Native

CHAPTER ONE

17th APRIL, 1.00 P.M.

"Do you remember what it was like to feel her arms around you?" Nathan asks, his tone dreary.

"Yeah," I say, exhaling as I speak. "It's the only thing I want to feel nowadays. What about you?"

"Hhm? Yeah, it's all I want, but it feels like it's fading bit by bit everyday, like I'm losing the memory. Does that sound crazy?" he says.

I don't answer for a couple seconds. "No, not at all. I'm going through the same thing, sadly." I say.

We lie on the emerald green grass of our backyard, facing the bright morning sky. It would be our last chance to do this. A ritual that had been part of our lives ever since I could remember is going to be stripped from us in a mere few minutes. Even if we did this again, it wouldn't be the same backyard. It wouldn't feel the same.

Nathan sits up with a sigh. I shift my vision to look at his back, the sun's rays glinting off his dark brown hair. There is a thin layer of tears in my eyes and my stomach is empty like a dried well.

"I'm gonna miss this place." Nathan says.

"I will too." I agree, sitting up. "We all will, Nathan."

He scoffs, but in a good manner. "Not Christine." he says. "She won't even remember a house before the next one."

"She is but a baby. Maybe we'll show her photos of the house some day and say 'We used to live there, you know?', huh?" I say with a small smile, trying to make things as cheerful as they could get.

"Yeah, maybe." he smiles back with that crooked dimpled grin of his that I've seen everyday of my life.

Nathan stands up and then offers me a hand to pull me up. I take it and brush off grass from the back of my jeans. We walk back into the house slowly, as if to lengthen what little time we have left.

Back inside, Dad's getting our little brother, Sebastian into his sneakers.

"No! You have to do the laces the way Mom does!" Sebastian shouts.

I see the frustrated look on Dad's face. He's doing the laces right, but he's missing the story of how Thompson the shoelace rabbit makes his turns as he runs through a meadow and finally ducks into his burrow. It was the same story Mom used to accompany tying mine and Nathan's laces when we were little. Sebastian is only four, still too young to have outgrown Thompson the rabbit.

Dad doesn't redo the laces with the story. He doesn't redo them at all. He sighs and walks out through the front door to start up the minivan.

Sebastian doesn't pout or sulk. "I miss Mom." was all he says.

"We all do, little man." Nathan tells him. Putting his jacket on, he leads Sebastian out the door.

"Get Christine and lock up, okay, Nina?" he says to me before he goes out.

"Yeah, sure." I nod.

After he closed the door, I look back at the house from where I stood in the front hall. The green walls and burgundy cushions that sat on the living room window seat. The old Venetian furniture that stood around the fireplace. The stairs, with one missing bannister. I can still remember the day it got knocked out. With our new skateboards on a warm summer day, eight year old Nathan and I put rips in the carpet and a bannister out of the stair railing. Daring to ride the boards down the stairs, he chipped a front tooth and I got a permanent scar on my chin.

So many years here, so many memories. Countless birthdays, Christmas dinners, and New Year's block parties. These memories couldn't be packed into a box and added to another home. I haven't even left yet, and I already feel like a part of me is missing.

A tear slithers down my cheek. It's warm and tastes salty on my lips. Sniffling, I grab my ring of keys from the the chest of drawers beside me. I stop when I see a tarnished silver photo frame still on the drawers. A photo of Mom is in the frame, showing her in her mid-twenties, six months pregnant and sitting on a checkered picnic blanket in the backyard, smiling at the camera as she sipped lemonade through a straw. Maybe it wasn't the camera she was smiling at; maybe it was the man that I knew was standing behind the camera. Dad.

A sad smile emerges on my lips, and I choke on it between my tears. She was so beautiful. I've dreamt of her almost every night since she died. For the first few nights, it was all old memories, and she stood out the most. Every detail about her was bright and vivid. From her smooth toffee skin to her silky dark brown hair to her pearly white grin. The way she smiled made me feel loved and secure. When I'd wake up, I'd feel like she had just let me out of an embrace, and I'd cry all day, just wanting to fall asleep so I could feel it all over again.

I look at the photo again and it's all her. My world is filled with her. Her laugh, her welcoming embrace. I just want her. "Sixteen years with you isn't enough, Mom." I croak, more tears running down my cheeks and falling onto the photo frame which I know hold in my hands. "I still need you. I-I don't know what to do without you."

I sob quietly, my hands trembling and shoulders shaking. My fingers hold tight to the photo frame till the tips of my nails turn white and I can feel the metal digging sharply into my skin.

Why didn't Dad take the photo? Why didn't he pack it? Why would he leave it here?

I knew he wouldn't forget. He wouldn't.

"You coming, Nina?" Nathan's voice interrupts my silent crying. I am dragged back into reality, and the feeling of Mom breaking away from a bug with me leaves goosebumps tingling at my back.

I cough, trying to clear the mucus that had clogged at the back of my throat. "Just a minute!" I call back, my voice still shaky. I pull on my olive green parka vest, then grab my backpack and tuck the photo frame carefully inside it. I lift up the baby carrier containing a sleeping Christine and walk out the door.

I lock the front door and go over to the minivan. All our bags are in the trunk. Dad left the house fully furnished for the new owners so we only brought our own belongings. Sebastian is seated in the backseat and Dad's already in the driver's seat.

Nathan helps me settle Christine into her baby car seat beside Sebastian. We're both grim faced and silent.

Before I get in after Christine, Nathan takes my shoulder. "Hey, no matter what, we still have each other." he says.

I smile a little. "I've been stuck with you even before birth. I don't plan on changing that anytime soon." I say.

I get into the backseat with our you get siblings and Nathan climbs into shotgun. "All ready?" Dad asks. A series of 'yes's and nods answer him.

As we pull out of the driveway, I keep my eyes trained on the house.

California holds many important memories of my life. It was the place where my family was built, where I've cried, laughed, and loved the most.

The metal of the photo frame was cool to the touch as I reached into my backpack and placed my fingers on it.

California was the last placed my family was whole, perfect, and just a few months ago, something that I thought would stay that way.