Somber

Part 7. Old notebooks, old promise

Agathe's small garden was actually a better place than I had thought. I found myself sitting in one of the white chairs, feeling calm surrounded by a green ocean of peacefulness. Small bell-shaped, white flowers bloomed as well in certain places. I felt myself deepening in thoughts without suffocating, as it has happened lately in my own room.

I had tried the whole afternoon to not think about today in the least, but it's until now I can feel myself drifting away from it.

My head tingled with the sound of the leaves moving with a soft breeze that came from an open tile in the roof, which was made of glass for this area. My moment of peace was interrupted by a soft creak coming from the door.

Turning my head to see, I found my brother coming in. He seemed a bit surprised to see me because instead of common hi's, he said,

"Randy, what are you... doing here?"

He hesitated in coming closer to me or not. In the end, he took a seat in an empty chair right in front of me. It was painful how obvious it was that he felt on the edge with me. He hadn't even called me by his usual "Rand" of always.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped back, "shouldn't you be at work or something?"

"I don't work each day of the week. You'd know that if you didn't stayed up in your room the whole time," he snapped back.

We sat in silence for a while, the air heavy with unspoken tension. I couldn't help but wonder if he knew about this place before me, and if so, for how long. Observing him, I noted the differences between us - his wavy, slightly lighter hair, his taller stature inherited perhaps more from our father's side. There was a twinge of envy, a reminder of our dissimilarities.

Lost in his own thoughts, my brother's eyes wandered lazily, momentarily pausing on anything green that caught his attention. Unsure whether to stay or give him space, I opted for the former, only to be met with a heavy sigh coming from him.

"Would you say something? Or are you going to stare at me only?"

"Who'd want to stare at you?" I replied. That's it, I was not staying here longer. He could keep the peace for himself. I stood and he stared as I intended to leave.

"You don't have to leave," he said matter of factly, and I knew that. I just couldn't help staying with him like this anymore.

"Whatever. My room is missing me anyways."

"Rand," he spoke, taking me by surprise. "Don't leave yet, there's," he hesitated, measuring each word, "something I've kept."

I remained at the doorknob. He sure had his ways for making me curious. I hated that. Because I knew it was probably something important, since he's not the kind of guy to beat around the bushes whatsoever.

"What is it?" I groaned as I took back my seat.

He looked a little relieved as he watched me open to keep listening, but as soon as it seemed like that, his expression became a little mortified as well. He left out a smaller sigh as he bent over, grabbing his hair and messing it with his hands.

"You'll probably won't like to hear this, but," his pauses killed me more each darn second. What is it that he can't spill? He should've let me begone. I was about to tell him so when he dropped it,

"I- I visited dad,"

What...

⎯⎯⎯✧࿓☾⎯⎯⎯

(2 years ago)

I was in the middle of my room, surrounded by piles of notebooks. I had just decided to get rid of them to free up space in my room and, in a way, in my mind as well. I felt that those notebooks stored memories which I would rather forget completely.

Rudolph appeared at the door, probably carrying some bags of trash. "What are you doing?" he asked as he peeked with curiosity. I raised my hand carrying a notebook.

"This," I replied, "I'm getting rid of all of them."

He came closer to inspect my notebooks. His face showed no expression, but his eyes reflected the nostalgia contained in those pages.

"I thought you loved them."

"Yes, and mom always hated them."

"So you're throwing them away because of her?" he asked, concerned.

I shook my head sideways, "not at all, she doesn't even know that I kept them." We both took our time to review the written pages, skimming through their grossors and old pages.

I used to write a lot, although most of it was indecipherable.

"What if someday you regret throwing them away?" he finally asked.

"I..." My thoughts cut off my voice. There were doubts, terror, and pain hidden in them, and I wanted to forget. But a part of me still held hope. Hope that someday I could look at them without remorse or something like that. And that day probably would never come. So why keep waiting?

"Do you still want to remember all of that?" I asked him this time.

He murmured. "You were still... happier, you know? When you wrote."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's do this," he began, "I promise you we'll find dad together, and you promise me to keep writing."

"Bullshit," I muttered under my breath. Deep down, I trusted in his crumbs of hope he gave, and clung to the promise he made, always.

⎯⎯⎯✧࿓☾⎯⎯⎯

(back to present)

"Why did you do that?" I asked him, memories flooding my mind. A specific one made me realize he had promised to do so. But why? After so long...

"If," he paused, "and only if you actually want to see him, I can take you." 

If I wanted to? I honestly wasn't so sure. Many years had passed, and I kind of understood now what happened... I didn't know if I still wanted to see him knowing his truth. But if I didn't, I knew I'd regret not taking this chance.

"Where is he?"

"He's... closer than we thought," he replied.

Of course he is. I could even make guesses and probably I already knew where he was. I had no more doubts. I totally should see him.

"When can you take me?" 

This story will continue...

My calendar currently won't let me update as frequently, but I'm working in both, redesign and plot holes 😅 it's my very first time writing a mystery novel, I do have the feeling it won't be perfect so I'm trying to get pass that perfectionism in me. 

Do tell me, what do you think about the whole story so far? Are you guys ready to meet more of Randy's past?