And this is what I have to show for it.
There is a heavy snow falling, but the flakes are fluffy and light, and powder the ground in a soft, white blanket. Leafless trees line my path, dark against the elements. They usher me forward, barring the tendency to veer off course. I tear my gaze from them and look ahead. Down a long, snow-carpeted path is an enormous tree stump, the top perfectly level and flat. Upon it, sits a man.
As I approach, I see he is sitting cross-legged. His eyes are closed and his hands are on his knees. Short brown hair, the same color as mine, covers his head. He is broad shouldered and, though he is seated, it is apparent that he is tall – taller than me, that is – maybe close to six feet. Disregarding the winter environment, he wears a tee shirt with a tie-dye design, jeans, and no shoes. There is no snow on his person.
Guilt nags at me as the snow crunches under my feet; he looks so peaceful, I am loathe disturb him. I make little sound as I draw nearer, yet while I am still a distance away, he opens his eyes and sees me. No surprise mars his features, and the calm in his eyes almost radiates outward. He says nothing as I move within speaking distance, finally settling down on my knees before him. I sit back on my heels, rest my hands in my lap, and look up at him silently.
After a moment, he says, “Hey, kid.”
I blink. “Hi.”
He rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” I shrug.
“You always say that. I don’t think you’re telling me the truth.”
Glancing away, I pretend to be very interested in the laces of my boots. There is a long pause. “It’s been a year.”
“Yeah.”
Another silence. Finally, I manage to bring my eyes back to his, noting how his remained a significantly lighter shade than my own. “I miss you.” My voice breaks and I feel myself tearing up. I look down again.
“I miss you, too, kid. But you shouldn’t focus on the past.”
Like a stubborn child, I whine, “I
want to focus on the past. I want to remember!”
He reaches down and lifts my chin. “It’s okay to remember. Just don’t let it ruin your present.”
Suddenly angry, I jump to my feet. “It’s not fair! It’s not fair that, after all those years, I finally find you, I finally have a
brother again, and then you’re gone! And there’s no one to be mad at! I can’t be mad at you, I can’t be mad at the EMTs, I can’t be mad at your family or friends or step dad, I—” The next word comes out as a sob, and I collapse into his outstretched arms, hugging him with all my strength, as if to let go would be to lose him all over again.
“Shh, hey, calm down, kiddo. Breathe.” He strokes my hair as I sob helplessly into his shoulder. “I’m always with you, you know.”
Trembling, I shake my head. I open my mouth to speak, but only a tiny squeak emerges, so I close it, take a deep breath, and try again. “There isn’t even a
grave, Matt,” I manage to force out in a raspy, tear-choked voice.
“I know. Cremation is more affordable; you know Art and Diane don’t have a lot of money.”
“I know, I know, but it’s just… I just want to have somewhere to go. I want to visit you.”
“You’re visiting me now.”
“It’s not the same.”
“You never did lose that stubbornness did you?” There’s a note of playful mockery in his tone. He sighs. “I remember when we used to play X-Men with Bruce in the backyard. I was Gambit, he was Cyclops, and you always wanted to be Storm. We used spend hours trying to talk you into Rogue, because you look more like her. I once even went over all the differences in Storm and Rogue’s powers to try and talk the sense of it into you. And still, every single time, you ultimately played as Storm.”
I smile against his chest, my cheeks wet and eyes puffy. “I remember.”
“Remember when we would spend hours in your room, playing Darius Twin and Ninja Turtles on Super Nintendo?”
I nod, wiping my nose on the back of my hand, and sit back on the stump beside him. “Do you remember that huge snowstorm, when school was cancelled and the snow was so high that we couldn’t open the outside doors?”
He grins. “And Bruce, Tessa, and I came through the basement to get you.”
“And then we played Omega Virus a hundred times?”
“That was a great game.” He smiles again, a little sadly. “Man, I remember how good your mom’s swedish meatballs were.
“You loved those.”
“I used to eat a dozen every time.”
“How about those little cherry cheesecake cups?”
“Those were amazing. And her kielbasa? Mmm.”
We stop talking, both drifting into our own reminiscent thoughts. Our shoulders press together and I close my eyes, savoring his warmth, his solidity. When I open them, he is looking at me.
“What?”
“I really love you, sis. Don’t ever forget that. Just because we didn’t see each other for a few years doesn’t mean that ever did, or ever will change. You’re doing really well for yourself: your own apartment, a boyfriend that takes good care of you, a cat, a car, two jobs… You’re where I was hoping to be after I finished school.”
My lower lip quivers. “I want you to have that. I wish you were there with me.” My vision clouds over and I, again, find myself in the safe circle of his arms. “I wish you got to finish school, I wish you got a good job, I wish you got the chance to get a new apartment... did you know, right before you died, I was planning to ask you if you wanted to get a place together? Cut down on the rent, see you every day, hang out on weekends—” This time, my sentence is cut of by violent, body-wracking sobs, and my brother’s arms tighten around me protectively. He begins to rock and, after a time, I quiet down, sniffling softly into his neck.
“Hey kid. I gotta get going.”
I sit up, not meeting his gaze. “I know.”
He touches my cheek, one corner of his mouth curling in a smirk. “Same time next year?” he asks, a sadness shining through the joking lift of his voice.
Again, I nod, unable to speak. We embrace tightly, and he presses his lips to my forehead, mumbling, “I love you,” into my skin.
“Forever and ever,” I agree, crying again.
And just like that, he is gone. Alone, I stand up, brush the snow off my pants, and head back the way I came.
