All We Leave Behind

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Epilogue

One

I woke with a sense of dread. I was awash with anxiety, an impending sense of irrational doom. It was an entirely inexplicable feeling. A nightmare unremembered I told myself, that’s what it must be, a nightmare unremembered. A loud crash of thunder exploded as if just outside my bedroom window, and in my panicked state, I nearly jumped out of bed. I live alone, and at times like this I wish I had a partner. Someone to tell me ‘relax dear it’s just the storm.’ or ‘you were having a bad dream that’s all.’ Although I had calmed down some, I was in no condition to fall back to sleep. I pulled myself out of bed and headed towards the bedroom window. The view out my tenth floor window was spectacular. Nature’s fury lit the sky with blazing arches of electricity. Flashes illuminated the otherwise pitch-black sky. In the moments of bright light one could clearly see the sheets of rain coming down. I watched for some time drawn into the majesty of nature’s display before pulling myself away from the window. Glancing at my alarm clock the bright red numbers informed me it was just past three in the morning. I stifled a yawn somewhat unsuccessfully, and slowly and sleepily shuffled towards the washroom. Squinting in preparation I flicked the light switch on. My bathroom was small and immediately upon entering it I was directly in front of the mirror. I looked tired and worn out. I had dark circles under my eyes, I hadn’t shaved for a few days and I’d been gaining weight. I figure I was about twenty pounds or so above my comfort zone. I’d been eating too much fast food, drinking far too much and rarely exercising. I looked again at my face in the mirror. It was rounder than it used to be, pudgier. My black hair, though short, still managed to appear disheveled. There were still hints of the man I used to be though much of it had disappeared. At thirty seven I suppose I should be happy to have retained all my hair. I shouldn’t care about the gain in weight or the thin wrinkles around my eyes. Still, the subtle changes my lifestyle had brought wasn’t going to help my prospects any. I was terrible at approaching women. I became nervous too easily. I was inclined to go silent and just not say anything at all. Silence hadn’t proven to be an effective ice breaker. I reached for my bottle of chalky antacid tablets. Recently I had been suffering from increasingly bad bouts of indigestion. Far too busy to visit the doctor was my excuse but truthfully I was putting off the visit. I was certain I would be condemned for my lifestyle. How would I answer his questions ‘How much have you been drinking? Have you been exercising regularly? Are you eating well balanced meals?’ Flicking the light off, I shuffled back to bed and pulled the blankets back up around me. Tomorrow I’d start exercising and eating better, yes, tomorrow. How many times had I said that?

I woke groggily and sluggishly reaching for the ringing phone. It was still dark in the room the red lights of the alarm clock displaying quarter to five in the morning. It took three tired and discombobulated attempts before I successfully grasped the phone.

Yes… Hello? My voice sounded gravelly my vocal cords unprepared to work so soon after waking.

John? Her voice cracked with either age or perhaps emotion. The woman’s voice sounded familiar yet I couldn’t place it.

Yes this is John…who is this?

It’s your Aunty Beth. John… your brother Frank…. he’s dead. I felt like I’d been punched in the chest, winded, I had no idea what to say. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to speak. I wanted to disbelieve, this couldn’t be happening.

What? was all I could muster, my word barely a whisper.

It’s a terrible tragedy… we’re all in shock. I hadn’t seen Aunt Beth in a long time but it sounded like her. My hope that this was a terrible prank call was evaporating.

How? My voice cracked but I managed to push the word out with more strength this time.

There was an accident. They were driving home. They had just had dinner with your father

Megan? Kimberly? Megan was his wife and Kimberly their child, my niece.

Megan is in critical condition and Kimberly… she… I’m so sorry John. Poor Kimberly… only ten.

How’s… Dad? How’s he holding up? The mental images of my brother and his family flooded my mind. I raised my hand and pinched the bridge of my nose wiping away the tears that were welling there.

It’s hard to say. He puts on a good front. He’s as hostile as he ever was.

