The Homecoming

by Stacie Ramey

  Mom coughs but eats.

  I sit there with my family, sad because I’m about to walk away from something I said I didn’t want. My parents are here, and they’re together. And they’re talking about me. Me. As if I matter. And that alone feels so good that it’s almost unreal. I tell my mind to sit this one out and just listen with my heart. I don’t worry about anything or anyone. I just exist. Like that constellation in the sky looking down at everyone on earth who is too small and insignificant to be relevant, except they are the most relevant thing in the world. And they know it. I know it. Livy smiles at me, and I’m healed and slayed at the same time, because by this time tomorrow, I’ll break her heart like Leah broke mine.

  • • •

  I wait until all the lights are out. Then I wait a half hour more. I’m all packed. The important stuff anyway. My pictures. My stuff. The weed I picked up from Pete. The rest of that Jack Daniel’s Emily had. It’s all in my lacrosse bag. My lacrosse stuff is stacked neatly in my closet. Mom can probably sell it on eBay. I could go out the front door. Mom’s loaded up on cough medicine, I’m sure, and no way Ryan gets up and sees me, but I’m not taking that chance. 12:00 a.m. Leah used to call that the witching hour. I open my window as quietly as I can. I lean out and lower my bag with a rope, dropping it lightly on the ground. Then I climb out onto the tree outside my window. The tree Ryan used to always tell me was a ghost ready to come get me. I get it now. Brothers do stuff like that. It doesn’t mean anything. I lower myself, branch by branch, until my feet hit the ground.

  I am so stealthy, so quiet, that when I make it to my car, I don’t even use the key fob to open the doors, knowing that’ll make a sound. Key in the lock, I turn it, so quiet, throw my crap in the backseat. Start the Jeep, keeping the lights off. I’m about to pull out when there’s a knock on my window that makes me jump out of my skin.

  A light shines in on me, and I’m terrified it’s the police or, just as bad, Mike Wexler, but it’s Emily. I put my hand over my heart. “Holy crap, you scared the shit out of me.”

  “Good. Let me in. We need to talk.”

  I nod. Wait for her to climb in the passenger seat before pulling out, driving, slow, lights out, until we turn the corner and head for the park. Our park.

  I barely get the car parked when she starts on me. “You think I don’t know the signs of someone who’s about to run?”

  “I…”

  She hits my arm. “It’s so selfish. You have no idea…”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “There’s always a choice.”

  “Prison? You think that’s a great choice?”

  Her face goes white. “Why?”

  “I used three weeks ago. You know this. I have to go in and give a sample now because of the accident.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “Ryan wasn’t in his car seat, so DCF was called. Now the whole family is under a microscope. It’s not going to help anyone if I fail the drug test and get violated and go to prison.”

  “How is it going to help your family if you run away?”

  “DCF always want a scapegoat. I’ll be that.”

  “It won’t help. Stay. Tell them she always belted him in. He must have gotten out. If you leave, no one will be left to stand up for her.” Tears are running down her face now. “I know it’s a risk. I know you don’t want to go to jail, but it’s almost four weeks. You’ll pass.”

  “What if I don’t?”

  “I don’t know. But if you leave, you’ll definitely violate the court order, and you’ll never be able to come back. Never.” She starts to cry harder. “And when you leave, it kills everyone else. You have no idea what it feels like to be left behind. What you’ll be doing to Livy.”

  I grab her face. “Sh. OK. You’re right.”

  “And me. What about what it’ll do to me if you leave?”

  “You can be with Marty. He’s better for you than I am.”

  She punches me in the arm. Again and again. “I get to decide that, or don’t I?”

  I start to laugh. “I give. Ow. Stop. I said I give.” She’s sobbing now, full out. I pull her into my chest. “I’m not going, OK? You’re right. I thought it would be better for everyone if I did, but you’re right.”

  “It would only be better for you if you did.”

