The key of the forest

Part 1

"Hey sis, are you ready to head out? It's gonna be a magical night!" Ryan winked at me while jerking his head. How he managed to charm any girls was beyond my comprehension. I scoffed and shook my head at him.

My brother had been anticipating this night for weeks. Despite being only two years my senior, he had gotten a fake ID in his late teens and was well-versed in the club scene within a one-hour radius of our city. "I'm just coming for one drink, that's it. And I'm only doing it to get you off my back until the next year." Ryan had pestered me to plan a celebration of this day. Eventually, I agreed, knowing I had no other plans and it would just be the two of us.

"I'll make sure you enjoy it, sis. We're heading to a laid-back club with jazz music and interesting people." Leaning against the bathroom doorframe, Ryan flashed his signature relaxed smile and it warmed my heart. His presence eased the tension growing in my chest, reassuring me as I prepared for the night. I tried to brush out the last tangles in my long blond hair. Usually I had it in a ponytail or a sloppy bun, hair care was not something high on my to-do list, and I was paying for it now. The brush stuck on a big knot and I winced trying to brush it out. Ryan stepped inside the bathroom and took the brush from me and started to untangle it. We stood in silence while he brushed it out. He handed me the brush back and gave me a moment to collect myself. Ryan had a knack for understanding people and adapting his approach to get their trust. It was a skill that had undoubtedly contributed to his promotion as manager at the local car dealership, where he consistently exceeded sales records.

Putting back the brush on the sink, a flood of memories from past adventures resurfaced. "Remember that crappy music festival? I was knee-deep in mud, all thanks to your idea of 'interesting people'," A smile tugged at my lips. The festival had been a disaster, a cover for a gathering of hippies in the woods. The memory sent a shiver of cold down my spine and a phantom pain of mosquito bites started to itch along my legs. Those bites had lingered for weeks afterwards and I almost thought they would never heal. But now there was not even a mark left of my legs.

The music festival had been one of our last memories together as ordinary siblings. Ryan had persuaded me to come because he had heard from some friends that a weird underground band was going to play. But after finding the place all we saw was hippies dancing around some old boombox and massive speakers. Going on adventures back then hadn't been a problem, it had almost been fun and something I looked forward to.

Shortly thereafter our parents had died in a car crash and Ryan being a legal adult, had stepped up to take care of us. The first days after the accident was all a blur. All I can remember after hearing the what had happened was crying. Then I suddenly picked up Alice in wonderland and lost myself in the story. Before that I hadn't really been that interested in books and I had been to lazy to empty my bookshelf of all my old children's books. If I focused enough I could almost smell my old bedroom and feel the old rug I sat for. I sat there for hours or maybe even days, just reading old books. Ryan had taken the news with resolute chock. He took a moment to process and then got to work finding out everything he needed to do. Selling our childhood home and getting a two-bedroom apartment closer to the city, filling out paperwork and doing a small burial service. He had made countless sacrifices to provide for me. Despite his efforts, I grew more and more introverted and started to dislike big crowds and social gatherings. I closed myself into a shell of shyness and introversion, immune to his attempts to draw me out. He felt guilty for not being able to give me the same experiences that he had enjoyed in his early teenage years but at the same time he couldn't carry both our griefs. We needed to grieve in our own ways and he gave me that time. He was always there making sure I was doing okay, prepared food and made sure I got to school on time. 

As time went by he started going out again reclaiming his identity as the popular guy, while I found solace in solitude. It was almost as the more outward he became, the more inward I started to be. He needed to feel like he was not alone and I needed feel secure and alone with my books. We had been really close when growing up and we didn't really understand each others process grieving. My loneliness gave me security and I found peace in the silence. But Ryan had loathed the silence and being alone, he needed other peoples energy to feel better.

When I graduated high school we ate dinner together, for once splurging on a restaurant. Around us other families sat and also celebrated their children's graduation and talking about college plans. Ryan had mentioned that if I wanted to go he could pick up a second and maybe even a third job to finance it and letting me focus on my studies. I had seen all the things he had done for me and I couldn't allow him to go on by himself anymore. So I told him that I was not planning on college and would go looking for a job straight away. I could see his shoulders relax at once and he had let out a breath a bit louder than normal. I wouldn't let him carry me, I had to take my future into my own hands.

We still had moments together, cherishing our Sunday afternoons with television and ice cream. Even though we were both grown up and I had moved out, I still showed up for a late breakfast, cartoons and ice-cream every Sunday. Nothing was going to break that tradition. I knew Ryan had a social life but he seemed to plan around our Sundays as well, making sure that there was nothing to bother us not even letting 'girlfriends' stay over on Saturday nights. I had overheard his guy friends sometimes when he called me just to check up on me. They would shout something in the background before realizing it was me on the other end and then they would send their regards loudly. I was not close to any of his friends but they still treated me with kindness anytime we crossed paths. Ryan's protectiveness had rubbed of on his friends too, so they always stayed civil and asked if I needed something. 

Now it was Ryan's turn to roll his eyes at my recollection of the so called music festival. His deep almost grey eyes, a stark contrast to my own light green, held a hint of amusement and I could have sworn I saw a moment of sadness in them. Just like he had remembered that it had been our last outing before everything changed. "Okay, that was a misstep, but trust me, tonight's venue is more your vibe." While I appreciated his efforts to try and adapt to my preferences, clubbing was far from my ideal evening. I preferred staying at home, with takeout and a good book in bed. Nevertheless, I knew Ryan's intentions were to let me experience this with his help so I could decide if it was something for me. Always trying to get me to try new stuff, without his company I would probably never leave home. 

"We'll grab a drink, soak in some music, and then I'll whisk you home. Just come along, and I'll ensure no one bothers you." Despite recognizing the faked innocence in his puppy-dog eyes, I couldn't help but laugh at his persistence. "Fine, but just one drink! I have a date with my books at midnight." I repeated myself and emphasized the number of drinks I would be having with a raised finger, earning a grin from Ryan as he pulled me into a hug.

As he pulled away from me he glanced over my clothes and a teasing remark escaped his lips. "Looks like you're ready for a chill night, sis. You wouldn't even be let into the places I usually visit." I punched his arm, "stop being an ass just because I prefer comfort over fashion". My jeans that was a size to big hung loosely on my hips and my baggy t-shirt with my favorite band was as 'cool' as I could be. Working from home as a proof-reader for manuscripts meant that I rarely had a need to dress up and my closet reflected the fact that I spent most days at home. Ryan looked just right for going out with chinos and a shirt where he had rolled up his sleeves, which made him looked casual and not caring about his appearance. But I knew that he had spent a lot of time and money to look that way. His closet almost took up half of what used to be my bedroom in his apartment. As soon as I had gotten my job I had moved into a small one bedroom apartment not to far from his and moved out. I loved our Sundays together but hated his football nights with his friends and the noise they would make. When he was sure I could manage by myself and wouldn't be moving back anytime soon he had started to move his overflowing closet into what had been my bedroom. 

Glancing at the historical romance manuscript beside my bed, I felt a pang of regret at the thought of venturing outside. Yet, with a steadying breath, I reassured myself that it was just a few hours away from my sanctuary. What could possibly go wrong?