On The Other Side

Chapter 21 - A Mystery

CLAY
—

It's around eleven a.m. The car comes to a stop, and my heart sinks. I haven't been here in ages because my dad wouldn't allow it.

"Stay here, I'll be quick," I tell Nick and George. They both nod as I exit the car and head towards the front door of the house before me.

I take a deep breath, my hands trembling slightly. With a swift motion, I knock on the door, and in that moment, I begin to second-guess whether this was the right decision or not.

The doors open, and it feels as though years of pent-up pain have been suddenly lifted from my chest.

"Clay," Grandma says, her voice trembling as tears start streaming down her face. I pull her into a tight embrace, and we both begin to cry, years of separation and pain melting away in that moment.

"I've missed you so much, Oma," I sob, and she squeezes me gently.

"Oh, my baby boy," she releases me and cups my face, her eyes scanning the bruises that mar my skin. "What happened to you?"

"I got caught up in some bad stuff, but don't worry about it," I whisper, but she shakes her head and lets out a deep sigh.

"Come in," she steps aside, making room for me to enter.

I shake my head. "I can't, two of my friends are waiting for me. I just came here to apologize."

She looks up at me, steps back to where she was, and grabs both of my hands. "You don't have to apologize for anything."

I nod. "Oma, we haven't seen each other in almost a decade. Did you just think I stopped caring?" I ask her, and she shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes again.

"I knew there was something else, I just didn't know what," she whispers, her voice breaking.

"Damian wouldn't allow me to visit you. One day, I attempted to take a train to see you, but he put a tracker on me," I explain, and she hugs me tighter.

"Please, stay," she cries, and my heart breaks. I've never seen her so sad, not even when Pops died. She's probably so lonely. "Invite your friends in, and I can make you lunch."

"Alright," I nod and squeeze her gently, mindful of her small frame. I really shouldn't have agreed to stay here, because it's putting her in danger, but I can't say no to her.

She smiles at me, gently wiping her cheeks, and then disappears into the house, leaving the front door open. Returning to the car, I open the passenger door and inform Nick and George, "My grandma wants to make us lunch."

Nick dashes into the house while I head to the back door and swing it open. George is sprawled across all three seats, sound asleep. I take my new phone from my pocket and snap a quick picture of him, cherishing this moment.

He looks so peaceful, that I don't want to disturb his sleep. I lift him out of the car and carry him inside the house, through the kitchen, and into the room I used to sleep in when visiting my grandparents.

Although it's not exactly a bedroom, as it's filled with various items like a sewing machine and a closet brimming with Oma's favorite jams, she always allowed me to decorate it like it was my own space.

I open the door, and a wave of nostalgia washes over me. I carefully make my way to the bed and lay George down. After tucking him in, I glance around the room, taking in the drawings I made when I was nine, the posters of my favorite band, and a Minecraft SMP map.

As I'm looking at everything reminding me of my childhood, exhaustion washes over me. Standing suddenly feels like a task. I shake my head, trying to clear it, and then quickly exit the room, gently closing the door behind me.

I walk over to the kitchen to introduce Nick to my Oma, but when I see them standing at the counter, cutting vegetables together and laughing, I realize it won't be necessary.

Nick looks at me and smiles. "Yo, Jules just told me some sick ass stories about your grandpa, he was a legend," he says and then turns back to the vegetables and continues cutting them.

"Yeah, he was," I say, smiling at the thought of Pops. He was such a bright person, always cheering me on with everything I wanted to do.

"Where's your other friend?" Oma asks, and I take a glass from the shelf, starting to pour water into it.

"He fell asleep in the car, so I took him to my room," I explain and then chug the whole glass of water.

"You two are probably exhausted too. You can go to sleep, and I'll wake you up for lunch," she says, but Nick shakes his head.

"I can't take a nap on an empty belly," he says and Oma laughs.

"A nap sounds nice," I say and Oma turns around and smiles, nodding.

"Sleep tight, sun," she says with tenderness and my heart melts.

Pops used to call me sun all the time. He said I had a radiant light that could shine through even the cloudiest days, whether others noticed it or not, just like the sun.

I tiptoe into the room, finding George snuggled in a corner of the bed, hidden beneath the blankets. Given that he doesn't occupy much space, and the bed is quite spacious, I gently lay down beside him, being careful not to disturb his peaceful slumber.

—

"George, Clay!" Nick whispers loudly and it's enough to wake us both up. We both look at him and he smiles. "Lunch is ready."

I gently shake George, who has slipped back into sleep. He groans in response. "Georgie, we have to eat," I whisper.

I extend my arms towards George's torso and playfully start tickling him. He bursts into laughter, and it's the first time I've heard him laugh so wholeheartedly.

"Ow, Clay, stop!" he yells between his laughs, and I immediately stop, letting him catch his breath.

"Let's go. You have to meet Jules." I stand up and offer him a hand.

He takes my hand and rises to his feet. I head toward the door, but he lingers by the bed, a smile on his face, looking around the room.

"Lovejoy fan, eh?" he asks, his eyes scanning the posters.

"Yeah, I was when I had time to listen to music," I say, playfully and then open the door. "I'm hungry, let's go."

We walk down the hall to the kitchen where Nick is already sitting at the dining table, and Oma is busy setting the table.

"Meet my grandma, Jules," I introduce George as I head over to the sink to wash my hands.

"Hello," George says.

My grandma welcomes him with a warm smile, but then her expression abruptly changes. She drops a plate, and it shatters on the ground.

"George?" Her voice trembles, and tears well up in her eyes.

How does she know his name?

—