He told you to call me didn’t he?

Yes. It had been five years since we had spoken more than our annual Christmas phone conversation. It was a call that I made every year and each time part of me regretted making it. I told myself that one day he’ll be dead and you won’t be able to make any calls to him at all, that I’d regret not being able to talk to him even if he loathed me. Dad had a good relationship with Frank. He didn’t despise Frank like he did me. Part of me was jealous of their relationship, a big part.

Does Jen know yet? Jen was my older sister, the middle sibling. Her relationship with Dad was even worse than mine.

No. I was hoping you might…

Of course.

Thank-you. They’ve got Megan at Credit Valley hospital…

Right…I should go to the hospital. If you want a ride or anything I could give you a lift…

I have more phone calls to make. I’ll offer my prayers from here and visit in the morning. You just lost a brother John. You shouldn’t be driving, call a cab. She was right of course.

Ok I will. Bye Aunt Beth.

Bye dear. Be strong. I felt the emotion choke up in my throat as I rested the phone on its receiver.

I was pacing at the foot of my bed my mind flitting from images and moments in time that me and my brother had shared. I could still remember the way the plastic gun handle felt, the acrid burning smell the caps would emit when they made the fake gun sound. I was ten and Frank was thirteen nearly fourteen. The game was cops and robbers. Frank wanted to be a cop at that age. We all wanted things that we either lost interest in or could never achieve. Jen was always on my team since she was only a year older than me. Jen and I were always the robbers. Frank let us win at first. He told us the good guys always win in the end. The world was so simple back then, so black and white.

I thought about calling my sister but I wasn’t ready yet. I left my bedroom and entered the kitchen. I opened the cupboard I kept my alcohol in and made myself a decent sized scotch. My hand was shaking terribly as I poured it. I took a sip of the drink but the warm familiar burn failed to provide comfort. I suppose I was beyond seeking solace in drink.

I slipped to a more recent memory. It was four years ago. We were having a family dinner at Jen’s house. The night had been going so well and was almost over. Jen was on the couch beside Rachel, her partner. The two had exchanged a passionate kiss. The drink had been flowing that night and perhaps the kiss was a little much for a family gathering but it wasn’t lewd either.

Don’t do that around Kimberly. My brother’s voice was full of anger.

What, kiss my partner? You could tell she was trying not to yell at him the restrained anger clearly bubbling just below the surface.

Just not around Kimberly, ok? He was trying to keep his tone hushed. I remember glancing at Kimberly. I could tell she didn’t really understand what was happening. She was only six at the time.

Maybe we should go now. Megan’s voice, less a question more a statement, she was tugging at Frank trying to pull him back towards the door.

Are you like Dad now?! It’s natural you know! It’s normal! Jen was no longer holding back each word spat with unfettered rage and hostility. Frank and his family left just moments later. As a group, my sister, my brother and I didn’t get together again.

I deftly move my glass of scotch from side to side the liquid inside swirling within. I’d see how close I could get the booze to the lip without any spilling over the side of the glass. It was my own little game and I’d gotten quite good at it. I glanced over at the phone again. I steadied my glass and took another sip before picking it up to dial. I had to look my sister’s number up, a testament to both my state of mind and the rarity to which I called her. Taking one last deep breath I dialed the numbers.

John, why are you calling so late? Did something happen to Dad? I had been fairly certain what I was going to say having mulled it over in my head.

I… My words just seemed to get lost in my throat, I couldn’t get them out.

It is Dad isn’t it?

No.

Then why are you calling me at… I could hear a rustling sound as if a brief flurry of distant movement from her end of the line. Rachel’s sleepy voice could be heard in the background saying it’s just after five in the morning. My sister Jen repeated Rachel’s words but added her own color to them. It’s just after five in the morning why the hell are you calling me! There was anger in her voice, a hostility unmasked by the niceties we put up when we haven’t just woken up a moment earlier. I think it was my sister’s anger mounting atop my grief, I was no longer holding it together.

