Dream // Van McCann

5. You Can't Run From Your Past

I still remember her parents. Clara has her father's eyes and nose, and her mother's beauty. Her father was already graying at the time, showing the signs of age. Now 8 years has passed and I wondered how they were doing.

I did try to reach out to her parents when I got concerned about Clara's letters but their phone was disconnected and I've since stopped trying. Some part of me thought they were upset things didn't work out, some part of me thought they blamed their daughter's death on me. I knew that wasn't true but I couldn't help but worry. And now, years later, I'm making an effort to find them.

It's been ages since I logged into Facebook. I've always wanted to deactivate my account but it's the only way to contact some of my relatives so I've kept it. There were a ton of notifications which I ignored. They were mostly from relatives wishing me a happy birthday and asking when I'd come home for good. I went straight to the search bar to type in her mum's name: Celia Jones. If I searched her father's name, I'd be here forever.

Despite Celia being an uncommon name, several Celia Jones exist. I had to narrow the search to the state of Illinois and that's where I found her. Her brown hair was completely grey now but I instantly recognized her face. I clicked on her profile and began looking for any signs that she still used Facebook. Even though her profile picture was several years old, she changed her cover photo just last month. Adding her as a friend would do no good so I decided to message her.

Hello Mrs. Jones,

I know quite some time has passed but I was thinking about Clara the other day and was wondering how you were all doing. I know she's not on social media so I thought I'd reach out to you instead. Sorry for not reaching out much earlier.

Van x

I read the message over and over again and tweaked it until I was happy. All I could hope for was that she'd respond. When I dreamt about Clara in her bedroom and her mum walked in asking about me, it gave me hope that she didn't entirely hate me. I hit send and closed my laptop. Even though it was a simple message, sending it gave me some motivation and hope.

I went to my room in search of some stationery. When I first moved to Seattle, I bought some stationery thinking I could gift them to Clara someday. She never gave me her address so they've sat in my drawer for years. Now I finally have a use for them.

The stationery was quite old but still of good quality. There were 10 total, each with a different design unique to Seattle. The first one was of the Seattle skyline from Kerry Park so I chose that one and brought it out to the table to write. I tried to find the nicest pen I had and stared at the blank page before me. In the neatest handwriting I could muster, I wrote:

Dear Clara,

Oh, how things have changed. I'm the one writing to her for once! There was something liberating about it, like I was breaking the law and getting away with it. And then I thought long and hard about what I wanted to say. Like Larry said, I had a lot to say. Figuring out how to put it into words and have it make sense was the hard part.

I'm writing to you for the first time. It was always the other way around. How does it feel not being in control for once?

What I'm writing isn't exactly the nicest thing to say but she needed to know how it made me feel. For years, I've received her letters unable to write back. I'd call and text her but she'd ignore me. And now I can write to her. She won't be able to write back. She has no clue where I live.

It took 8 fucking years to finally read your letter. For 8 years, I thought you were dead. And now I've just learnt you're alive.

Does your mum and dad know? And what about the woman who actually died? Does her family know? Is this truly the life you've always wanted?