Finally

Part 28: Coming Home

It felt like forever.

Like years had passed since I had been in a building.

Then in a car.

In a plane.

I had spent two days in a Panamanian hospital getting rehydrated and looked over.

Now I'm coming home.

With nothing but a new set of clothes.

And a box full of Cassian's ashes.

I haven't really spoken since the doctor on the ship bathed me.

I haven't answered any questions or even attempted to call Helen.

How can I face her?

The father of her unborn child is dead.

That poor boy will never know him truly.

As much as I disliked him- I would have never wished this fate upon him or his child.

It's unfair.

Sitting in a taxi- leaving the airport alone...but not alone...

I stare at the city and feel nothing.

I'm not happy I'm back.

You would think I would be.

You would think I would be jumping for joy to be back home with my friends and family.

But I'm not.

How can I be?

How can I be happy when I lived and he didn't.

How can I face everyone?

How can I give his ashes to his parents?

Their son died.

For no reason other than unfortunate circumstances.

How can I show my face to anyone who knew him?

"Yo? Buddy? You're here." The Brooklyn accented cabbie states as he taps the seat in front of me to get my attention. Reaching in my pocket I hand him some money the fisherman gave me.

Their kindness knowing no bounds.

Getting out, I don't even take the change, I just walk towards the building, box in my hands and stare ahead mindlessly.

The New York noise is silent in my ears.

Everything feels heavy, but lack of muscle use will do that to a person.

Everything is decorated for the holidays.

Everything seems cheery and jolly.

Lighthearted and fun.

But I don't feel jolly or cheery.

My heart is heavy and there is nothing fun about this.

I float passed people.

Strangers and acquaintances alike.

I feel my sight glazing over and my deafened ears stinging.

"Max....Max...."

Vaguely feeling a small amount of pressure squeezing my arm, I blink my eyes a few times and the hazy glaze subsides. Before me is Karen Brantley- who not only seems concerned, but slightly joyed to see me. Her hand never leaves my shoulder.

"Max—are you alright?! We've all been worried sick about you. Interesting terribly sorry. I feel responsible for what happened and I..." I walk passed her without a second glance. My body propelling my forward as if I was the raft in the ocean.