The 90's Kid

Left Right, Left Right

The advent of driving an hour and a half from Vancouver to Attica was not boring, but tense. What if Raris would not come back? What if they were stuck with this shell of their family member forever? What if Cavis’s parents didn’t believe him? I mean, a random boy that looks nothing like their son just randomly walks into the place claiming to be him; that is just improbable, isn’t it? What would they say to him regardless, what would his father say to him?

   Cavis let out a sigh for the nth time, attempting to get the tension out of his chest, or rather, the chest that was not his. It did not work. 

 Teagan attempted to get rid of tension a different way, although it proved more ineffective. He asked Cavis questions about his life and his college. It was odd, because mentally, both Teagan and Cavis were the same age, yet one patronized the other to the point of annoyance. Anytime the brother attempted to get him to laugh with something Raris presumably found interesting, Cavis could not understand it, as they contained words like iphone, flatscreen, hoverboard, Xbox, DVD, Netflix, and other things he could not seemed to catch. When he finally got pissed enough at not understanding a single thing, the car ride was about over. Cavis begged a constant underlying question, almost not wanting to hear the answer. He asked what year it was. 

  Teagan stared at him like an idiot. “2019? I mean you sh--”

  Cavis’ eyes widen, feeling like they would pop out of their sockets. His fingers were shaking. 
 “You’re dead fucking serious?”

  “No cursin-- no, nevermind. Yeah? It can’t have been too long since you, you know…”

  “Who’s the president?”

  “Donald Trump.”

  “Donald Trump? You really are serious or... ugh, how many bits does a video game console have?”

  He stared at him like he was even dumber than presumed. “If that ain't a weird question to gage what year it is I don’t know what is.” He then pulled out his own PDA thing, a lot like the mother’s. “ I don't know, I barely even know what a bit is, but I can search it up. Although Cavis, can I ask when you--”

  “1994.” Cavis announced, feeling somehow like his breath had been knocked out of him. Now it was Teagan’s time to look shocked. Cavis even saw the mother’s eyebrows raise, who had, for the whole time, been staring intently at the rode, looking for the address given to her like a woman on a mission. 

  “Jesus, I’m never gonna get used to my kid brother saying those words.” Teagan  half-whispered. In full voice he asked, “When did you say you were born?”

  “1972.”

  The mother said something before Teagan could reply to that, exclaiming, “Child, that makes you older than me by a year!” She sighed loudly, even more exasperated than before, then jerked the car to a stop. “We’re at the address. This is it, right?”

 Cavis finally looked out the window of the car, for the first time in the duration of the ride. The place he made most of his memories of his life stood outside, blue paint chipping a bit from how he last remembered it, suburban sprawl around it ever unchanging. The porch needed to be repainted, the mailbox had been replaced, but all in all, it left Cavis feeling something rise to his throat. He had no idea why he was still afraid to enter for any other reason than the circumstance right now, it had been 25 years. But still, his dad had kicked him out of this house. 

  “Yup.” he said, feeling frozen and stuck in his chair. Teagan and his mom exited the car. When not seeing him follow Teagan stopped, hand on the door frame.