All That's Left

Chapter 4 | Dorian

Present
2023
Seventeen years old

After dinner, I drove Vania to her old house. Mom told her that she was more than welcome to stay with us for as long as she wanted, but Vania declined. The weight of the situation was clear to all of us Lowe's, even little Aspen.

There was something seriously wrong with Vania. Something had happened to her in the two years she was away—something that my gut was telling me had to do with Paisley.

I kept wanting to ask Vania what had happened while she was away, back when we were having dinner, desperate to get at least a glimpse of the Vania I used to know, but Dad kept levelling me with this look that warned me to stay clear of the subject.

Back in his university days, Dad had gotten his master's degree in counselling psychology, so when he told someone to avoid potential sensitive subjects, you'd better listen.

After Vania's dad, whom my siblings and I always referred to as Uncle Brennan, died, Dad drilled the fact into us that Vania would open up to us when she was ready and that we shouldn't force her or make her feel obligated to say anything.

But that was before Vania came back as an empty shell of the person she used to be.

I was scared. Because Vania had always had the tendency to get lost in her head, and I knew for a fact that Paisley didn't help get her out. And based on her outward behavior, I didn't really want to know how Vania was treating herself on the inside, because it would break me.

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''You can really stay with us if you aren't ready...to be back in the house,'' I offer once more as we pull into the driveway of the old Stanton house.

''It's just a house, Dorian,'' she says, her voice void of any emotion.

But it wasn't just a house. This was the place where her fondest memories were created—all the time she and Uncle Brennan would get baking in the kitchen; the countless blanket forts we had built; all the good moments she had shared with Paisley. The Stanton house had bared witness to it all, but looking up at the empty two-story now, it was soulless and empty, as if the warmth of the house had disappeared when Vania's dad died.

I realized that Vania was the same as the house, in a way.

Vania stays seated next to me, staring up at the window of her old bedroom, like she did when I found her earlier in the day. Then, after a minute, she slowly gets out of the car, and I'm quick to follow, grabbing her bag from the seat in the back.

I dig into the pocket of my jeans, pulling out the set of keys Vania had handed me for safe-keeping two years ago. Uncle Brennan had left the house to Vania and Paisley, but Paisley had made it crystal clear that she was never coming back to Penasco.

I guess now the house belonged to Vania.

I had her the set of keys, and she stares at it in her hand for a moment, before flipping some of the keys around, and sticking the right one into the front door.

Vania slowly pushed the door open, standing in the doorway for two long moments, before releasing a sad, heavy breath, and walking inside. I followed her in, closing the door to keep the chilly night air out of the house.

This house, and Vania, needed all the warmth they could get.

With a start, I realize that I haven't been in this house for two, long years. Back then, I would be here every day, driving Paisley mad and entertaining Uncle Brennan with the latest gossip of my father.