, the mental equivalent of placing your head beside the tracks of an oncoming train. He could only sit on the couch, watching as his sister played with his nephew on the floor.

When dinnertime came, they all sat at the table and ate just before, like the days he couldn't count back to.

Kai sensed the desire to maintain utmost normality. It didn't need to be said aloud--in fact, there was a very apparent refusal to say it out loud--but each one of them knew there was a 50/50 chance this would be the last night the three of them spent together for the foreseeable future. Perhaps the last ever.

The conversation was casual. The chatter drifted until it was blowing off the dust collecting on old memories and they were sharing old stories. Opinions were carefully guarded, but laughter was pushed through where it was needed. It was nothing if not an escape to a place that existed only after its image had been rehabilitated by time and nostalgia. Kai didn't reject it. He felt a need to, but he didn't have the energy. He allowed it, in fear of the moments that had yet to pass.

After dinner, Kai found himself on the couch again, unable to get up and face the moments ahead. He was lulled into position by the sense of familiarity he couldn't deny his home had.

His disorganized train of thought was interrupted by a sudden weight in his lap.

Sara was standing over him, holding baby Edan over top of him.

"Uncle-nephew bonding time," she said, bobbing the child up and down. "It's uncle-nephew bonding time."

He reached up and replaced her hands with his, supporting the baby underneath his arms and bringing him to his lap. "God, you are so weird. I can't believe they even let you have one of these."

He turned Edan until they could see each other. "What's up, dude?"

The baby looked into his eyes, void of fear but full of curiosity. Edan was absorbing him, taking in everything he could now that they were in the comfort of his own home.

Kai took him in, trying to achieve months of familiarization in moments. He didn't want to forget any parts of it. He repeated the tiny discoveries in his head; the light bouncing of fabric, the smell of baby powder, the way his stringy patches of hair lay on his head. Every change in facial expression, the constant motion of gears in his eyes--Kai didn't want to forget a single thing.

This was just a sliver of his nephew's life. There were so many more moments, so many more experiences he could be a part of. The number of milestones ahead seemed insurmountable, even for an adult who had already worn the luster off them. He had to ask himself what he would do to see each one through.

No fitting answer came to mind.

The two of them stayed there, hanging out on the couch like a couple of guys being dudes, until Sara came by to take her son to bed.

"You should probably get to bed too, Kai," she advised. "You're going to need your rest."

He stood up as she left up the stairs, but couldn't bring himself to follow. He knew that in her own way she was right, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. No one was any closer to a decision. There was no way he could rest without knowing for certain.

"She's right," his mother said, coming up behind him. "We all need our rest."

Kai could only muscle out a defiant scoff. "If she keeps being right, I'm going to be out of the job soon."

"I'm proud of her. She's really grown up in the past year."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure anyone who has a kid has no choice but to. Even if they're kids themselves."

Lucine shrugged. "Not always the case."

They finally faced each other. His mother pulled her lips into a soft, sad smile. "I'm proud of you too, you know that?"

He shook his head. "You don't have to say that."

"But I mean it," she insisted. "I am proud of what you have accomplished. I want you to know that no matter what you decide to do, I know you will do a good job. I hope that your choice keeps us all together, but no matter what--" she caught herself. "You shine at your brightest when you have something to be passionate about. That is always something I will be proud of."

He reached out first, pulling her into a tight embrace.

She hugged back without hesitation.

They held each other there for a very long time. Words didn't need to be uttered to convey what they both knew. They were on two different paths. No matter what other truths existed in that moment, she was always going to stay rooted to the last remaining hollow of her family's tree and he was the seed destined to be carried off by the wind. They embraced like this was the last time they were ever going to see each other, because they both knew how likely that was.

"I love you so much, my dear."

"I know," he mumbled, pushing just enough air out of his lungs to carry the message. "And I love you, too."

They remained locked in their embrace for a little while longer.

She offered him one last glassy-eyed smile as she pulled away. "Good night, sweetheart."

He nodded once. "Night, Mom."

Kai retreated to his room, but he couldn't bring himself to lie down. There was still too much going on inside his head. There was too much on the line that he could feel slipping from his grasp.

The dull, aching nag of his sister's offer dug into him. There was nothing worthwhile about this old, collapsing town. There was no joy in working in a laborious warehouse or--god forbid--under his uncle's tutelage. There were no faces around town he was dying to see, in fact, most of them had probably died by now. The only motivations he had were his mother, his sister, and his nephew.

They were worth more than anything to him, but were they worth more than Arcadia? More than the R&R? More than Miriam? Meredith? Dani?

He tried to weigh them in his head, but no number appeared on the scale. There was no quantifying any of it. There was only feeling. Loose, flowing, fleeting feeling.

He did the only thing he knew how to do when his mind was mush and his body refused itself rest.

He reached for his bag.