It’s Frank! I sobbed the words out, my head resting against the counter, my eyes shut tight from the pain.

What happened to Frank? Her voice drained of anger and force now carried desperation. What happened to Frank!?

It was a car accident. I pushed out the words as if I wasn’t the one saying them. It was the only way I could manage to speak. Frank and Kimberly didn’t survive.

Good God.

Megan is in the hospital.

Which one? I could hear Rachel asking in the background what was wrong.

Credit Valley.

Oh, ok, we’re going to go. Are you going?

Yeah.

Ok, ok, ok…. She was stuttering. It was hitting her; I could hear her voice cracking. The shock of what it meant was washing over her. I’ll see you there.

I placed the phone on its receiver and poured the last of my drink into the sink. I headed towards my bathroom, I’d take a shower. I didn’t want to get to the hospital before my sister. I didn’t want to face Dad alone. At least Jen would have Rachel to offer her support.

I got into the shower. The soothing water allowed me to forget a little of my misery. Any escaping tears were immediately washed away. It was as if they’d never been there at all. My mind soothed, began to drift.

It was thirty two years ago. Frank was eight I was five. Frank was readying himself. Watch me! Dad, watch this! I could hear my Dad and Mom laughing in the background. Those times were happier, they were innocent. My brother started his run across the slippery wet grass on our yard and then leaped into the air. He bounded over the sprinkler landing perfectly on its far side. His body bathed in tiny water droplets, he stood triumphant and proud, his arms puffed out at his hips. I had watched and was eager to do it just as my brother had. I started my run and just before entering my jump I tripped and went tumbling to the ground. Skidding along the wet grass I slammed head first into the metal sprinkler. My brother standing closest to the accident was the first to reach me. He cradled my head and looked down at me with tears already welling up in his eyes.

John you’re not as strong as me you have to be careful. Frank’s words stuck with me, cemented in place by the worry worn on his face that day. When my parents were close enough to examine the injury they looked somewhat relieved. I had a head wound, a minor cut. It was bleeding rather profusely as head wounds often do. It was the blood that had worried Frank. I had to get five stitches. The following month my brother yelled at me every time I did something foolish, eventually I stopped taking risks.

I watched the used water trickle down the shower’s drain, it was to me a metaphor for memories. There are now only a handful of people that can remember that day, my father, me and perhaps Jen. When no one is left to remember, the moment ceases to exist, it just slips away. I turn off the shower and watch the last of the water drain away before exiting to towel off.

I call a cab as my aunt had suggested and hastily throw some clothes on. It isn’t long before I’m waiting just inside the front doors of my condo building. Through the glass doors I can see the round about where the cab should drive up. Water is flowing through the round about and down the buildings short driveway to the waiting storm sewers on the street. The rain was no longer as heavy as it was when I marveled at the power of the storm earlier. It’s lighter, less volatile. In reflection it seems wrong to have marveled at the majesty of the storm. It must have been at least partially responsible for the death of my brother. I watch the cab drive up to the front of the building, its back tires lifting and spraying water from the street, it all seems so surreal. He can’t be dead. An irrational part of me still clings firmly to doubt, even though I know he’s gone. A last desperate hope that a mistake has been made that my brother and his family are home safe, that nothing is wrong. I open the back door of the cab and slide into the seat. Before I could tell the driver to take me to the hospital he was apologizing for being late.

Sorry about the wait sir. There are many accidents slowing the traffic down. I winced.

Credit Valley hospital please.