  “There are things you don’t know about me, Emily. Things that would change your mind about me.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  I look at my hands. “What if I told you that it’s my fault. All of this?”

  “It can’t be your fault.”

  “What if it is? What if my Mom has the right to hate me?”

  “She doesn’t hate you. Tell me. And I’ll be objective, and if it is your fault, I promise you, I’ll kiss you good-bye and send you on your way.”

  “So you want me to tell you?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  The memories are lined up in my mind, pushing their way to the front. The accident that changed our lives shouldn’t have even happened. It was stupid dumb luck. The worst kind. I’m sure everybody believes their version of the truth is the right one. The real one. I believe that the most important truth is that Ryan started it, but I finished it.

  “It happened the summer I turned seven. Ryan was nine, and Livy was just a baby. It was supposed to be a great day. We were at the breakfast table. Ryan was eating Froot Loops. I was eating Frosted Flakes.” I laugh. “It’s funny the little things you remember.”

  “Yeah.” Emily unzips my lacrosse bag, takes out the Jack Daniel’s, offers it to me.

  I wave her off. I don’t want to stop talking, because I’m scared if I do, I won’t be able to finish this. “Livy was in her high chair, and Mom was at the sink. The coffeemaker had just stopped percolating. I remember the sound that last drip being brewed made, because once it was gone, there was another sound: Mom crying.”

  I stop for a second. My mom crying used to be the worst sound I’d ever heard. It made me feel completely hopeless.

  “Why was your mom crying?” Emily asks.

  “She and Dad had been fighting all summer. About work mostly. And watching us. Dad came into the kitchen.”

  I was just about to ask him what was wrong with Mom when I saw he was wearing work clothes. Work clothes were wrong.

  “We were supposed to be going to the museum of science to see the exhibition on Eskimos. Dad was supposed to have us out of the house all day so Mom could work on an article. And we were going to see real igloos.”

  Emily nods. She takes a drink of Jack, then points to me.

  “Ryan and I were obsessed with them.”

  “I get that. Igloos are cool.”

  I can hear them arguing.

  “Come on, Lydia,” Dad said. “What did you want me to do? It’s not like I had a choice.”

  Mom slammed some dishes into the dishwasher. “You could tell them you had plans with your family. With your sons. You could say no for a change. Which you have no problem saying to us. Just not to them.”

  Dad’s eyes fell on us. “I’m sorry, guys. I have to go into work today. You understand, right?”

  I nodded, but Ryan gave me an angry look.

  “I’ll take you next weekend.”

  “The exhibit is only here till Tuesday,” Ryan said.

  “Maybe Mom can take you?”

  “Great. Promise something I can’t possibly do. I’ve got a deadline tomorrow. A hard deadline.”

  “You could ask for more time.”

  “That’s real professional.”

  Emily’s hand falls on my arm. “You OK?”

  I had no idea I just stopped talking. After keeping it all locked up inside for so long, I’m stunned how close the memories are still. How it feels as if I’m really there.

  �
��Yeah. I”—I press the heel of my hand into my eye—“uh…they were going back and forth. Fighting over who would watch us. Who would take us to the museum. How would Mom write her article. Dad was being a dick.”

  Emily nods, so I keep going. I put my hand out and take a drink of Jack, not because I need it but because it’ll buy me time to remember it myself first before interpreting it for her.

  Dad stood up, banged into the table as he did. “Yeah, because it’s the money you make from your little hobby”—he used air quotes around that word—“that keeps this family afloat, right?”

  I didn’t know what to do. I looked at Ryan. He looked down. I saw him on his phone.

  “Finally, Mom got so pissed that she did the weirdest thing. She filled a glass of water and threw it at Dad.”

  “Are you serious?” Emily extends her hand, and I put the bottle in it. “Parents are so fucked up.” She drinks a big swig.

  “Yeah. It was kind of terrifying, you know? Seeing her act like that.”

  “Yeah. I guess your dad wasn’t too happy about that.”

