Thank You

Dashiell

Why didn't you stay with us ?

My face must be as clear as answer as if I'd spoken right to him because he goes on swiftly, his voice and hands slightly shaking.

"I was young, but I didn't forget. They all tell me it's impossible, and that it'd be more likely for me to have forgotten all about it. Traumatic amnesia, or something like that. But you understand. You have to. Even Roman can remember what happened that night. He doesn't really remember much about the weeks before that, but I do. I do. I remember for a time she was smiling more ; she seemed a bit happier. And then she was more miserable than she'd ever been. We were kids, but we weren't stupid. We could see some shit was going on. Some stuff no other kid was seeing at school. I mean, yeah, sure, we didn't know what it all meant, really, but we knew something was off. And now that I look back at it, yeah," he chuckles dryly, humorlessly, "some things definitely were off. But for a while we could see she was more cheerful. It was when you were around. And that night, when you came to get us, she was happier than we'd seen her in months. I was six, but when you live around someone like Andrew Upton, you get it pretty quickly, that whoever's on the other side of the door making your mother smile is someone good. And she asked you to keep us safe, didn't you ? I know it was impossible for you or for anyone to save the last of us, but Roman and I were there. So why didn't you stick around ? We needed you. We needed someone who remembered our mom, and someone who understood who she really was. Someone who understood what we witnessed. Someone who understood us. Why didn't you stay with us ? We needed you, but I'm pretty sure you needed us too. We could've helped each other heal. We did what we could on our side, and I'm sure you the same on yours, but it could've all gone so much better if we'd been together. I'm sure of it."

He hasn't blinked once yet, and neither have I. I can't seem to detach my own gaze from his.

"I don't blame you ; I mean, I understand. Maybe you thought it was the only way you could survive. By getting out. By escaping. Maybe it was easier. I get it, if I'd been you, I probably would've done the same. But all these years, in my small room at boarding school, I couldn't help but wonder what it would've been like if you'd stayed. I couldn't help but wonder where you were. I didn't know you, but I felt some sort of connection, you know. I wanted to meet that girl that made my mom so happy she could go on and survive the Hell our father put her through. And there we are."

There's a silence. Of course, noises from the bar keep fusing all over, but they don't seem to reach us. With his words, he built our very own bubble, like his mother had done so many years ago. We stay silent for what feels like hours, gazing into each other's eyes. I know I have to break this silence.

"Do you not blame me ?"

My voice is hoarse and weak. I hate it.

"No. No, I told you ; I get it. I get it that you needed to leave that city. I mean, if I'd had the choice, I would've done the same."

"No, no, that's not what I meant..." I pause for a second, filling my lung with air, closing my eyes and feeling every inch of my body shakes uncontrollably, "Do you not blame me for what happened that night ? For what happened to her ?"

A genuine look of incomprehension shows on his face. He's not much older than I was when it all happened. He was so young then. Too young.

"What ? Blame you...? No... No ! Of course, I don't ! It wasn't anybody's fault but his !" he says with apparent disgust, "No, of course I don't blame you. I blame him. But he won't get to hurt anyone. Got it coming for him, that asshole."

Not a year after his arrest, Andrew Upton had been brutally beaten to death with his not-so-friendly jail companions. The life of a criminal cop. As much as I'd been keen on keeping away any news from that cursed city where all my trauma had been born, the name Upton had appeared as big as the headline, no matter how slowly written it was in the corner of a newspaper. It had made me feel empty. He had deserved it, for sure, but I think I would've liked it even better if he'd had to stay alive longer and live with himself, his remorse, and the violent bullying for a few years before anyone could punch a last breath out of him.

"But I've never blamed you for anything. Same goes for Roman. Why would we blame the one person who brought a bit of peace to our mom ? If anything, you just made it all better for her. I hate to say this, but... the way everything was happening in our house, it would've happened eventually. If not then, it could've been the next day. It was getting to a point where we half expected something terrible when we walked back from school. We weren't clueless. So, you just made it all better before she left. She had someone to love and to love her in her last moments. Could never blame you for that, right ?"

"But if I hadn't come up with that stupid plan, she could've lived longer."

"What would a week have done ? I'm sure she liked it better quick that way than beaten up and raped. And she was with you. She got to say goodbye. I'm sure she liked that a lot better."

I feel like I have a hard ball in my throat choking me. A ball filled with all these feelings I thought I had buried so well over the years, but that had started to burst last night.

"You do know she had someone to love and to love her before she knew me, don't you ? She had someone who made her happy. You. You and your brother."

And for the first time, he breaks the connection between both our gazes.

"She loved you so, so, so much. Both of you. You were the reason she didn't just run away. She cared so much for you. She would've done anything to protect you. When she talked about you, you could just see how much love she had for the both of you. You made her happy. Don't you think you weren't enough to make her happy, alright ?"

"You made her look happier."

"Only because three people's love is even better than two's. My contribution alone wouldn't have had the same effect hadn't you boys been there. I didn't do much, really."

He looks back at me and feebly smiles.

"What's your name ?"

"Dashiell."

"Would you like a trip down memory lane with me, Dashiell ?"