Impossibly late
“Kelly?”
I know that voice. It has changed little from the last time she called me the worst brother ever. I would turn around and run to hug her if I wasn’t walking back to Eúnoia.
I try to swallow the fear, the longing and the tears as I keep walking. Walking away from the only person from home that I had ever hoped to meet again.
No one ever decides to leave the Light Caves, but some people have been forced to leave, sometimes, if they are too obsessed with something and therefore unable to be part of society.
I always knew that she would end up in that situation. It was all cute when she was a little kid pointing at everything to know what it was and everyone wanted to believe she would outgrow it, but it was clear that she wouldn’t.
I used to worry about it, when I was young and living the best stage of my life. And, I’m ashamed to admit, in my darkest time, I was grateful about it because that meant I could see her again.
Now I’m grateful that I can’t stop no matter how much I want to.
The tears make a knot in my throat as the steadiest form of magic I know surrounds me. My steps aren’t taking me anywhere anymore, so I stand in the middle of the sidewalk, and listen to her steps running towards me. I close my eyes when I felt her pass beside me.
“You silly, that only works for some kids, not for people without imagination like you and me,” she says.
If I could, I would tell her that I’m not trying to hide. I just don’t want to update the face in my memory.
When I opened my eyes, though, I’m not surprised to see the very same smile I remembered. Sally looks just a little older than the last time she winked at me as she helped me to annoy our sister.
“I can’t believe it’s really you,” she says. “I thought you were…”
She looks at me as if she was about to apologize for accusing me of something I didn’t do.
“Even before that,” she says, shaking her head slightly. “I thought the Universe was too big to find you. I didn’t really try. I mean, I did try, I had to because they told me to do it, but I had no hopes so I wasn’t too invested in it.”
They ask them to look for me? When they told her to leave home (because that has to be what happened)? Idiots. I love them, but how could they?
“They wanted me to find you,” she explains, for some reason, “and stay with you because… Well, you know, they wished I could tell you to come back.”
Of course. Nobody knows how to go to the light caves, so having her around was the closest to coming home. That’s impossible too, but they didn’t know that when they sent her away.
The pain turns into rage when I think about it. Yes, she belongs out here, turning questions into answers for herself and the universe. I'm sure she’s doing great and they did the right thing to set her free, but I’m sure she wasn’t happy to lose them forever. And they dared to tell her I belong with them right at that moment? When she was feeling lonely and rejected?
I wish I could yell at them. I wish I could hug her and be home for her. Then everything else, me being here, would make sense.
“Nobody ever understood why you left. Were you chasing something?” she adds, her voice detached at the end: she’s clearly repeating an idea she considers absurd.
Ha! It is. It’s ridiculous. But it’s also the truth. To my own surprise, I manage to nod.
Is not difficult at all—except for the shame—and for a whole beautiful second I wonder if it’s her magic that's making everything easier.
I know it’s not that. Even if it was possible, it couldn’t be that or I would have noticed.
Nothing has changed just because she’s here.
But I can talk to her! Maybe not to tell her why I’m here and why I can’t stay, but I could apologize, or tell her that I love her, that our parents love her, and it’s good that she’s free to wander and to wonder, and there are other people like her that can become home.
“I need to leave,” I whisper instead. “Let go.”
She doesn’t.
She comes closer, slowly. It’s kind of scary, until she pokes me with her index finger and exhales.
I laugh, for real, for the first time in centuries. When I talk, the knot in my throat seems to be gone. “Now you believe in ghosts?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t not believe in anything. And you had all the characteristics… Well, the characteristics from the stories at home. Ghosts are different to each culture. Because they all have them, you know? One way or another.”
Well, I’m not one.
“If anything, I’m the opposite of a ghost,” I say.
I guess it’s allowed because it’s a metaphor, and not even a good one.
“Like a zombie?” She raises an eyebrow.
A what?
She laughs. “It’s an Earth myth, about the body coming back from death instead of the soul. You do look a bit undead. But you wouldn’t be crying without a soul.”
Oh.
I am crying.
I guess that’s where the tears went.
I know that voice. It has changed little from the last time she called me the worst brother ever. I would turn around and run to hug her if I wasn’t walking back to Eúnoia.