  “To say the least. He yelled back at her. So Mom said, ‘You know what’s perfect? Me serving you. Like the woman I am.’ Then she stormed over to him and slammed a cup of coffee on the table. It spilled and burned his hand. He cried out and then swiped at it, sending it flying. The coffee sprayed everywhere.”

  Emily’s eyes go to my face. Faint burn marks are still there. If she looked beneath my shirt, she’d find more burns on my neck and down my arm. I got it the worst of anyone that day. She puts her soft hand on my face, and I let her concern blanket me. I let her care for me, and it feels almost safe being with her now. But only because I haven’t said the worst part yet. I wipe at my eyes. I need to finish this. Then I can decide if I stay or I go. And at least after all this, maybe I can stop seeing these flashes.

  “Livy started wailing. I wasn’t sure if it was because she got hit with the coffee or she was just scared by the shouting. Mom got a towel off the refrigerator door, put it under the ice maker. Some spilled out onto the floor—I could hear the cubes hit the floor like a bunch of rocks sliding down a mountain.”

  “Aw, John.” Emily’s hand goes on my face, but I brush it off. I’ve got to finish this.

  “She…she caught the rest and put it on my neck where the burn was the reddest.”

  Emily nods.

  “Mom screamed at Dad to leave, but he was already out the door. She picked up Livy and started rocking her.”

  Mom coos to her, but at least it was over. At least it was over, and Ryan and I could go upstairs, and it would be OK, because we’d be together. “Sh, baby. Sh.”

  “I was holding the ice to my chest and crying. Ryan was trying not to cry. I could tell. He left the room, and I followed him. I asked him where he was going.”

  “What do you mean? Where was Ryan going?”

  “He was bailing on us, going to hang with his friends.”

  Mom was on the phone, Livy sleeping on her shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe it…” She was talking to one of her friends, completely ignoring Ryan. She always let him get away with leaving to see his friends.

  So I followed him. Got in front of him. “You didn’t even ask Mom.”

  Ryan scoffed. “No way I’m taking you with me this time.”

  “You’re a jerk.” I grabbed his helmet.

  He knew he wasn’t allowed to go skating without it.

  “Man. Whenever things got bad at home for either of us, Dylan would come over. We’d get through it together, you know?”

  This time, I nod.

  “Hold on a sec,” Mom said into the phone, then slipped it into her pocket. She took Ryan’s helmet from me. It swung from her hand. “Ryan, wait. I need you to watch your…”

  Ryan got on his skateboard. Pointed to me. “I’m not babysitting him. Not after last time. You know how he is…”

  “Ryan was pissed at me, because the last time he watched me, I fell down this hill, broke a couple of ribs, and he got blamed.”

  “Was it his fault?”

  “Yes. But I lied for him. Told Mom and Dad I didn’t listen to him, when really, he and his friends dared me to go down this big hill after I’d just learned to ride my bike.”

  “Wow. Nice big brother.”

  “You know, for years, I was pissed about that. But now I think maybe that’s just the way brothers are. But that day, I was upset, and I didn’t want him to leave us.”

  I was the one who was burned, and he didn’t even care. He was going to bail. Leave me and Livy alone with Mom, crying and pissed. He was going to leave me because I embarrassed him. Got him in trouble. I couldn’t hold it in anymore, no matter what we agreed to.

  The feelings overcome me. The heat from the burn. Being left behind by Ryan. To know I embarrassed him. All of this feels fresh to me, as if it’s happening right in front of me.

  “And I did it. I told on him.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Mom’s face got white. She looked at him like he was Dad then. Like he was a horrible person. And for a second, I felt vindicated. Then…then he…he…”

  “He what?”

  “He called me a baby and he…turned away from me.”

  “And?”

  “And I told him to go die in a hole.”

  “So? Everyone says stuff like that. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Mom was so mad she turned to face me.”

  “So?”

  “So that’s when…”

  That’s when we heard Ryan get hit.

