by Nunn, Alexis
He was wearing just a large t-shirt and dark, cargo pants. His hair grew long enough to hide his ears and graze his eyebrows, but didn’t go farther than that. The back of his hair was curling out at the beginning of his neck. He was smiling at me.
“Isn’t that so neat?” He asked me, his green eyes a hollow imprint in my memory. The rest of my memory was a greyscale splash of shadows, except for those three things: his eyes, the dress, and the yellow stripe down the road. I couldn’t tell why, but those three things stood out. It was more than what I saw in dreams, so I knew that this was a memory.
“Isn’t that so neat, honey? It’s almost horizontal.”
I was just smiling back at him, “Yeah, yeah,” then giggled.
As the rain clouds moved down their path, the rain started to straighten out, becoming more vertical before our very eyes.
He kissed my cheek before stepping carefully out from under our shelter, letting the rain come down onto us. I held my little, toddler fists out into the sky, trying to catch the raindrops as they hurdled down from the atmosphere. We both stared up into the sky, watching for the first warning sign to head inside, but it never happened, so we stayed out there in the pouring rain. It was warm, August rain that left trails on my cheeks. The drops bounced on my head and left our hair heavy from the water, but we weren’t taking the time to care.
“I like it,” I told him, “I like it a lot.”
He smiled, hugging me into him, “Me too. Here, we’ll come out every time it rains, I promise.”
Feliks was watching us talk, half distracted by a water puddle by his feet that he kept swishing around with his toes. When a rumble of thunder echoed out into the air, but no lightning in the sky, I jumped a little. At the sound of thunder, I whined, burying my face into his shirt, still watching the water bounce on the road.
He rocked me, “You are okay. You’ll be okay. Thunder isn’t going to hurt you. I wouldn’t let it.”
I breathed with relief and clutched the cloth of his shirt; I smiled.
He had promised he’d watch the rain with me and protect me. He was going to keep that promise until his death. Too bad that came only a bit down the road of time.
The next time I saw us both soaking wet with warm water was when my lungs were burning with a tearing heat and I saw him with eyes closed, mouth open with escaping life, while his hair drifted around in the darkness. I saw him and I saw myself pulling on his arm while I felt something pulling me away, too. The vision of him was obscured by the red that began clouding the water. I felt something harsh meet with the back of my head while I was being pulled out, so everything I saw went away with my consciousness. That was the last I ever saw Ulf Fredrik Johan Svensson alive.
The rain was telling me my father was a beautiful soul by bringing me back something I had lost. The rain was speaking through touch, telling me it was okay to remember now. I felt that warmth of August rain on my cheeks again and yet I felt that burning in my chest and throat. I wasn’t drowning; I was crying, but the rain washed it away with its kisses.
Out in the rain, arms out with myself facing the caring sky, I was home. I was home. I was okay. I kept repeating that to myself until I spoke aloud.
“I’m home. I’m okay,” I told myself, letting the water get into my eyes.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The shock of my sudden memory hadn’t settled by the end of the rain. I was doubting that would go away for a while. Reasonably, of course, I’d be surprised or unsettled by the new access to those early chapters of my life.
Behind me, Feliks jumped up on the couch like usual. I had just made us something to eat, one pork chop each. I still stood at the counter, cutting the fat off from around my pork chop. After I separated that from the meat, I set it off to the side. Neither of us would eat it. I cut the meat into about three chunks and started to eat one, nervously tapping the end of my fork on the counter. Out of nowhere, over my thoughts, I could still see the image of my father drowning. The longer I let it, the more details came into my mind.
I scrunched up my face, trying to disengage the pressure in my chest, then whining from the rush of an exhale.
Feliks noticed the noise, swallowing down his dinner. He got down and prepared to go to my side, “Darylene? Are you o-.”
“I’m getting sick of it! The memories! I can’t take it! Each time it feels like I’m in the car again, feeling the car whip to the side, seatbelt crushing my chest. I feel it and I see everything. It’s getting worse!”
