Imagine Us in Heaven

Ripples

I've attended many luncheon parties and awkward dates, but I've never felt discomfort like this. Since Dane's arrival, there's been a palpable shift in the mood, as if everyone is walking on a tightrope. The adults seem tense, while the twins remain unchanged, still asking me amusing questions and making me momentarily forget about Dane and his menacing aura.

"So, which cave have you been hiding in all this time?" There he goes again.

To my surprise, Ivor can no longer control his temper, and the cutlery clatters loudly on the plates.

"Can't you let him enjoy his meal before you bombard him with questions?"

"Bombard? This is the first time I've asked—"

"Dane, please..." Father intervenes. "This isn't the time for this kind of conversation."

Dane is visibly astonished by the way he's being treated, with veins popping on his forehead and his lips twitching. His wife, Larissa, places a hand on his, trying to soothe him. Meanwhile, I continue chewing my food, offering occasional nods and grins whenever my nephews ask me questions. Frankly, I'd welcome their questions over Dane's any day.

I expected this reaction from him. After disappearing for ten years, he's the only one who has acted exactly as I anticipated. But now that I've let go of everything that was holding me back from becoming a better person, I feel ready to hear and accept whatever he wants to say. If he wants me to take the blame for everything, I'd gladly admit it. If this helps him feel less antagonistic and more accepting of our sibling connection, then I'm ready to take the fall.

My bedroom remains the same after all these years, untouched by anyone. It's very clean, with new bedding and pillowcases—unexpected but pleasant. I take the time to unpack my luggage and fill the empty cabinets with my clothes. As I work, I pause to smile at the pictures plastered in the mirror, reminiscing about the memories each photo holds. I recall my old football team, my classmates, and my old band with Gavin.

These memories make me realize the time I've wasted, but whenever I feel that way, Winter's voice echoes in my mind. Opening old wounds shouldn't always be about pain. Sometimes, it's a chance to reflect on the things you've been through and the lessons learned. It can also help you find closure for the things you've left behind. It's true what they say—you can never run away from your past.

"Son?"

I look over my shoulder to see my father standing by the door. I've always known him to be kind despite his strictness. He was always willing to listen despite his high standards, and coming back here, I believe he has improved a lot since we last saw each other.

"Are you really not going to stay with us until New Year?"

"I'm sorry, Dad. Someone's waiting for me at home."

He looks surprised and excited. "Are we going to meet this certain someone someday?"

I hide a grin and pretend to be busy folding already-folded clothes. "Someday," I say.

He walks closer and sits on the bed, looking around my room as though he's seeing it for the first time. It's strange, but I guess it's true.

"Is this the first time you've seen my room entirely?" I jest.

He looks at me, slightly bewildered. "I've never been in this room since you left."

The words make my finger tremble for a moment, but I continue with my task, a little slower than usual. I'm unsure how to face him, given the solemnity of our conversation.

"Blythe, I've been a bad father, haven't I?"

I pause, reluctant to answer. "No, you haven't."

"You can be honest. I won't mind."