A Homecoming to Forget

by Emily Camp

  That morning I heard them arguing, she’d told my dad she was a ‘free spirit’. She was like a bird. She needed to fly. He couldn’t keep her in a cage. Like any little child, I imagined her growing these big, beautiful, bright wings more like a butterfly than a bird and flying away. My heart shattered at her comparing my dad and I to a cage. That she didn’t love us enough to want to be here with us more than anything else in the world. Even birds had nests. She didn’t say bye to me that morning. She told my dad to do it when he asked her if she was going to stay until I woke.

  I pretended to stay in bed for a little bit for my dad’s sake that morning. And when I did come out of my room and saw my dad, all red-eyed and scruffy looking, he told me that she’d left even though I already knew she had. I’d smiled and hugged him, even though I was dying inside myself. I told him we made a good team just the two of us.

  That was the day I began to journal. I needed an outlet to express my feelings.

  I thought about all those old journals and what they would tell me. I got up and looked in my closet, but they weren’t there. I always kept them, they should be somewhere. But my room was uncluttered, and they were not here.

  I crouched down and felt underneath my bed for everything I slid under there last night. I grabbed the journal and pulled it out. I looked at the message again. That’s when the idea hit me, if Janice wrote this, there had to be something in this house with her writing on it. I remembered Henry’s mom always had grocery lists on the fridge and recipes tucked away in drawers in her kitchen.

  I looked out my window to check if Janice’s Jetta was gone yet. It was. Relief washed over me. I ran downstairs and began to pull open drawers, everything neatly placed as if it was in a magazine. Did we not have a junk drawer? Who didn’t have a junk drawer? I pulled out drawer after drawer only to find more things neatly tucked away. In my mind I saw Janice saying, ‘A place for everything and everything in its place.’

  Was that another memory?

  The front door clicked shut and I froze. Did Janice come back to finish the job? Maybe she pretended to leave for work so the neighbors would note that and she’d have an alibi. I grabbed a large kitchen knife out of the block in the middle of the counter. I didn’t know what I was going to do with it, not like I’d ever used a knife to do anything but spread peanut butter on my toast.

  Her heels weren’t clicking. Maybe it wasn’t Janice after all, but it was someone. The person who left me for dead? Maybe I should have gone to school, so I wouldn’t be here all alone. An easy target.

  The floor boards creaked closer and closer to me. I held my breath because I was afraid my heavy breathing would give my location away.

  When he came around the corner I screamed and swung.

  He shouted and ducked, his hands held high. “Whoa.”

  “Benji.” I dropped the knife to the floor and held my hand to my chest.

  His eyes were huge, his face pale white as he stood up looking from me to the knife and back.

  “I thought you were my attacker coming to finish the job.” My voice came out between gasps.

  He observed the kitchen. I must have looked like I was losing my mind, because every single kitchen drawer stood open.

  I hurried to them and began to push them in one at a time. “I was looking for takeout menus.” I wasn’t about to tell him I thought his mom was the one who tried to kill me.

  He picked up the knife I’d dropped. “My mom doesn’t keep takeout menus, too much clutter.” He put the knife back in the block I’d pulled it out of and then looking at me, pushed it out of my reach. “You get those online.” He lifted his phone.

  “Why aren’t you in class?”

  “Professor cancelled.” He looked at his cell and walked around my side of the counter and began helping me push in drawers. I was never going to find her writing with him here.

  My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of the front pocket of the sweatshirt. It was Trey, I only felt slightly guilty about dreading his text while wearing his shirt. It was comfortable.

  His text read, I’m sorry about last night. Are you ok?

  “Do you want me to order us breakfast?” Benji pulled me away from my phone.

  Really, I wasn’t hungry, but why else would I be looking for takeout menus? “Sure.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I like scrambled eggs and bacon.”

  “So basic.” He smiled. “I have never seen you eat bacon, you know that, right?”

  “Well, I know I was on some kind of weird diet when I lost my memory, but bacon was my favorite before and I want bacon.”

