Being Real - Ch.1 Coming Home

by ~lorikitty

being real

Chapter One - Coming Home

  hometown's never quite the same once you've been gone for seven years.
Mandy had realized this, of course, but had still harbored some secret
hopes, until they'd been slowly slashed to pieces during her first
half-hour after getting off the bus at the local greyhound.
  she should've realized it when she'd seen malls instead of the usual
stretches of flatland-covered-in-grass, though that was easily
dismissed as "we aren't that close yet". Even as she'd seen the station
coming up too quickly, she'd insisted to herself that she had one more
to go, despite the large, familiar re-painted sign that said "Welcome to
Gavingston" which was somehow suspended from sky-hooks or some such, since
it hovered over the roof of the bus-station.
  Now, standing in the light-but-consistant rain outside of an all too
familiar house, she realized this place may look different, but the ghosts
haunting her memories hadn't really changed.
  She'd last stood in this spot seven years ago, give or take a few months.
Her father had been in one of the back rooms, furthest from this street.
If she squeezed her eyes hard, she could still picture him sitting in his
favorite recliner, a beer close enough to his hand that he could grab it
with little effort. Usually the television would be on mute with subtitles
because he didn't want her little brother to wake up. Spoiled, she
remembered. Her younger brother had always been spoiled. Even by herself,
she'd always spoiled him. He was that kind of kid.
  "I'm leaving," she'd said, standing near the doorway to that back room.
Her dad looked like he'd wanted to protest, then seemed to forget about it.
She remembered that look, the one that was about to launch into all the
reasons the world was about to end. She hurried over and gave him a hug
before he started one of his speeches she'd always felt obligated to
listen to until he was finished.
  Patting her back awkwardly, since these strange displays of emotion were
slightly uncomfortable for him, he said, "stay safe now Mandy and don't
burn any bridges. You'll always be welcome here, if things don't work out."
  She'd nodded, and remembered thinking to herself that she'd make things
work. There was no way in hell she'd ever come back here.
  Two weeks later, she'd come back for the funeral. It was shocking and too
much and she didn't know if she'd ever be able to get over it.
  Anyway. Too much remembering. If she wasn't careful, the light rain would
fool her into thinking she was crying. seven years was a long time. She was
here now for something completely different, because of a letter someone
sent her, and for another funeral. Orienting herself, she aimed for the front
door, pushing those old ghosts to the back of her mind. Guilt wasn't something
she wanted to feel right now.
  "Mandy!" The elderly woman didn't seem seven years older, which was something
of a relief. Then, even as the relief washed over her, the woman reached just
inside the door and a cane appeared in her hand. Relief was quickly replaced
by a now-familiar ache. She'd been gone for too long.
  "Oh, you're so mature now, Mandy! Too long, sweetheart. You should visit more."
  At least Nana hadn't changed, Mandy thought to herself. Aside from the cane,
she was exactly as Mandy remembered.
  A shy looking boy appeared behind Nana, a hand clutching her pant-leg as he
gazed up at Mandy. Big brown eyes stared at her, making the ache burn deeper.
She'd missed seeing him grow up, missed kissing his first boo-boo, and all the
things big-sisters were supposed to do and see. Sadness she felt, but not enough
regret to feel guilt.
  "Hi, Ben. Do you remember me?"
  A soft glow filled her heart as she watched him nod, a smile curving her lips.
She certainly had never forgotten him. In her room, there was a wall covered with
pictures of Ben. She might not have seen Nana in seven years, but they hadn't lost
touch. Nana had always sent pictures of herself and Ben, and every photo had been
lovingly framed and hung.
  "Of course he does, child! I've made sure every morning he remembers, and every
night when he goes to bed. He's got your picture on his night-stand you know."
  Mandy lifted her gaze, finally looking into Nana's eyes. One blue eye and one
green eye, and still twinkling with some unseen mischief, which you only saw in her
offspring, now.
  "Child? Thank you, Nana. I needed that," she grinned at her grandmother, her own
purple eyes glinting with a sort of near-tears mischief. She really should've at
least visited.
  Nana shooed her into the house, and Mandy scooped up the eight year old Ben as
she went in. Stiff at first, he gradually clung to her in a sideways hug, and she
kissed the top of his messy blonde hair.
  "Miss me, Ben?" Mandy asked, setting him carefully on the floor so he could
regain his equilibrium. She smiled as he nodded at her.
  Grabbing her hand, he tugged her toward her old room. Allowing him to pull her,
she glanced back to see Nana wiping her eyes, staring at the two of them. She
quickly glanced away, not wanting to see what she was already feeling.
  Her room was exactly the same, except with more dust. Not that she'd ever dusted,
but at least if she'd lived here, there would've been less of it. Plopping her bag
on the bed and trying not to inhale the cloud of dust, she glanced around. The
computer on the desk could be replaced with her laptop, and the heap there now
