The 90's Kid

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It had been a couple minutes since the person everyone had assumed was Cavis had spoken a word. He stared at the ground not speaking, looking strained. Beatrice was starting to get worried.

"Cavis?" she prodded. Raris could feel her heart erratically thumping in her chest. He spoke.

"Mom, do you remember the story you always told me about an old man randomly running into your hospital room about a week after you found out you were gonna have me prematurely? You said he looked all frantic and worried but as soon as he caught sight of you..."

"He smiled. He smiled really really big and bright, like an angel. That's how I knew you were gonna be alright," His mother finished, eyes widening, whispering as if she didn't know if she could trust her own words. "Oh Raris..."

Both Raris' mom and brother got down on the floor into the huddle, the Wishaws moving away from him so they could hug him close.

"It's really you?" Teagan grabbed him by the shoulders, staring into his face intently. Raris could have smiled at the complete look of concentration his brother put on him.

"It's me, Teag. Although..." He looked at the Wishaw's, a little ways off on the floor. Raris could only describe their expression as smiling unhappily. He was glad, at the very least, that their pain had dimmed.

"...I remember being Cavis," he admitted, seeing Beatrice's and Cavis' mom's shock as he did.

"From just today, or..." Beatrice tapered off as she gave him an inquisitive stare.

"All of it." Raris grimaced. Looking through his memories of his apparent life as Cavis Wishaw was like looking at a well-worn movie that he loved through the fogginess of a VHS tape. He remembered every scene, every line of dialog, every conflict. He remembered what it was like to feel certain things, chortle until he cried with his old friends, getting shot in the head. But no matter what, all of it was faded. Raris might have been that person, once upon a time. How, he didn't know, but he new deep in his heart that it was true. But now, in the present, he was not that person anymore. And he would never be, not really. He was Raris Tanes, the short, nerdy highschool student with the oddish haircut, the christmas lights still hung in his room, and the overprotective brother, hovering over him now like he might disappear again.

"But you know what Netflix is, right?" Teagan asked, dead serious look upon his face. Raris smiled and shoved him playfully. "I know you keep hogging the TV for it, If that's what you're saying."

Teagan breathed a sigh of relief, and pulled Raris off of the floor just to mess with his hair. Raris sputtered, embarrassed, as everyone else got up from the carpeted ground. "Yep, you're my younger brother."

"I'm technically older than you by 15 years, so you can shove it."

Teagan snorted. "Hey man, I ain't the one going through highschool twice."

They bantered on until Raris caught wind of how all the adults stared at him. It was with humor, with pride, with happiness, and most important of all, with contentment. He smiled widely at all of them, not realizing he had stopped talking completely to smile at them until his mom broke his stupor with a confused, "What's wrong?"

Raris blushed. "Nothing, but..."

"Who wants to play the newest Super Smash Bros. with me?" he declared rather suddenly.

Beatrice confusedly shared the opinion of the group, saying, "Didn't yo-- Cavis swear off video games just a moment ago?"

"Yeah, and don't you not like them anyways?" Teagan added, raising an eyebrow. Raris smiled coyly in return.

"Cavis said video games are for kids. I am a kid, and therefore do not see a problem. Teagan, get the Switch from the car and set it up. Imma help Beatrice and Mrs. Wishaw clear all the junk out of this room."

Teagan left quickly, and his mother followed behind, muttering, "That boy don't even got the keys to the car, not to mention any common sense."

As soon as they left, Raris went to the closet that was painful to look at just minutes before, picking up the Nintendo 64's box from the highest shelf. He placed it on top of the duvet. "These things, unopened, go for a lot of money in resale, you know."

Raris did not turn around to face his partial family when saying this. He honestly had no idea how to react to them. The love he had was still there, if not faded. He remembered talking to them in the way Cavis did like it was a fanciful dream. Even the thought of turning around and not being what they expected made his heart race.

"Raris--"

"You can still call me Cavis, Bea. I mean--"

"No, she's completely right. You're Raris Tanes. I'm so sorry we had to meet in such an awful way. Nice to meet you."

He knew his estranged mother stood behind, smiling. He knew the lilt in her voice. He knew to turn around and hug her tightly, just like he faintly remembered doing as an Atari loving 7 year old.

Raris laughed a bit into the hug he initiated as she returned it. "Yeah, nice to meet you, too."

-

Behind an unread copy of Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul, in front of diagonally to a well-worn copy of Contra III that had a scratch on the side of the cartridge, covering a mini-fridge that never had a good cooling system and was meant to be fixed, was a relic from years past. 1994 specifically. It's owner is in a stiff coffin in the ground, the body having been decayed mostly in the past 24 years. Mostly decayed, except for a browning letter that had been in the pocket of the body's three piece suit. It reads:

Dear Cavis.

I know you're probably in heaven laughing your ass off at me for even writing to you. I can see your shit-eating face right now, just saying "What the heck Kevin, I didn't know you were a poet! Any other guy except me would swoon," or some other shit. But I also knew you Cavis. The serious you. The one that cried about not feeling as if his dad loved him at three am. I knew you as that kid I loved like a brother. I knew you as the only real friend that would stay with my tantrums through the night and helped me come to terms with my sexuality. I knew you as the one that played video games every day, and roped me into it, just to escape the grim and scary reality of his life. And now, I regret to know you as the kid brother I had that was never able to grow up.

So, I'm crying really hard right now and hoping that the ink doesn't bleed. I'll never get to know you as the guy who overcame his problems with his dad and was successful in life. I'll never get to know you as my fun-loving friend who finished college with flying colors and settled down somewhere and opened a video game store or something. But you know what I do know? I know, if you lived, you could have done all those things. And I'm proud to say I knew you.

I haven't moved on, and I know it must hurt you to hear it, but I need to sometime. I don't want to at all. I would keep playing Mario with your ghost, If I could. I love you that much. But I know I need to move on. I know that you would have wanted me to.

My sister misses you, your family misses you, and the controller I will always keep in my room that belongs to you misses you. You will be remembered.

See you soon, Kevin Harris.

The writer of the letter looked at the SNES controller, behind the book, in front of the cartridge, on the mini-fridge. It was the dead of night, and his husband was asleep behind him on the bed, completely unaware that his partner had gotten up just to stare at a remote in their shared, cluttered closet. Kevin smiled in reverie, staring at the controller.

"I know I'm just talking to myself, and you are probably still laughing your ass off. But I've been having this feeling all day, as if you moved on, too. Wherever you are, just don't forget about me, jackass."

He closed the closet door and returned to bed.