  My phone buzzed again, Trey. Please talk to me.

  I ignored it.

  “Bacon it is.” Benji smiled.

  Chapter 11

  After breakfast, I’d waited for Benji to leave again, but he never did. I couldn’t search the house for his mom’s handwriting with him hanging around all day. So, I did the next best thing, I napped. When I woke up that afternoon feeling groggy with cabin fever. I decided to leave the house. I hadn’t been out by myself except for school since everything happened and I needed the fresh air.

  I stepped out of my bathroom. One towel wrapped around my body, another around my hair. I nearly had a heart attack when I spotted Benji sitting on the edge of my bed. I placed my hand to my heart, not only to check to make sure it was still there, but because I felt like I needed covered. “You scared me.”

  “What are you doing?” His clear eyes narrowed.

  The clothes I’d picked out were sitting beside him, including a lacy-black-itchy bra. I needed to go shopping for a comfortable one soon. Even if I still had my old bras, they wouldn’t fit me now.

  “I’m getting out of the house.” I didn’t move, it was already uncomfortable enough to be standing here in only a towel. Even if he was my step-brother I wasn’t about to get any closer to him.

  He looked me up and down which made me want to run back to my bathroom. Was he checking me out? I hadn’t gotten that vibe from him earlier.

  He then looked down at the clothes I had out. A pair of skinny jeans, which I’m sure were going to be way too skinny for my comfort, and a fitted long-sleeved shirt. “Where are you going?”

  “Are you my dad?”

  He smirked. “Are you sure you don’t remember?”

  I took a step backward. “I need to get dressed.”

  He stood way too slowly. I hated this because I’d been so comfortable with him earlier. He grinned as he passed me. A shiver went down my spine.

  I didn’t even take the time to dry my hair after getting dressed. I needed to get out of the house. I barreled down the stairs. When he called for me from the kitchen, I tried to act like he hadn’t bothered me. My hands on my hips then at my sides. I shuffled my boot-clad feet.

  He stood at the kitchen counter with a knife in his hand. “Sorry if I freaked you out.” He brought the knife down with a whack that made me jump, the tomato fell open.

  “It’s okay.”

  “I’m a little protective after what happened.” The ease of his laughter made me relax.

  “I’m just going to get some air. I’ll have my phone on me the entire time.”

  “Be careful.” He wacked another vegetable with the knife.

  “I will.” He reminded me more of a parent than an older step sibling. Then again, I’d never had an older sibling so maybe that was how they acted.

  I grabbed a light jacket from the hall closet and shrugged it over my shirt. The air was crisp when I stepped outside, but the sun was warm when the breeze calmed. The light bounced off the red, yellow and orange leaves making everything golden.

  This was usually my favorite time of year.

  Not this year.

  Not when everything as I knew it was gone.

  The walk cleared my mind, the neighborhood wasn’t that much different than I remembered. The Henderson’s house was no longer the puke green, but beige. Mrs. Porter’s flower bed was sma
ller than I remembered, and the Dudley’s sports car was replaced with a minivan.

  Even though the walk relaxed me, it didn’t bring me any closer to the answers I needed. There wasn’t a simple fix for my mind. I couldn’t google a remedy and restore my memories. It was frustrating that almost everything could be fixed with a quick search, something simple, but not my brain. When I was younger and I had an error message show up on my phone, that was what my dad did. Turned out all he had to do was reset it to the original settings. Why couldn’t my brain be that simple? Restart, reboot, refresh.

  I came to a stop when I realized whose house I’d walked to. The tire swing still hung from the oak tree in the front yard, but it drooped sideways and had green moss growing on it. My heart seized as my brain played out a clip in my mind.

  Henry spun me around on that swing. It was solid then, and no moss. My long hair swirled in the wind. Both of us laughing, the kind of laugh that made my belly hurt. That’s what life was like with Henry. I pleaded with him to stop between my giggles, because of the tendency I had to get motion sickness. What had started out as a joke, ended in Henry on his knees beside me, holding my hair back.

