With Broken Wings (2013)

A House Called Home

I close my eyes as I take in the empty room around me, it's too much all at once. I feel everything that I've tried to hold inside building like a tidal wave, reading to come pouring out of me as I drag my hand along the dust covered piano. No one sits here anymore.

I can almost hear my walls coming crashing down around me as my breath snags in my throat. I'm about to cry, and I hate crying. Because it means that I'm vulnerable, and vulnerability can be used against you. So I blink back the tears and take a deep breath as I take one last look at the place that used to feel like home.

Now it was nothing but a ruin, a memory, a dust covered living room in a house he no longer owned. And never would again. That was still hard to digest, even now. I hated this, this feeling of emptyiness like I didn't know how to react. Then there was nothing but a crippling pain that brought me to my knees. I knew that bottling it up was a bad idea, but I didn't know what else to do.

So I let myself fall apart, curled up on the floor as I sobbed into my chest for what felt like years. All of this grief had been eating at me and I was finally letting it go. It felt good, like a weight off my shoulders, but it also scared the hell out of me because moving on meant forgetting and that was the last thing that I wanted to do.

I closed my eyes and breathed in, coughing as I sucked a lung-full of dust in with the air. I had to let this place go or it would be the death of me. It was leaving us anyway, I just had to make the choice to remember on my own. Because this house wasn't always going to be here to guide me, prompt memories I had thought forgotten in time. It wasn't going to be my second home anymore. 

Now it was just another old house, abandoned by it's former owners, with a story that no one else would ever get to see. And part of me wanted them to. I pulled myself up and walked over to the now moth eaten couch and pulled a pen out of the drawer of the small coffee table at its side.

I didn't think about what I was doing as I climbed on the couch, springs creaking under myweight and reached up. The heel of my hand rested on the wall as I scrawled my message along the peeling paper that had once been a lively sort of beige, if beige could be called lively at all.

A great man once lived here, and then one day he was told he had cancer but that they had found it too late. And so he left behind nine grandchildren, four children, a wife, a sister, a brother, and many more to grieve in sorrow for the loss of his guiding light in their lives. R.I.P Mr.Fix It, the world could use a lot more people like you.

I was startled out of my reverie by the loud creaking of the front door as it swung open to reveal a lanky figure, causing me to leave a streak of pen after the period. He sighed as he walked in the door, his boots making a distinctive thump that I would know anywhere with each step. What was he doing here? How had he known where to find me? Maybe I'd never know, but I suspected that despite not communicating much, he still knew me like the back of his hand.

The way I still seemed to know his favorite band, recall his favorite NBA player when he was thirteen and many other things I should have forgotten after all these years. I guess I was just as predictable to him as I had always been, an open book where to others I was unreadable. I shrugged and let my hands fall to my sides.

"Kris, what are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I got the feeling you'd be here and I guess I just wanted to see the old place one last time before they tore it down."

I bit my lip. "Do you ever wonder, what would have gone differently if he had lived?"

"You never would have become the you that you are now, that's for sure." He replied with a smile, hands tucked into his jeans pockets. "Never would have had the courage to step out of your comfort zone and let yourself shine like we knew you wanted to, that you could. You never would have believed in yourself like you do."

I shook my head. "And you? Would you have started talking to me again? Would we have mended things and been friends again? Because it's not too late you know, to make changes. Not yet anyways."

He bit his lip and shook his head. "No, I don't think that I would have. If things had stayed the same, well, I wouldn't have had any reason to you know? Despite secretly wanting to."

I smiled. "Yeah, I know what you mean. For real though, do you ever wonder what it would have been like to have him there to watch as you got married, as Savannah grew up, as we became adults, as Cole and Cam graduated?"

He nodded. "I used to think about it a lot, but I realized that thinking about it wasn't going to do anything but make it harder to move on. And maybe I didn't want to. But wishing that he would be there to do all of those things wasn't going to bring him back so that he could."

"No, but it sure made you feel like crap to know that he wouldn't be didn't it?" I asked, voice cracking.

"Yeah, it hurt like hell to realize that. But it got better eventually and we all made it through alright in the end. Not perfect, not fine, but alive. And that's what matters isn't it?"

I nodded. "I think he knew it would bring us all closer, he knew we were closer than our parents ever were what with all of the ridiculous feuding and all. And I think that maybe he'd be proud of us if he could see the people we grew into, smile if he saw us now. Because we made it this far together didn't we?"

"I guess we did."

He walked over and reached out a hand to help me down. I took it, dropping the pen as I stepped off the sofa and wrapping him in a hug.

"Don't ever let me forget okay? No matter how much it hurts, I always want to remember the man that made me who I am."

He nodded and I pulled away to hold out my right pinky.

"Aren't we a little old for pinky promises?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Never." I whispered. "And I get to break your pinky if you break the promise. We both know you've already known that pain and I don't think you'll be keen to face it again."

He shook his head and wrapped his pinky around mine. "Just like old times." He murmured with a smile.

"Just like old times." I agreed. "Before life decided to give us a damn lemon orchard."

"We sure made a shit ton of lemonade." 

I smiled as he slid an arm around my shoulders and led me to the door.

"That we did partner, that we did."

And together we took one last look at the place where we had practically grown up, before placing our hands on the old brass knob and pulling the door shut with a thunk. I let out a deep breath and turned to see Kris staring at me curiously.

"You gonna be okay?"

I bit my lip. "Honestly?"

He nodded.

"No, I don't think I'll ever be okay. But I'll live. Things can only get better from here right?"

He smiled. "Always more optimistic than you let on."

I shrugged. "A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do, and without a little hope, I've got nothing. So it's all I've got left to hang onto."

"You've got us too." He murmured.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'll always have you. And that's what makes family so special doesn't it?"

He smiled at me. "I like to think so."

"Family comes first, always." We muttered together as we walked down the drive hand-in-hand. "No matter what happens, you always have your family to count on."