Waiting for yesterday UPDATED 이미 이루어졌다

사 chapter four- schoolyard competition

It suddenly occurs to me that my parents might not be alive. It's only been ten years but I've known classmates whose parents have passed away from cancer or another illness aged in their fifties. My parents would be in their sixties now. I want to make sure that my parents are so I tell Matt and his mum that I want to visit them. Turns out they live in the same house that we've always lived at. I drop Matt off at work first. He tells me that it's only been an hour and a half and he should be able to get back to work. He works at the hospital nearby.
On the drive, I notice that there's a pack of cigarettes in my car. I chuck it in the bin but not before Matt says, "are you really not craving?"
I wonder then what kind of life I've had in this dream. I can't imagine a life where I smoked. I can't imagine how my parents would have reacted to me smoking. They must have lost their minds. There is no way I openly smoked in front of them, surely?

"My parents will be pleased I guess," I say. "Do they know I smoked?"

"Your parents..." says Matt, "are amazing."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember when we reconnected, five years after high school," says Matt, "your parents brought you a pack of cigarettes to the hospital."

"I was in hospital?" I ask. "What was wrong with me?"

"You were just overworked and stressed."

"From teaching?"

"From hairdressing. Are you sure you're alright? What's going on with your memory? I think maybe you're overworked and stressed again."
"I'm okay," I say. I realise I know nothing about myself, the person that I was during those ten years that I've missed. I guess I was rebellious.

I drop Matt off at the hospital, telling him not to worry about me. Then I drive to my parents house. It's familiar, because I was literally there yesterday. But it's different. It looks cared for now, as though someone's been gardening. Taking care of it. Suddenly I hear someone say, "don't stomp on the strawberries please."

Someone is squatting with a pair of shears.

They're wearing a big straw hat and it takes me a long time to recognise my brother. He gets up and I see that he's very tanned. He looks like he's spent a lot of time in the sun. I guess he still lives at home.

"You still live at home," I say.

What I mean is, you care about mum and dad. But he takes it all wrong.

"So?" He says. "I have my own business and I'll be moving out as soon as I can."

He gestures to a truck, which I see has Bae landscaping written across it.

He gets up and dusts himself off. He goes inside the house, with me trailing him.

"That's pretty impressive," I say. "That you have your own business."

"What is it with you?" He snaps. "You always manage to make a person feel inadequate. You're projecting. Probably because you feel so inadequate yourself. It's not my fault all your classmates were so successful."

"Like who?" I say.

"Like Ethan Lee, the author. And"

Before he says anything further I rush into the house. The door has been left open. I rush into my old bedroom and search the bookshelf. If Ethan lee really wrote a book it will be here. I can't find it on the bookshelf though. There's no book written by Ethan Lee. I search the rubbish bin and find it. I don't know whether to be relieved or worried. Why was it in the rubbish bin? I must have been trying to get rid of it. I look at the cover and almost faint.

But not before I'm accosted by my dad.

"Check this out!"

He's holding up a drawing. I'm guessing that it's something that I did when I was really little and he's been feeling nostalgic and looking through the basement, but I don't have the time.

"Dad," I say, "that's really nice, but... but there's this book I need to read..."

"Just one minute," says dad.

"Alright, alright," I say.

It's a picture of what looks like three generations of a family. There's two houses, and a grandma and grandpa and kids.

"What, did my future kids draw it?" I say drily.

"No, I drew it. I'm an artist. I'm also a published author."

"Dad, I don't have time for this."

"Would you rather read my book or Ethans?"

"Dad, you can't make me choose that."

"Read both," says dad. "You have all the time in the world."

He hands me his book. On the cover, there's him. It's a memoir too. He's squatting, with a cigarette in his hand. There's snow all around him. I know this photo. It's from when he was in the military service.

Hey guys I'm just in the middle of editing, bear with me.