  My doctor said there were many different types of amnesia. As much as scientists have learned about the brain, there’s still a lot they don’t know. Some victims of this only have their long-term memories, others lose everything. I was one of the lucky ones they said. At least I only lost a couple of years. Except if my entire brain would have been wiped clean, I wouldn’t miss Henry this badly. Especially now, standing in front of his house. I remembered how I hid behind that bush when we were playing hide and seek. I was thirteen, he fourteen. Maybe a little too old for that game, but when he found me he kissed me. He tasted like Cool Ranch Doritos and he smelled like sweat. I was so mad, I pushed him down despite the fact that he wasn’t a small boy. I told him he was gross and I ran home.

  I wished I didn’t have these memories now. If I didn’t have them, then maybe my life wouldn’t feel so upside down. Maybe this was a bad dream and I was going to wake up tomorrow and everything would be back to normal. I would learn whatever life lesson I needed and we could go on with the way things were.

  “What are you doing?” His clipped voice made me jump. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jacket and turned toward him.

  Henry. My heart ached at the sight. He scowled at me. His eyes were so cold. I still couldn’t get used to the black hair, even though it did look good on him. Like me, he was thinner than he had been three years ago.

  “I just …” I hitched a thumb over my shoulder.

  “Are you stalking me?”

  I opened my mouth and looked at his house. “No. I … wasn’t it the other way around.” I clamped my lips shut as soon as it left my mouth.

  His face scrunched in an even bigger scowl than it was before. How I wanted to see Henry smile at me again. “Still holding on to that story?”

  “What story?”

  “Go to hell, Montgomery.” Then he began walking to his house. His large combat boots clunking on the sidewalk with each step.

  The red front door swung open. Like everything else, it had faded from the last time I’d been here. Or at least the last I remembered. His grandma’s head popped out, her silver hair curled around her face. “Henry? Is that Sawyer?” Her voice was crackly.

  I smiled and waved.

  “It is.” She gasped, “Come in. I baked cookies.”

  “Sawyer has to go, Gran.” Henry said.

  “She can get one for the road. I baked them for you two.”

  Henry’s jaw was clenched when he turned toward me, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his ripped jeans.

  Even though I wanted to run and get as far away from this version of Henry Nash as possible, I also wanted to be around something familiar. His grandma and her cookies were familiar and delicious. I tilted my chin up, grinned.

  “You don’t eat cookies,” he said.

  “Yes, I do.” I walked by him and straight into his house like I belonged here, because the last time I was here, I did.

  His grandma wrapped her arms around me so tight I felt like I was going to break in half. “Look at you. You’re getting way too skinny. Better have three.” She pinched my arm. For an old lady, it kind of hurt. When she slipped away from me, she smiled and winked at Henry, whose jaw was still clenched.

  “What are you waiting for?” she shuffled toward the kitchen, waving us behind her. We followed. It gave me so much comfort to see their kitchen hadn’t changed besides a couple of different appliances sitting on the counter. The cupboards were white and the walls sunshine-yellow. His grandma got out their bright dishes and plated a few chocolate chip cookies before placing them on the table.

  “You two getting home from school is always the highlight of my day.” She poured two glasses of milk.

  “Sawyer has to …” Henry started to say just as I sat down in my usual seat.

  “It’s okay, I have a minute.” I grabbed a cookie, which was warm and gooey, just the way I liked it.

  “Gran.” Henry pleaded as she sat our glasses of milk in front of us. Then he glared at me as I shoved the entire cookie in my mouth.

  “How was your day?” She stood with her head tilted, a smile on her face.

  I looked at Henry, who would not look at me as he sat in the chair directly across from me. He leaned over the plate with the cookie, his black hair fell over his face.

  “Okay.” I said.

  “Just okay,” she said.

  Horrible, actually. But I didn’t want to get into it right here. “Just okay.”

  She then mumbled something to herself, took off her apron and left the room. It was suddenly quiet.