He raised a paw, lowering his head, “What are you talking about? Darylene, are you okay!”
“No! And you know exactly what I’m talking about!”
My brother’s eyes flitted around, going lower to the ground as if he was a dog in trouble. I could tell he was sensing a rising panic but he didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t something he was prepared for.
He breathed shallowly, nervously jumping up on his front paws, “You shouldn’t- I didn’t think you’d... Why do you remember any of that? The doctors said that was permanent. Should we go to a doctor? I don’t know how we would… Nearest would be so, so far away. I don’t know. What happened?”
There were several ways to tell him, ranging from most confusing to most casual, but I choose to phrase it the most fitting, the way I believed.
“The rain gave me my memories back.”
He was skeptical, nearing me slowly, worming between me and the counter and easing me into the living room with him. I entertained him, leading the way and going to the couch.
“The rain?”
“The rain,” I shrugged, “I was standing out in the rain, you know, this morning. I was so happy, it felt so light and fun. When I put my hands out into the sky above me, I got this weird electric feeling. Then my body felt shaky and I saw, not like it was a memory, it was as if I was seeing it again. Like a vision, a movie. That’s how vivid it was. It couldn’t have been a dream because I saw color. Not everything was in color, but there was color, so I knew it was real. It was raining in my memory. Ulf was holding me in my arms under our carport. You were there, out on the other end, sticking your feet out in the rain. He was rocking me, then he held me out in the rain, letting us both get wet. I was holding my hands up in the air just like I was doing this morning. It was a great memory, really, but it didn’t stay that way. Next thing I saw was this scene where I was in the cab of a car, rain pelting down on our windshield. No middle ground, there was a time jump and everything was filled with water. I was drowning and I saw our dad unconscious. I saw him with his eyes closed, mouth open and everything, bubbles escaping. And his chest jerking with instinct to breathe. There were about three people there and most were pulling me out of the car. One was pulling on me and there was one breaking the window. I just saw the shadow of someone one the other side, driver side, but they broke that window after I was out. I had enough air. I could last. I could’ve escaped myself, but they spent all their time on me. When they pulled me out, I got flipped around. Glass went into my skin, tearing my stomach open and getting loose, stuck inside. That’s their fault. Whoever pulled me out hit my head against the doorframe awfully hard. Thinking about the whole thing makes me feel horrible. I feel so sick. Besides that, our dad died because people spent all their time on me instead, even though I was the least in danger. He was the unconscious one!”
The longer I talked, the more my hands were shaking. I kept them folded, up over my mouth. I knew I was close to crying. After thirteen years, now I could truly mourn. I regulated my emotions this time, calming down sufficiently. Part of me didn’t feel like I had the right to mourn.
Feliks was open-mouthed, staring in a clueless amazement, “What? Lene, they had to! You were bleeding to death.”
“Oh, no, not at first. But, that day! I remember that now. And it won’t stop! I keep seeing it replay. Ever since I could, I have. It’s like a record with a scratch, keeps jumping back a few lines. You can fix it but later down the scratch, the same thing starts
up again. I mean, don’t think I meant that as it was my fault he died, but he died because the rescuers were so damn stupid!” I complained openly, stomping my foot onto the floor, making the couch shake.
Feliks sat down in front of me, laying his head down on my knees. I put my hand down on top of his head.
“It’s just scaring me.”
Feliks waited, closing his eyes and thumping his tail sadly, “I remember that day. Not as clear as you do.”
“The rain? Or the crash?”
“Both.”
I was confused then, “Both?”
“The first one, the rainy day where we were outside, I remember that vaguely. But I remember I was jealous of you. You got to hang out with Dad. I guess we both did, but he favored you. You were the baby. I was jealous you got to be held. I was just enough to be too big. You were almost too big. Dad wasn’t a strong guy, he could barely pick either of us up for too long. You were the lightest. That didn’t change the way I felt. I kept my distance as my way of being angry.”
