Brand New Eyes

5. These Strange Familiar Faces

5. THESE STRANGE FAMILIAR FACES

What I’d give right now to see Michael face again.

All I wanted was a familiar face. It had been twelve days since dad died. Ten days since the accident. Ten days since the last time I saw Michael.

I didn’t understand why it didn’t make sense. I had faint memoirs of what had happened at the accident. One thing I knew for sure was that Michael was driving. He followed me up after the funeral; he drove me to the freeway and to the dirt path. So why did Slater say he found me in the drivers seat? It didn’t add up.

Maybe he’s the one who’s got things mixed up, I thought.

I stepped out of the cab; the rain had already stopped. This freaky weather didn’t help to add to my curiosity.

I stepped up the small pathway that lead up to Michael’s apartment. It was a small apartment-slash-bungalow. His parents had left it to him after they passed when he was young. I removed the key from under the plant pot outside his front door. He wasn’t subtle at hiding anything.

I turned the key and stepped inside. It was dark inside, the curtains were drawn close.

I opened them. There was enough darkness out side. It was exactly how we’d left it before we went to the funeral after I spent the night at his. The blanket on the couch from where I’d slept the nights after dad’s death. There was no sign of him. I called out his name a couple of times, knowing that there’d be no answer.

I walked across the hall, past the kitchen into his bedroom. Typical Michael, laundry everywhere, clothes scattered. But no Michael.

I opened the curtains in there too. As I passed to leave, I couldn’t help but notice the photo frames on his shelf. Many of them consisted of him and I. After all, we were pretty inseparable.

There was one photo frame pushed to the back, of when we were young. Eight, I think.

It was winter, the snow had just fallen and I gathered dad took the picture since I was on a sledge, cheery faced as always whilst Michael had the ropes tied around his shoulders, pulling a macho face. I laughed out aloud as the memory collapsed before me. I felt the icy snow fall as I giggled aloud and Michael huffed and puffed.

"You are so mean!” he said, pulling the sledge.

“Am not” I replied.

“Yes you are, you should be the one pulling me, sledges are for boys not girls!”

“They’re not, are they dad” I said, looking to face dad who was grabbing the camera out of his pocket, a small smile on his face.

“Just stop fighting you two” he said and Michael looked back at me, pulling a face. I blew a raspberry in his face and he stopped mid-stride.

I cried out, “No, don’t stop; go faster, we’re nearly at the hills!”

“What’s the magic word?” he asked, chuffed.

“Cheese” dad interjected, “Both of you, say cheese before the snow starts falling faster and we’re stuck out here”.

And of course, both of us blurted it out cheerfully as dad took the picture.

The picture that now had tears stricken down it.

I wiped it away, along with the fresh ones that escaped my eyes.

“Where are you Michael” I whispered, trying hard not to cry.

I was about to place the frame back onto the shelf when I heard a noise at the far end of the house. It was loud enough for me to hear.