I try to swallow the fear, the longing and the tears as I keep walking. Walking away from the only person from home that I had ever hoped to meet again.
No one ever decides to leave the Light Caves, but some people have been forced to leave, sometimes, if they are too obsessed with something and therefore unable to be part of society.
I always knew that she would end up in that situation. It was all cute when she was a little kid pointing at everything to know what it was and everyone wanted to believe she would outgrow it, but it was clear that she wouldn’t.
I used to worry about it, when I was young and living the best stage of my life. And, I’m ashamed to admit, in my darkest time, I was grateful about it because that meant I could see her again.
Now I’m grateful that I can’t stop no matter how much I want to.
The tears make a knot in my throat as the steadiest form of magic I know surrounds me. My steps aren’t taking me anywhere anymore, so I stand in the middle of the sidewalk, and listen to her steps running towards me. I close my eyes when I felt her pass beside me.
“You silly, that only works for some kids, not for people without imagination like you and me,” she says.
If I could, I would tell her that I’m not trying to hide. I just don’t want to update the face in my memory.
When I opened my eyes, though, I’m not surprised to see the very same smile I remembered. Sally looks just a little older than the last time she winked at me as she helped me to annoy our sister.
“I can’t believe it’s really you,” she says. “I thought you were…”
She looks at me as if she was about to apologize for accusing me of something I didn’t do.
“Even before that,” she says, shaking her head slightly. “I thought the Universe was too big to find you. I didn’t really try. I mean, I did try, I had to because they told me to do it, but I had no hopes so I wasn’t too invested in it.”
They ask them to look for me? When they told her to leave home (because that has to be what happened)? Idiots. I love them, but how could they?
“They wanted me to find you,” she explains, for some reason, “and stay with you because… Well, you know, they wished I could tell you to come back.”
Of course. Nobody knows how to go to the light caves, so having her around was the closest to coming home. That’s impossible too, but they didn’t know that when they sent her away.
The pain turns into rage when I think about it. Yes, she belongs out here, turning questions into answers for herself and the universe. I'm sure she’s doing great and they did the right thing to set her free, but I’m sure she wasn’t happy to lose them forever. And they dared to tell her I belong with them right at that moment? When she was feeling lonely and rejected?
I wish I could yell at them. I wish I could hug her and be home for her. Then everything else, me being here, would make sense.
“Nobody ever understood why you left. Were you chasing something?” she adds, her voice detached at the end: she’s clearly repeating an idea she considers absurd.
Ha! It is. It’s ridiculous. But it’s also the truth. To my own surprise, I manage to nod.
Is not difficult at all—except for the shame—and for a whole beautiful second I wonder if it’s her magic that's making everything easier.
I know it’s not that. Even if it was possible, it couldn’t be that or I would have noticed.
Nothing has changed just because she’s here.
But I can talk to her! Maybe not to tell her why I’m here and why I can’t stay, but I could apologize, or tell her that I love her, that our parents love her, and it’s good that she’s free to wander and to wonder, and there are other people like her that can become home.
“I need to leave,” I whisper instead. “Let go.”
She doesn’t.
She comes closer, slowly. It’s kind of scary, until she pokes me with her index finger and exhales.
I laugh, for real, for the first time in centuries. When I talk, the knot in my throat seems to be gone. “Now you believe in ghosts?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t not believe in anything. And you had all the characteristics… Well, the characteristics from the stories at home. Ghosts are different to each culture. Because they all have them, you know? One way or another.”
Well, I’m not one.
“If anything, I’m the opposite of a ghost,” I say.
I guess it’s allowed because it’s a metaphor, and not even a good one.
“Like a zombie?” She raises an eyebrow.
A what?
She laughs. “It’s an Earth myth, about the body coming back from death instead of the soul. You do look a bit undead. But you wouldn’t be crying without a soul.”
Oh.
I am crying.
I guess that’s where the tears went.
I thought I'd never had the chance to write the scene of Sally finally finding her brother as her family unreasonably expected, because this is part of a longer story. But the Epic Character Challenge organized by LexiCon (WordiGirl) gave me the excuse to do it. Now, a teaser for what may never happen:The title should be read literally, because of something they mention in this short story. That's part of the grounds for that long story that I may never take the time to write.
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