Cursed - Adopted By Yogscast

Epilogue; What Was Left

It's been years since I found myself closing in on the old house. I know, deep down, a part of me needed to see it. If only for my own sake.

In the late afternoon, I gobbled down a good helping of potato salad, lovingly made by Joakim and Jennifer together, who still smile at each other from across the dining table and hold hands through Netflix movies.

My hands don't shake when I grip the handles of my bike- plastered with stickers by my girlfriend, Jay. I barrel down the long road, letting the joy of reading a GPS wash over me, the sensation of forgetting. Recognition of landmarks settling in too slow to register memory, speeding down the roads- Safely, of course.

I needed to see this for myself. The end of everything.

When I finally did, I was alone.

I parked my bike, leaned against it on the sidewalk, watching as movers carried furniture into the house, a young teenaged girl leaning against a window outside, her cellphone out and texting furiously. Her mother shouted for her to help out. I watched her groan and drag her feet into the house, shouting back "What mom?"

I listen in, the argument exploding with moments that only occur when an exasperated teenager meets a parent, desperate to have everyone excited about their fresh start. Do they know the history of that house? Will they ever find my ghost?

The next-door neighbour walked out, watering her garden. I always liked Mrs Cardinal, she liked to bring biscuits over and share them. She almost dropped her watering can as she spotted me. She is older than I remember, but understandably so.

"My word." She said, in an almost-whisper. I waved at her.

"How are you? I was just passing through."

"My, my, small one. You've grown up." She beamed at me, arms outstretched, reaching for a hug. I patted her back. "I'm doing well. How are you?"

She doesn't know, I thought. How could she have known?

"I'm okay. I see someone's moving in."

"The house was empty until recently, actually. Americans. They don't know that house. I know the neighbourhood troublemakers have been spreading nasty rumours about that house. But you are alive, aren't you?" She patted my hand, smiling her near-toothless smile.

"It shouldn't be haunted." I said. I refrained from adding in the last tidbit, that Ivan wouldn't be occupying that house, either. There are no ghosts here, just me.

"Why not come in for some tea? I've made biscuits." She smiled, gesturing me to follow her. But I cannot. I'm not ready for that. I shake my head and smile my best guilty smile.

"No, it's fine, Ma'am."

"Oh, no, but I insist."

She motioned me to stay where I was, hobbling back into the house with a surprising amount of speed.

This neighbourhood, by far, is not beautiful. It is not surburbia in all of it's glory, front lawns were small and so were backyards. But Mrs Cardinal made do. She built herself the smallest garden she could- Purples and greens and pinks abound. I don't know any of the flowers. But they were beautiful.

And so, quickly as she left, she returned from her quick trip back into her humble abode, carrying a bag seemingly folded and tied from a clean dishcloth. Smiling, she pushed it into my hands.

"Take some biscuits. For you and your family."

"Oh, I couldn't, please-"

"Hush, now, child. Let an old lady fawn." She said, her eyes crinkled up into a knowing squint to pair up with her ever-present smile. I laughed, and put the bag into my motorcycle box.

"Thank you."

"You are very welcome, dear."

"Is the general store still here?"

"Yes." She nodded, pointing down the street. "Come back anytime you want. I will always have a fresh batch of biscuits for you. You need to eat more, you're so skinny."

And so I promised. I put my riding helmet on and waved at Mrs Cardinal, leaving her to watch as I rode on forward.

I'm not looking for anything in particular. The general store is but a part of my past I want to revisit. Between moments of tragedy, there was always the walk. Trekking between houses, counting cracks in the sidewalk. The linoleum aisles with poorly disguised dirty magazines.

Five years later, and someone from my high school still worked there. He greeted me with a sideways glance.

"Dean." I said, looking at him with as much conviction as I could muster. "Good to see you."

He shot to attention.

"Akiko?" He sounded incredulous, as if my presence offended him. But his cheeks were twitching, burning to break into a grin. "I didn't know you were back."

"I didn't know I would be coming back, either. But I'm not staying."

I walked to the refrigerator, pulling out a 6-pack of rum. Dean kept staring.

High school was made unbearable by proxy of distance. It was always someone else's fault. Dean is only a monument to something else far bigger than him, far more than he ever was.

"I'm wondering why I'm surprised." He said suddenly. I looked over at him. "I didn't think of you as someone who would drink."

"You didn't think anything of me, Dean."

"That's not true. I just thought you were super straight-laced. You were really quiet. But it's always the quiet kids, right?"

"I'm bi, Dean." I said. I don't really know why I said it, but it's how I am. "Maybe that's where my silence went, into the closet."

He seemed to have a vacant stare about him as he bagged my purchases.

"We could've had something, you know," He said, almost whispering. "I didn't know. When we found out, you were gone."

"We couldn't have." I picked up the plastic bag. "Or at least, we can't now. I have someone waiting."

He shook his head. I waved.

"Come again."

I walked out, breathing in the warm summer air and got on my bike again. I rode out until I could no longer see the little neighbourhood and I set my sights on home.

And I screeched into a halt in front of the record shop where Jay was waiting for me, hands tucked into her jeans, looking uncharacteristic in the store's uniform. She smiled and waved, throwing her jacket on and climbing on. She squeezed me tightly.

"Hey there stranger, fancy meeting you here." She cooed. I rolled my eyes.

"Put your helmet on."

"Spoilsport."

I laughed and rode off, towards our home. The apartment where Joakim and Jennifer had always waited for us, arms open, was small but there was enough room for slow dancing to songs that were not meant for slow dancing, and the stovetop was good enough for pancakes at midnight, our bed was just warm enough for the two of us.

Here, in this space.

Here, I find that my curse, all of the past that had torn me silent, would no longer be.

Here, this mismatched family.

We were enough.

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