  “And?”

  “And I never saw my brother again.”

  “Oh, John…” And then her arms are around me. “That doesn’t make it your fault.”

  “If I hadn’t…if…”

  “If he hadn’t. If Pete hadn’t…it just happened. It’s not your fault.”

  I am crying like a baby, and I can’t stop. I’m shaking, and I want to die. It’s like I feel like Leah beating herself against the rocks. I can understand why she’d want that to stop. Why she couldn’t keep beating herself bloody for things she couldn’t change. I am like that too. I want the pain to stop more than I want to keep going. I hear myself howling, howling not like a dragon but a wolf. “Oh God, I want…I want…”

  Emily rocks me and says, “Sh. It’s OK. It’s OK.”

  Her body is curled around mine, and I smell the Jack, and I feel my eyes leaking all over me, my nose running like a little kid, and I don’t think I can stop. I forget how to breathe, and she’s beating me on my back, and I’m not sure how long we sit there, her holding me and telling me it’s OK. Rocking me. Shushing me. Her hands all over my head, holding it together, because it’s about to explode with the feelings. When I’m finally done, she hands me the Jack, and I down a gulp of it. I’m not worried about getting drunk. I’m not worried about anything, because I’m numb now—just totally wrung the fuck out. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

  “It’s a horrible story, John. It’s terrible. But none of it was your fault.”

  I stare out the window. At the constellation I made my own years ago when I needed Uncle Dave to be my dad. When I would have traded anyone else to be my mom. Cetus. The sea monster. Me.

  Emily stares at my dragon medallion. “You’ve been so strong for so long.”

  “Me? No. I’m not…”

  She holds the pendant. “Sh. I’m not asking. I’m telling you that you have been.” She wipes at my face. “You have to do this next part. You have to go be strong again. Go in. Get tested. Tell your parents to stand with you when you do it. They’ll understand. I see how they look at you. They want you to be OK, but they’re scared too.”

  I nod. “Maybe.”

  “Tell me about this.” She holds on to my dragon necklace like she did that time in th
e park weeks ago.

  Only this time, I tell her. She’s earned it. “My uncle Dave, the one I lived with for a while in Chicago.”

  “The welder?”

  “Yeah. When I was little, especially after the accident, he used to come and take Livy and me out. We’d go to the zoo sometimes or the museum. You know?”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “He said Livy and I didn’t get to have enough kid time. My favorite was the dinosaur exhibit.”

  “I thought it was igloos.”

  I reach out for the bottle of Jack. Then reach out for her to lean her head against my chest. “Nah. That was just with Ryan. That was our thing. So he took me to see this exhibit about the good mother dinosaur. The maiasaura named Sue. The name meant ‘the good mother,’ and she was called that because they found her babies all around her, proving for the first time that she took care of them. She was a good mother.”

  “I like that story.”

  “I like it too. Uncle Dave always took me to see her whenever he was in town. Then one time, he also bought me a telescope. And we sat outside and looked at the stars, and he bought me a book on constellations. My favorite was one called Cetus. The sea monster.”

  “I love that.”

  “The thing is, I was a really lonely kid. So—and this is the truly dorky part—I created my own dragon named Maia Cetus.”

  “A combination of the two of them.”

  I move her hand off the medallion. “Uh-huh. Pretty stupid, huh?”

  “Pretty cool if you ask me. You made this?” She picks it up again.

  “Yeah. With Uncle Dave.”

  She turns the piece over in her hand. In the streetlight, her face is so intensely beautiful as she examines my heart, dangling from the cord around my neck. She looks me in the eyes. “Maia Cetus.” She kisses the dragon pendant. “Thank you for protecting John all these years until I could get to him.”

  That small kiss takes the wind out of me. I stare at this girl who feels like the softest place to land. She smiles up at me, and I have no choice but to kiss her, soft on the lips, like she kissed my dragon. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

  “So you won’t leave?”