“I didn’t know any of that.”
He thumped his tail again, “Why would you? You couldn’t have.”
We paused, Feliks’s jaw vibrated slightly. He looked highly hesitant about the next part. Without any more thoughts let him postpone himself, he went on, “As for the crash. There’s a lot you don’t know. It doesn’t surprise me our Dad wasn’t saved right away.”
“Why?”
More nervous, not sure whether he should say it, Feliks opened his mouth and closed it. He didn’t want to say something that might’ve been wrong. He didn’t want to influence me with his personal opinion, especially since I didn’t know any other side. Yet, he had to say something now.
He looked away from me, “There were a lot of suspicious circumstances around the crash. The police report said that… that you guys got hit from the front, driving you off the road, but your car only had an indentation running from the back bumper to the back door, as if you got ran off instead. You guys were more than an hour away from town and somehow the wreck was ‘compromised’ on the route home to make it ‘unreliable in court’ which doesn’t sound reliable by itself. The worst part was… Mother and Dad were fighting. I remember that very clearly. Mother was in this blind hatred towards our father because of his pay cut and he was trying to spend it towards us instead of her debt. That wasn’t the end of it, Ulf filed for divorce. And he was going to be favored by the court, no doubt about it. He wanted custody. He was going to get it too. Mother didn’t have the best image and she was unemployed. Dad had no criminal history plus a well-paying job. This part, I don’t remember, but I know Dad took you to go somewhere. And during a rainstorm that he drove into, a car runs him off into the pond and only you get saved. And people were just hanging around, as if waiting. They were just waiting… And then, even with all those strange ‘coincidences,’ no one questioned Mother. I don’t know where they got money to pay for your hospital bills either.”
He looked down, trying not to look at me. I knew just what he thought, too. I got the point he was trying not to mention.
Dad got murdered, and it seemed like it was on Mother’s side where the fault came in. Of course, this could’ve been one hell of a coincidence, but that’s not a common thing when all stars align. Why wasn’t Mother convicted? That may have been something we’d never know. I never heard of any of this. It was purposely kept a secret from me. No wonder I couldn’t stand her, she probably killed our father!
“You’ve never been able to talk to someone about that, have you?”
He was breathing in quickly, eyes slit. After every breath, he blew out the air, flapping his lips. He sniffled, whining with it. He was crying. He told me yes, and set his head back down, letting me try to comfort him for a change. When I finally understood that he was letting himself break down and cry (in a way I was unused to), I cried too.
TWENTY-NINE
The day was late when both of us were stable enough to go on. My pork chop was now cold, sadly enough, but I ate it. I felt tired but, I knew I should at least see my friends once today. I ended up secluding myself today. Lilya hadn’t come over today, neither had Fadiyah. I should see what they were up to. It was only around seven in the evening.
My brother grumbled, scratching at the floor with his paw, “I’m going to go lay down for a bit.”
Then he schlepped to his bedroom, leaving me alone. He didn’t typically behave like that, telling me his confession over what we believed took a lot out of him, especially if he had to go lay down. So, I let him be.
I closed his door just enough to block out the light of the kitchen from down the hall, before slipping out the front door. I put on my boots that were waiting for me out on the step, since they were covered with mud I was yet to wash off. I didn’t lace them; I would take them off not more than thirty seconds later. I wasn’t going to wear muddy boots in their house.
My Doc boots were only a toes length too large but just enough so that they slipped around while I walked. This is why I laced them so tightly. One size down was too small, constricting my naturally wide feet and size tens were just small enough to be reasonable. The extra space was only an issue when unlaced. That shouldn’t be a problem. Who wore $200 boots with them unlaced and liable to fall off or flop around and get damaged? No one smart. I kept my boots laced and ready to take off running. When you live with the threat of an animal breaking through the forest and running at you with intent to kill, you need to be ready to run twice that speed.
