Bookmark Memories

Chapter 1

Through the glass-tinted window stood a young, tall man gazing at the house across his. If it raised any suspicions of the resident, it didn't. The family no longer resided in the brown wooden house, they had moved out two years ago. "It [the house] brings back too many memories," his mom had told him when she noticed him looking at the moving van. She had said it so casually that it made him wonder if her reaction to the news was all a facade.

The neighbor's house would have been entirely vacated if it weren't for the basketball hoop on the driveway. He liked to think that they left it for him, so that he could envision her playing during the rain or when it was windy—he liked that about her. He liked to see the wind blowing in her face, her hair sticking to the lip gloss on her lips, until eventually, she had to tie her hair up.

He wished he could've had the courage to compete with her, to watch her mouth widen with glee as she called him names after he planted a seed of doubt in her head. Secretly she knew he didn't mean it. But just to make sure he would hug her after and apologize several times until she would forgive him with her sweet smile.

But that would never happen.

He started to get emotional every time he came to that realization. He would wipe his tears with a bounty even though there was a fresh box of Kleenex on the kitchen island. He wanted himself to feel the pain she felt right before she left, how she struggled so much until she couldn't anymore. So he forcefully applied pressure to the bounty on his skin and silenced any noise of complaint.

If he never had the chance to save her, he should at least have a consequence to suffer, he figured.

At about that time, he would walk back to the window to paint another imaginary scene of the girl. But, in the corner of his eye, he saw a white Honda pull up to his driveway and knew immediately he had to relocate to the kitchen if he wanted to avoid talking to his mother about his fantasies with his former neighbor.

Unfortunately, the kitchen was the perfect spot for his mother. She came bearing bags of groceries and scolded him for not taking them. When he eventually relented, she muttered "Good for nothing" as she took out the rest.

He knew she didn't mean it, she had told him multiple times she said stupid stuff when she was angry, but she didn't know the sting it left.

His sister never experienced that; if she did, she didn't let it bother her. She would toss a smile before getting what she wanted, just like she was doing right now. "No one's here to impress," he finally admitted in the act of being so fed up with his sister's bullshit.

She gave him a look of confusion, the way he admitted it made her work up a nerve. But she controlled herself. "I know."

"You know?" He guffawed. "What else do you know?"

She tried her best to silence her intrusive thoughts until she eventually turned on her brother, glaring at him. "What's up with you, Trevan?"

He looked deeply into his sister's eyes. He desperately wanted to tell someone what was going on in his mind, that every day he thought about her and what he would've done differently if he had known. But all that came out of his voice was a rude attitude. "Just because you're a therapist doesn't mean you have to be nice."

Her mouth dropped as if she was expecting a tenderhearted comment that her brother's kindle-green eyes had suggested. "Just because you're having a bad day doesn't mean you get to lash out at me."

"Oh, I'm the only one who does that?" He stood there stunned when his sister turned her back on him, heading for the pantry. "May[sa], I'm talking to you." She ignored him, browsing for the Oreos she had gotten the last time she went to Costco.

"I know you are," she finally said, "I'm just choosing not to talk."

"Oh, wow, you want the Nobel Prize or something?"

She suppressed a smile as she held out an Oreo. "Want one?" He completely ignored her request.

"It's not funny, May."

"How is that not funny? You're the only person who makes it known to everyone in the house that you're having a bad day."

He wrinkled his eyebrows, refusing to believe what his sister was saying. "No, I don't–you do too!"

She scoffed. "Tell me the last time I came up to you and treated you like shit."

"Okay, I didn't treat you like shit. And besides you just pissed me off right now!"

"How?"

"I mean, well, I don't know, you just put on a smile as soon as you saw me. What if I was having a bad day?"

"Then it should brighten your mood," she suggested like it was the apparent choice.

"It didn't. Not everyone is going to react the same as your goddamn patients!"

Her eyes widened with curiosity at the way her brother's facial features had progressed from neutral to this strange feeling she couldn't put her finger on. As if he was trying to insult her but instead, he was implying something else–he was trying to tell her something.

She ached for the secret her brother kept so close to him, but her mother intruded on their conversation, holding bags of groceries. "Are you going to help?" she snarled after May had already gotten the message: she started piling bags on her hand as her brother gave her a disgusted look.

She tried to imagine him saying, "suck up," but something about the disgusted look on his face didn't match the tone or the words she had thought. It was as if he was trying to make her feel like a bad person, that she did something wrong. But she didn't do anything, she convinced herself. She wasn't at fault.