I stare through the window, watching the cars pass by. Through the water droplets their shapes appear blurred and distorted. A memory as vivid as if it was yesterday creeps up on me. We were driving to the Carolina’s for a family vacation. I was young only six years old, Frank had just turned ten. We’d hit a storm, a terrible one. The rain was heavy and more than once my mother had asked Father if we shouldn’t be pulling over. Dad wasn’t going to stop, said he’d already booked our motel, that we had to push on to make our reservations. I was scared. I remember the lightning blazing across the night sky. We were on a freeway and there was nothing to impede the view, we were surrounded by fields on both sides. I’d started to cry and Dad yelled at me. Told me he needed to concentrate on driving, told me not to be a baby. I was quietly whimpering then, too afraid to make a noise. The youngest and smallest of my siblings meant I sat in the middle of the backseat, between Jen and Frank. I looked at Jen in hopes of finding someone to commiserate with but she didn’t fear the storm like I did. Instead of terror I found sheer delight displayed upon her face, a childish grin of wonder and awe. I remember her expressing excitement as one of the particularly large bolts of electricity lit up the sky with a brilliant flash. I turned to Frank and found emotion that more closely resembled mine. Perhaps he wasn’t terrified as I was but he was concerned. I think being older he was better able to recognize the real fear in Mother’s voice, the real concern she had displayed at driving in this weather. I clutched at Frank and held onto the side of his shirt, I was still sniffling with tears strolling down my cheeks. He turned to me as if assessing me briefly before he unbuckled my seatbelt and lifted me on to his lap. He held me there, his arms wrapped tightly around me. I immediately stopped crying, I felt safe at the time. In reality I was far worse off having removed my seatbelt but as a kid I didn’t understand those sorts of things. I didn’t realize how close I’d come to dying that night when my father narrowly dodged a vehicle that had drifted over the centre line and into the oncoming traffic lane. Perhaps it should have been me that died in a car accident.

  

THE CAB WAS MOVING SLOWLY. We’d worked our way onto the freeway only to find it moving at a snails pace. More time to think, I shudder, the last thing I need. Even the good memories are tainted with the horrible truth of what has happened today. Time, I think while pinching the bridge of my nose to once again remove the welling tears, time is what I need, said to heal all wounds.

  

IT WAS SPRING. I WAS walking home from High School. We lived close so it wasn’t a long walk. The school was ramping up preparations for Senior Prom. I wasn’t a social creature so my roll was minimal but one couldn’t help to be partially drawn into the excitement surrounding the event, after all it was my graduating year. I had a steady girlfriend for the first time in my life. We’d been dating for four months. I spent the bulk of my weekends with her and my best friend at the time Charles Skowski. Early in the day she’d broken up with me. Told me she’d fallen for Charles, that she was sorry. I was devastated at the time. It’s easy to look back now and see just how inconsequential my feelings were but at that moment I was heartbroken. I stumbled into the house, my brother was already home when I arrived. He had been taking courses at college and was supposed to finish up his business diploma at the end of the year. Dad loaned him the car to commute to college a generosity he never showed me when my turn came.

You look hang-dogged. What’s wrong champ?

Kelly broke up with me.

You’re kidding, right? I mean it’s just what, a week or two before Prom?

Yeah.

What a bitch!

I grimaced at his comment and looked away. Sure, I guess. I don’t know. After a pause I added that she’d started something up with Chuck.

Your best friend? You’ve gotta be kidding me?

I shrugged and shook my head. I wish I was. We sat beside each other in the family room in front of the powered down television. After awhile the silence became excruciating, I just needed to talk, to get things off my chest. You know I don’t know what hurts more. I didn’t make eye contact with my brother I could feel the tears at the back of my eyes beginning to well. I don’t know if it hurts more losing Kelly or the fact that I feel betrayed by my best friend. Frank handed me a tissue. I blew my nose.

Yeah that really sucks bro. He should have known not to go for your girl, it’s just not right, friends don’t do that. You know what though?

What?

Time heals all wounds.

I wasn’t so sure of his words then and I’m even less sure now. When Mother died I felt a deep numbing loss. I don’t believe it will ever completely leave me. I envy people that can truly put the bad parts of their past behind them, not dwell upon things. I fear I lack this ability, perhaps it’s just another way I’m weak.