I headed to Fadiyah’s house.
The state the Sterns and Schockes were at was the level where you could just walk in and sleep on their couch. I did almost just that, instead of sleeping on the couch, I wondered straight into the hall and opened Fadiyah’s door. If she wanted privacy, she would lock it. The method was usually safe.
When I got to her door, I saw it was closed, but that hadn’t got me necessarily off guard. I opened it to a dark room, so I first thought of leaving, as I assumed she was asleep. Before that, I caught a glimpse of her at her small, carved desk, hunched over. There was only a small desk lamp on, illuminating over what she was looking at.
There was a fleeting feeling that I should back out and leave, but I rarely listen to the senses that make sense. I stepped inside.
She was holding something framed in her hands. My best friend knew I was there, no surprise.
“Turn on the light for me, please?” She kindly requested.
I did as asked and flipped on the light switch that was to my right. Now, Fadiyah's room was different from mine. Where mine was a rectangle, hers was an L-shaped room. A bed at the end foot of the L and a desk against the wall that lead into the small hall to the door. As you entered, there was a small room to the right of you that spanned to the end of the bedroom. It was a small but big enough to get in walk in closet. The door was at the corner once you turned to her bed. My room was a four cornered classic, small closet off the room with a bed, dresser, and desk. I used to have the desk at the foot of my bed but long ago moved it perpendicular to my headboard for easier access to the dresser. My door was in the center of the wall across from my bed. Her room had just a desk, bed, small bookcase, nightstand, and various high shelves above the desk and bed.
She was sitting at her desk alone. I watched her turn off her lamp and cast me a look over her shoulder, “Did you need something?”
“Just came to see what you were up to.”
Fadiyah shrugged, “I was just looking at photos.”
“Photos?”
She nodded. She pushed a stack of Polaroids farther back on her desk and set a framed photo back to the side. I had never seen the frame before, maybe I had never paid attention to it before.
In the frame, there was a photo of a young couple happily holding up a small bundle in their arms, mostly the mother’s. The woman was a beautiful woman, dark eyes, dark hair, and medium skin with a long brown hijab covering the shoulders and front of a loose white dress. The
man was like a puzzle piece to her, almost exactly the same except he had a small, dark brown beard. They looked like a perfect, joyous couple. Importantly, they looked remarkably like the treasure that was my friend. The baby the couple was presenting was her. She wasn’t the most flattering as a baby with her round, chubby cheeks with scrunched up tired eyes. She was yawning, little pink tongue sticking out, leading to the delightfully amused reaction on her parents’ faces. I couldn’t tell if the photo was professional or not, but telling by the genuine affection, I felt there was no way the photo was not during a whim on the photographer’s part.
“That’s the only photo I have of them. They didn’t like having their photo taken. It was taken by a friend when they moved here. It was a nice photo, so they kept it,” Fadiyah told me when she saw me examining the photo, “I usually don’t get it out either.”
I didn’t know what to say. Thankfully, she went on with something else.
“Lee, may I ask you a question?” The question was very soft, almost like she was on the edge about asking.
“You can ask me anything.”
Fadiyah steadied, pushing everything in front of her forward. She picked up a small, bound book I had not previously seen. She stared intently into the cover, sighing, “Am I a bad person?”
That took me by surprise, “No! Not at all. Why would you be?”
“Because I denied myself. I betrayed my family, my faith. I turned away from all of that,” She set down the book.
“You were little, Fadiyah. You couldn’t have known what was best for you… You can’t blame yourself for that,” I really didn’t know what to say now. This was not something I was certified to get into. I had no idea what was what. I had to try to be there the best I could, “You are not a bad person.”
“But that makes me a bad person! A nonbeliever. I am a disgrace to my parents’ memory. They should’ve raised me better than to turn away. When it happened, the murder,” She flinched, shaking her head, “that should’ve made me struggle to find faith. I was weak. I looked at struggle and fled.”