was good enough for the library. Maybe. Pictures of Ben needed to be placed, and
the clothes in the closet replaced with what was in her bag. This was her room
again, for an indefinite period of time. Hopefully at least another ten years.
Nana was young yet.
  She smiled down at her brother, unzipping her bag. "I brought you something. Do
you like games?"
  "What kind?" his first words to her.
  "I've got a couple shooters, but mostly the kind where you walk around and are
somebody else," she replied, pulling a popular RPG from her lap-top bag, "Do you
have a computer?"
  He nodded, and as he grabbed her hand, she prepared for another trip down
memory-lane.
  His room was different, of course. No more crib, the changing table had disappeared,
and of course the diaper pail had been replaced with a less smelly trash can.
In place of the changing table was a larger desk, and a rather new computer was
covering nearly the entire surface with its printer, scanner, camera and speakers.
The tower was suspended in some odd hanger beneath the desk, and the keyboard pulled
out of what appeared to be a drawer, only it had no handle, and it was missing its
front. Tractors and trains covered his walls, and a square-covered light hung from
the ceiling, covering the room in a soft glow. Nana had always prefered the 30-watt
bulbs.
  His bedspread matched the walls, and the floor was covered in a print of train
tracks and grass. A blue train with a face was on the light-switch plate, and
again, his curtains matched his walls.
  "Your room is really nice," she said, smiling at him. He nodded eagerly, a big
grin on his face. The room still smelled new, so she knew this was a recent
change. "Birthday present from Nana?" she asked him.
  "And I was good this year. Otherwise she said Id'a had coal instead of trains."
  She smiled. Same old Nana. Her brow furrowed in a slight frown, remembering why
she was here now. Nana was older now, and needed help with the Cafe. At least
managing the cafe was more enjoyable than her old job, she reminded herself,
though almost anything was better than watching letters go by at the post-office.
Especially with Nana and Ben nearby, instead of just their pictures. She almost
couldn't remember why she'd stayed away, but knew when she went back to her own
room she'd quickly recall her reasons.
  She'd never visited therapists, or anything like that, but enough of her friends
had insinuated she would never heal until she applied pressure to her wound. Since
she'd never liked uncomfortable situations, she'd chosen to ignore the wound.
Now she was sort-of forced into dealing with it, and though she didn't resent it,
she wasn't looking particularly forward to it.
  Placing the games on his desk, she plopped herself down on his bed, wiggling to
get comfortable. "You know how to install stuff right?"
  He nodded, jiggled his mouse, and climbed up in his chair as his computer came
to life.
  "The first one might be too mature for you, Nana maybe won't want you to play it.
It's got blood and stuff, some guns, though you can use a sword with a mod, if you
wanna. The one under that has swords and bows and arrows. I think those're more fun,
cause you get credit for everything you kill, and you can use the credit to get
more abilities."
  He pulled the second one out, placing it carefully in the cd-tray. A few minutes
later he'd started his character, and was heavily engrossed in the story. Mandy
kissed the top of his head, whispered "good night" to him, and left his room.
  Walking into the kitchen, where she'd heard Nana rustling around, she halted just
inside the doorway. Nothing was the same in here. Remodeled, entirely redone. Nothing
to remember here, because nothing was familiar.
  "I did it before I wrote that letter," Nana said, knowing what she was thinking.
"Not just this room. Everything. I didn't want you to find an excuse to not stay here."
  Moving toward Nana, she opened her arms, then wrapped them around Nana as tight as
she dared. Sturdy she looked, but fragile she felt. Nana leaned her cane against the
counter, then hugged her grand-daughter tightly, Nana's eyes dampening slightly.
  "I missed you, Nana. Ben too. I've been gone too long."
  Nodding, Nana stepped back a bit, leaning against the counter for support.
  "Too long, child. I've missed you, and you missed out on Ben. You'll be there for
him now. Watch him grow up the rest of the way. I miss Carl."
  Eyes widening, Mandy stared at her Nana. "You've still got at least ten years left,
Nana!"
  Her eyes welled up as she watched her precious Nana shake her head.
  "Don't think I could live that long. Heaven knows, though, since you've survived
nearly that long. But Carl is different. It was his time, and soon, I think, it will
be mine."
  "Ten years is soon, Nana."
  "So you're a doctor now, eh?"
  Tilting her head, she glanced at her grandmother curiously, "Dr. Gil say something
to you, Nana?"
  Nana shrugged, the look on her face rather like someone who's said too much. "Maybe."
  "You're just trying to scare me!" Mandy said, shaking her head quickly, "We've got
too much catching up to do for you to go, anyway."
  Nana sighed, patting Mandy's cheek gently. "We'll have cookies and milk, and then
it's to bed with you. Long day tomorrow."
  She nodded in agreement, glancing at her Nana one last time as she pulled down
plates and glasses from the cupboard.

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