Slowly creeping along the freeway we finally caught up to the source of the slowdown, a fender bender. People are standing outside their cars trying to assess the damage done to their vehicles, looks of concern and worry upon their faces. No one hurt, no one dead, they don’t know how lucky they are. Just a broken head lamp and a good scare, they should be smiling, ecstatic that their family doesn’t have to make the trip I am making now. I suppose considerations like that are all relative, yesterday if I was in their position I would have probably felt the same as they do. Things change fast.

I hadn’t seen my brother as much in the past four years. Ever since his argument with Jen things had been somehow different. I regret that lost time.

I’ve been busy. He told me while sipping his coffee in late summer.

I nodded. I never could understand why he drank coffee on hot summer days. I took another sip of my cold beer.

I’ve just had a lot on my mind. He gave me a half smile. He was miles away that day a half pained expression on his face as if he was shouldering the weight of the world. He didn’t give me a chance to pry. Too quickly he changed the subject of our conversation to that of my writing, my upcoming book release. That was back when I was excited about my work. I was too easily persuaded to change topics. I wonder now what was bothering him. I suppose it will remain an unknown, just one more conversation we will never have.

The cab pulled up to the hospital a sense of dread and trepidation washing over me. An ambulance its lights flashing red and white sat at the emergency entrance. There was no buzz of activity surrounding the vehicle, a signifier of pain, death and hope. I wanted to believe that the most recent occupant was alright, survived whatever ordeal they had just endured.

I handed the driver his fair before stepping out into the remnants of the rain. The storm drained of its power had been reduced to a light drizzle, it was barely noticeable. I moved around to the front of the building doing my best to dodge the enormous puddles that filled the uneven pavement of the parking lot. I noticed the glowing ember from the cigarette before I saw the silhouette of the person standing in front of the hospitals main entrance.

Jen? She’d stopped smoking years ago. The circumstances must have caused her to start again, just grasping on to anything that might bring her comfort.

John? She turned to me and quickly held me tightly in a hug. I could smell the smoke from her cigarette as it swirled close to my head. Oh thank God your here. She pulled away from me and inhaled a long deep drag of her smoke. She looked torn between two emotions, a broad smile displayed upon her face and yet her eyes were red and stained with tears.

I came as quick as I could. I lied.

She nodded. You look chubbier, have you been taking care of yourself?

I winced.

Never mind that, it’s so good to see you. It’s been what… seven months?

Nine. I corrected her. We’d seen less and less of each other since her and Frank’s argument. Somehow it affected us as well, as if the invisible ties that siblings share no longer applied.

Nine months. She looked sad and for a brief moment we stood in silence as she inhaled another long drag from her cigarette. I guess that will change. Her eyes met mine briefly before flickering away again. We’ll see a lot of each other now…. with the arrangements and all.

Yeah, you’re probably right. I wanted to say I’d missed her but somehow I couldn’t get the words out. Strange how hard it can be to say you miss and love a sibling. People you’ve known all your life, grown up with, the creation of intimacy without any emotional assurance. Perhaps that’s why things have been getting worse between us. No legitimate relationship, just memories, a shared past. This past year I didn’t see Jen on her birthday, I’d called but she was too busy at the time, told me she’d call me back but never did. I wonder if she hadn’t gotten together with Frank either, if she regretted that now.

Where’s Rachel? I asked.

She’s getting everyone coffee.

That’s nice of her.

Jen laughed. I think it was an excuse for her to get away. It’s pretty awkward in there. She paused and appeared as if she was choosing her words carefully. Dad and I had a fight.

In the hospital? I sounded surprised but I shouldn’t have been.

Yes. I thought of Father and what he must be going through right now, how he didn’t need the added stress of an argument. I was however certain that he had brought it upon himself.

What happened?

Well… I think just showing up played a pretty big role. I haven’t seen Dad in years you know. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. "He told me I don’t belong here… that I’m not his