  Even with a mouthful of warm cookie, I stared at Henry. He finally looked up at me and said, “What?”

  “What happened to us?”

  He took a drink of his milk. I resisted the urge to laugh when he came up with a milk mustache. That was killing the emo look he had going on. In fact, it almost reminded me of the old Henry. Then his eyes were cold again. “You mean how you were so obsessed with me you had to make everyone think I was the one obsessed with you?”

  “I what?”

  “How twisted is someone to hide their own underwear in someone’s room?”

  The cookies in my stomach turned. “I …” I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You don’t remember that?” He tilted his head then pointed his finger to his temple like a gun. “Probably because I guess you don’t remember shit, do you?”

  I flinched. “I’m sorry, but I …” Oh no, not now. I could not cry. I would not cry. I sniffed. I hated myself. As hard as I tried to keep it together, I just could not. I couldn’t cry in front of Henry. “The last thing I remember is you and I … going to freshman homecoming together.” I took in a gasp before it became a sob. “You were my best friend … and now the only person I care about and you … you hate me.”

  I sniffled for a second before he groaned. “Look … I don’t … we had a bad falling out and you might not remember, but I do.”

  “Bad enough you can’t forgive me?”

  He let out a long breath and pushed his hair out of his face. “Let’s go to the treehouse. My mom might be home soon, and well, you aren’t exactly her favorite person.”

  His mom? Beth? She was like a second mother to me. I blinked up at him.

  “She hates you.”

  “What did I do?”

  “Come on.” He stood up and waved me to follow. It wasn’t the cool air that hit me that almost took my breath away, but the treehouse. The one I hurt my leg on. Our place. I couldn’t believe it was still here.

  I hesitated at the rickety old ladder. It was dangerous seven years ago.

  “I fixed the nails.” He said already scaling the tree. “You’ve been up here a lot since then.”

  I remembered coming up here after the accident, but I was always hesitant. I
grabbed the board and began to follow passing the one that once had SAMHANBFF carved on it, now scratched out.

  “I can’t believe it’s still here.” I said as I climbed in.

  “Let’s get this over with.” He sat down, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his boots were large much larger than I remembered his feet being. He pulled a vape out of his back pocket. “Assuming you don’t remember.”

  “You think I’m lying?” I leaned against the wall.

  “You might not want to do that, this isn’t as sturdy as it used to be.” He took a hit from his vape, a cloud of vanilla filled the air.

  I stood up straight and crossed my arms.

  He patted the floor. “Make yourself at home. This is a long story, Montgomery.”

  I looked down at him, shuffled my feet, and finally sat. I wanted to cross my legs under me, but my pants seemed too tight. After a little adjusting, I settled on mirroring him, with my legs straight out. My feet were half the size of his.

  “It began right after your dad married Janice.” He took another hit, blew out the cloud.

  “What began?”

  “The beginning of the end of us.”

  My heart sank when he said ‘the end of us.’ I didn’t want to think of it as the end, we were just in a fight, we’d make up, like all best friends.

  “Anyway,” he said, “Benji …”

  “My step-brother, Benji?”

  He paused and stared at me, “If you would quit talking, I could finish the story.”

  “Sorry.” I pressed my lips between my teeth.

  “When Benji first came around you idolized him. You’d always wanted a big brother. You talked about him twenty-four seven. He even did brotherly things with you. He took you to a college football game. I was supposed to come along.” He took another hit, blew out the vapors and shoved it back in his pocket. “I waited for you, but you never showed. I called, and I texted. You didn’t respond. But it was okay because later that day, you texted me with an apology and an excuse that Benji didn’t have room for me. Then a few months later you began spending time with Trey Oliver when he was your partner for a project. That was okay, too, because we were still friends, but you kept forgetting about me.” He air quoted forgetting. "But I didn’t care because you were still my friend. Until one day, I tried to talk to you about it, because you promised to come with me to the races and you stood me up. It was the first time you flipped out.” He scratched the back of his head, his hair flopped over his face.