The bus smelled of sweaty gym socks and spoiled milk, chewed gum lined the bottom of the stiff seats, profanities came from every moving mouth. I rested my aching head on the cold window and watched as the small town I grew up in flew by in a whirlwind of colors. My hair, damp from the morning rain, stuck to my face and my shoulders sagged from the weight of last night's news. Though uncomfortable I leave my hair down pressed up against my back and reach up to press the silver button that alerts the driver I get off at the next stop. When the bus rocks to a stuttering halut the doors opened up. I stood and gathered my bag from the seat next to me. Dragging my feet I tripped off the bus landing on my hands and knees.

“Are you okay?” The bus driver started, but I cut her off by nodding firmly and making my way down the sidewalk. Puddles ripple as my feet collide with the still water as if in a trace of fascination I make no motion to look up. The sun reflects a glass bottle on the street to hit my eyes, awakening my subconscious to notice I was here. I struggle with the keys in my hand before I finally get the right one. The opening of the door awakens a homesick feeling in my stomach that twisted my heart until tears threatened to stream from my eyes. 

“Imree? Is that you?” A deep but faded voice echoed in the hallowed hall of my childhood home. Following the voice was a boy, no, a man. Standing soldier tall with his cocky playboy smile, Alarik stood in the door frame to the kitchen. “You look like a wreck,” he stated matter-of-factly as he walked back from which he came laughing. 

I cracked a smile and slid my wet coat off, hanging it on the hooks my dad installed. This house holds a lot of memories for me. From the dance parties to the game nights to sleepovers and bonfires. Blessed Am I … read the stained carving along the side of the hook stand. I place my hand on the words and grimace. I turn and I follow my brother into the kitchen. 

The kitchen was decorated like black ice, simple and shiny. The waft of tongue-cutting sweets hit me nose making it crickle in slight distaste, strangely not having changed from earlier years. Pictures lined the fridge from head to toe. The first one to catch my eye was torn down the center. It’s wrinkled edges stood out in the crowd for freshly printed professionalism. It captured a moment of pure happiness, a once in a lifetime moment, the moment my brother was born. Alarick. My mother chose that name because it meant noble ruler. Every night my mother would pray her only son would fight with high principles as a leader for the weak and oppressed.  

“Whatcha doin’?” whispers his memorable voice, his head resting on my shoulder. 

“Nothin’, you?” I choked out. 

A cold breeze comes to dry my eyes and with it carries a faint smell of lavender and petrichor. I turn my head away from the covered refrigerator and towards the screened back door. It seems my parents did not shut the door when they left, for the early morning rain not only covered the grass outside but the tiled floors of inside as well. Yet the pools of water went uncleaned because there was something much more important that caught my eye. The strong oak stretch its long arms out leaving a perfect place to a board. From that board built walls of green and black that danced into the army’s camouflage pattern and on top rested a black roof. A ladder touched the thick roots and a swing hung from an opposing branch. It is just as beautiful as I remember. 

“Are you coming?” Alarik called from inside the abandoned structure, his head popping out of the broken windows.

“But it’s all wet!” I replied with a smile.

“Psh. Stop your whining,” he threw back. With rhythmic steps I walked outside to be greeted by a stone walkway which I gladly, like a child, hopped one by one to. “Hurry up!” he dragged on. Childish, I thought to myself. 

The moss covered ladder was disgustingly slimy but my hands were able to grip wood stabilizing my placement. The build was simple; a firepole, ladder, windows, roof. My only complaint was that it was too small to fit two full grown people. Children, sure, we fit the whole neighborhood up here, the whole neighborhood being only me and Alarik. The cold wind whistled and the birds sang, I allowed them to take me into deeper memories. Hanging pictures with clothes pins along a string, warm cookies on a plate divowered, watermelon eating contests, secret sharing. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” I could feel his eyes gaze upon me.  

“Nothing,” I opened my eyes to see Alarick standing over me. Even though he is younger than me by four years he always like to tell people he was the oldest and people would believe him! His 6 '4 tall stature and mature facial features said “Look at me! I’m an adult.” While I never grew over 5 '3 and my cheeks will always be chubby. 

“Why do you look so sad? Your boyfriend dump you again?” Jackass. 

“No,” I snapped. “Why are you so happy? You’re dead!” I mumbled under my breath. My eyes widen in horror as red rained into my hands. Alarkic’s olive skin went pale and his dark hair bleached snow white. His golden eyes rolled back.

“No,” I whispered. “No. No. No.” The sound of gunshots rang in my ears as black blood spilled from his gut seeping through his white t-shirt. I began to panic as the boy I cherished started to be sucked away in the smoke. I reached my hand out to grab him but there was nothing there. I could do nothing but shrivel up into a ball in the corner.

“No. No, please don’t leave me” I cried. I finally felt the broken pieces of my heart hit the bottom of my stomach causing me to feel like I was going to vomit. But I would not vomit, I refused to let my heart to break. I had been doing so well. What is wrong with me?

“Imree?” A honey sweet voice called out from the house. Mom. “Imree, sweetie. Are you there?”

Walls built in front of me, blocking me from fresh air, the sight of my parents and glued my mouth shut. I stuck my hand out one of the windows and waved as to not let mom worry. Inhale…one, two, three. Exhale...three, two, one, I told myself. They’ll want to see you. Hold it together! 

I felt him before I heard him. “Imree,” I froze. “Are you okay?” I nodded my head while keeping it hidden in my knees. 

Without another word my father squeezed into the damp wooden fort and sat next to me. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to his heart. I broke. Even though he spoke words I had heard the whole way home his voice triggered something within me and my head stopped spinning, my heart stopped falling apart and instead started to mend itself. In that stillness reality of the situation welcomed me at its front door and all I could do was watch, but the fear of death no longer scared me and instead I welcomed it right back. 

“I brought cookies,” said mom proudly.