flashback

t w e n t y - t w o

 

Ceon

Fletcher was sitting on a bunch of boxes outside our house when me and Sarai finally got to him and Matt. He looked up at me from cleaning under his nails with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s about time,” he said, standing up from the boxes and stretching his legs.

“Why aren’t you inside?” I didn’t even wait for him to answer, and when I looked for myself, I had to hold onto the gate to steady myself. The world around me was swirling, and my stomach made such a swoop that I thought I would hurl.

The door to Joe’s deli was boarded shut.

Sarai

Ceon didn’t get up for a really long time. I kinda thought he was dead, and I got scared, but he was only crying. I sat next to him and patted his head. Matt was sleeping.

“Ceon,” Fletch was being really impatient. “Get up, man.”

Ceon wouldn’t get up.

“Please, Ceon,” I finally whispered to him. “Please get up, Ceon…” Then Fletcher whispered in his ear. “Remember Mom now,” he said.

Finally he got up and wiped his eyes.

“C’mon,” he said.

“Where?” Matt asked, finally up. Ceon didn’t answer, and I knew he didn’t know. I stared at him, until finally he said, “To Danyelle.”

Fletcher grinned.

Danyelle

Dad was the same as I had remembered. His nostrils anyway. His gray eyes were tired, though. And he had wrinkles where he hadn’t last, around his eyes and mouth—smiling lines. But he was happy. I wasn’t sure how to act around him. He had been out of my life for so long, and he had actually only returned because Mom called him saying she didn’t know where I was.

I didn’t know how I felt about that.

“Danyelle,” it was the first thing he said to me. I didn’t say anything, I just looked up at him from my knees like a drip.

“Get up, Danyelle,” Mom said, her voice void of even a speck of sympathy.

Dad opened his arms, and I hesitated before going into them. Finally I did, and I smelled his smell, and felt safe, but scared at the same time.

“Why did you come?” I asked him.

“Why do you think?” my mother snapped, rubbing her fingers against her temple before eventually snatching me from my dad for a hug. I hugged her back tightly, and I didn’t want to let go. Tears dripped from my eyes and unto her sweater. All the guilt I had held flooded into the hug, and I felt her fear; she didn’t want to let go of me.

“I came as soon as I heard you were gone,” Dad said when I let go of mom. I sat beside him on the couch.

“Where’d you go, Danyelle?”

Mom asked before I could respond to Dad.

I chose my words thoughtfully before answering.

“I did the right thing.”

Dad’s nostrils flared. “No beating around the bush, Danyelle.”

“I went to Sheathing.”

“Whatever for?” Mom asked, clenching her hands together so tightly until her knuckles were almost white.

“I went to help my friends,” I said, my voice trembling. Another tear dripped off the bridge of my nose.

“Who?” Dad asked, his voice gruff.

“They live,” I said, my voice shaking entirely now. “They live in Joe’s deli.”

Both of my parents were silent. Finally, Dad, standing and putting his arm behind his head, shook it vigorously.

“Impossible.” He said.

“No, Dad!” I almost yelled, standing with a start to look him in the eye. The blood rushed to my head for a second, and I staggered about for a bit before speaking again. Mom took my arm and stood too.

“It is true,” I said. “There are four of them, and the orphanage wanted to split them up, but they didn’t want that, so they ran off and Joe kept their secret…But then one day I met Fletcher—he’s the 2nd oldest, he’s 11. And he became my friend, and I thought I was doing the right thing by sending him off to Sheathing, but I was wrong. So me and Ceon—he’s 16, today’s his birthday, he’s the oldest too—went to get him back. And we met Teddy, but Teddy’s not with us…He ran off. And we came back…” I trailed off.

Dad ran a hand over his mouth.

“Good God,” he said. “Jesus H. Christ,” he said.

My mother frowned at him, but he repeated it.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he said again.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Danyelle?” Mom was more hurt than angry.

“Your work.” I said bitterly. “You’re never here, you never talk to me anymore, spend time with me, it’s always your clients, haven’t you thought maybe I get lonely? Maybe I need to talk to you; Maybe I don’t want pizza for dinner?”

Mom didn’t answer. Then the doorbell rang, and Dad went to open it.

He came back with a strange look on his face.

“Sydney, you might want to see this.” He said in a strangled voice.

“Stay here,” Mom said. “But I followed her anyway.

There stood Ceon, though, on my doorstep. I pushed past my parents and hugged him. Then I frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“They boarded it up…” he said, his voice hoarse.

My heartbeat sped up, and I felt strange. My vision blurred, and I started to say something, but my words came out all mangled, and I grabbed my Dad’s shirt, trying to hold on, but my fingers wouldn’t tighten so I grabbed the nearest thing, and it was a vase, and it fell to the floor with a deafening crash that rang in my ears even after everything went black.