The Risks

March: Chapter 47

Stepping through the front door was like walking into some strange museum of the life I'd once lived. Everything was exactly how we'd left it; under a thick layer of dust, but untouched. I hesitated a little too long in the entrance alone, my eyes lingering on Oakley's purple winter coat that still hung by the door. I reached out tentatively to run my fingers along the sleeve, remembering that the last time I'd seen her actually wearing it was the day things went to shit.

"I don't wanna stay here. I'm scared." Tears in her round, light brown eyes.

"I know." The feeling of her little arms around me. The smell of her hair as I kissed the side of her head. "Everything's going to be fine. I promise."

"You doing okay?" Parker asked gently from beside me.

"Do you want the tour?"

His eyes were hesitant, like I was testing him and he was trying to figure out the right answer. "Sure. If you want."

We started downstairs and I walked him through the living room, dining room, kitchen while memories played out in front of me like holograms. Or maybe it was like seeing ghosts, I couldn't be sure. Either way, it felt like she was there, right in front of me, drawing at the kitchen island, playing checkers at the dining room table, cuddled on the couch watching a movie. And I shared all of it with Parker, my voice soft and distant. I'd been right. The good memories did feel bad, a stark reminder of all the things I'd lost. But not bad like I didn't want to remember them, just bad like it hurt to remember.

Yeah, it fucking hurt, but maybe that was my fault. I'd never really allowed myself to move on. Maybe I needed to do something about that.

I skipped George's study for the time being, leading Parker upstairs instead. Spare bedroom, George's room, hesitating in Oakley's room. She'd managed to move all the things she cared about most into my room, but there was still plenty here to take in. Toys, clothes, art supplies. I couldn't push away the overwhelming knowledge that the last person in this room had been her –the last pair of hands to touch these things had been hers.

As we were leaving the room, I hesitated. Parker noticed and he took my face in his hand, his thumb trailing delicately along my cheekbone.

It's okay, his eyes said.

And so I nodded, took one last look into Oakley's room, and then shut the door.

"Wow," Parker mouthed when we stepped into my old bedroom, and then walked further in and pointed to a My Chemical Romance poster on the wall. "I knew it."

I chuckled, shrugging, and moved over to my dresser, my eyes scanning over the pictures there as I fanned them out with my fingers.

"Parker," I whispered –he was standing by my bookshelf, looking at my different CDs- and gestured him to join me. When he reached me, I showed him the picture in my hand. "This is my mom and dad."

It was an old photo, I'd been maybe seven at the time, and it was the only one I'd ever had of the three of us. It wasn't taken anywhere special –no super memorable family trip- just at the local park; painfully posed and taken by my grandma. But it was all that was left, and I tried to memorize every detail, appalled as I realized that I'd had a hard time picturing the details of their faces in my mind before seeing this photo.

"You look like her," he said softly. "Your mom."

I grinned. "Yeah. I used to get that all the time."

We went through more of them- some of me and Hallie, more of my mom, lots of Oakley.

"We should bring these back with us," Parker suggested a little timidly after we'd looked at each one. "So we can show them to our kids when they're older. I'm sure they'll want to know what their grandparents and aunt looked like."