The Things We Forgot To Return To
Country: Aurivelle
City: Auremont
Alvara
I found Leo in the sitting room.
Lying on the sofa.
Phone face down on his chest.
Looking at the ceiling with the particular expression of someone who had been thinking about something for a while and hadn't decided what to do with it yet.
"What's wrong with you?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said.
I sat in the armchair across from him.
He didn't move.
I waited.
He was quiet for a moment.
"Your birthday is in five days," I said.
He turned his head.
"I know," he said.
"What do you want?" I asked.
He sat up slowly.
Put his feet on the floor.
He looked at his hands.
Something in his posture was different from his usual energy.
Quiet and more careful
"Leo," I said.
"I want something," he said. "But I don't know how to ask for it."
I looked at him.
"Why not?" I asked.
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he looked at me.
"Because I don't want to hurt you and Mom," he said.
"Tell me," I said.
He exhaled.
"I want to go to Eldoria," he said.
I said nothing.
"To visit Dad," he added quietly.
Something moved through my chest.
Deep and old.
"We haven't been in so long," Leo said. "We've been so busy since we moved I just..." he stopped. "I realised I haven't been to his grave since before we left."
I held it.
"I miss him," Leo said.
His voice was quieter now.
The particular quiet of a twenty one year old who still had a nine year old somewhere inside him.
"I know that sounds..."
"It doesn't sound like anything bad," I said.
He looked at me.
"I didn't want to bring it up," he said. "Because I know it's hard for you and Mom. And the last few months have been so good. I didn't want to..." he paused. "I didn't want to bring something heavy into it."
I looked at my brother.
Who had been nine years old when our father died.
Who had grown up without him.
Who had carried things quietly for longer than he should have had to.
Who was twenty one years old and asking for the simplest and most painful birthday wish I could imagine.
"Leo," I said.
"I know it's a lot to ask," he said quickly. "If it's too much we don't have to..."
"We'll go," I said.
He was quiet.
"We'll go," I said again. "I'll talk to Mom."
He looked at me.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
I held his gaze.
"I forgot," I said quietly.
The words came out before I fully decided them.
But they were true.
We had been so consumed with everything that I had not visited my father's grave in over a year.
The man who had raised me until I was thirteen.
Who I had carried in my chest every day since.
Who I had never spoken about in any interview or article or industry conversation.
Who existed only in the private version of myself that the world didn't see.
I had forgotten.
Not him.
Never him.
But the act of going.
Of standing at his grave and saying "I'm still here. Look what we built."
I had forgotten to do that.
Leo looked at me.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"We've been busy," he said. Not as an excuse. As a fact that didn't entirely help.
"Yes," I said. "But that's not good enough."
He said nothing.
"I'll talk to Mom tonight," I said. "We'll go for your birthday."
"All of us?" he asked.
"All of us," I said.
He exhaled.
Something releasing.
"What about Isabella?" he asked.
"She's never been to Eldoria," I said. "I'll ask her if she wants to come."
"And..." he started.
He stopped.
I looked at him.
"Grayson has been to Eldoria," Leo said carefully. "For business. Several times."
I held his gaze.
"Are you asking me to invite him?" I asked.
"He's..." Leo paused. "He never knew Dad. But he knows us. And I think..." he stopped again. "I don't know. I just think Dad would have liked him."
I looked at my brother.
At the careful way he had said that.
At how much thought had gone into something he presented as casual.
"I'll ask him," I said.
Leo nodded.
Once.
Quick.
Then he looked at his phone.
Pretending the previous thirty seconds hadn't meant as much as they did.
"Okay," he said.
I stood and walked to him.
Stood in front of him for a moment.
He looked up.
I put my hand on top of his head briefly.
He swatted it away immediately.
"Don't do that," he said.
"Happy birthday in advance," I said.
He groaned.
I walked out.
And stood in the corridor for a moment.
My father.
His grave in Eldoria.
The last time I had been there I was still a nobody to the world.
Now I had things to tell him.
A lot of things.
I exhaled.
And went to find Mom.
My room was quiet when I finally came back to it.
Mom had cried.
Quietly.
The particular way she cried when something reached the part of her that was still the wife she had been before she became the mother she had to be alone.
But she nodded.
"Yes," she had said. "We should go."
And that was that.
Isabella was on her date with Sabestine.
Which I was not going to interrupt.
Grayson had left the country this morning,he said he would be back by tomorrow morning.
I sat on my bed.
Picked up my phone.
Opened the video call.
He answered quickly.
His face on the screen.
Inside a hotel room.
Jacket off.
"How was your day?" he asked.
" Fine"
"Leo wants to visit our father's grave," I said. "For his birthday."
Something shifted in his expression.
Immediately.
"In Eldoria," he said.
"Yes," I said.
"When?" he asked.
"His birthday is in five days," I said. "The tenth."
He was quiet for a moment.
"I'll come," he said.
"He said..." I paused. "He said he thinks our father would have liked you."
Something moved through Grayson's expression.
Deep and quiet.
He said nothing for a moment.
"I'll be there," he said.
Simply.
Without making it anything other than what it was.
A man saying yes to something that mattered.
I held the phone.
"Alvara," he said.
"Yes."
The tone shifted.
"There's something I need to tell you," he said.
I looked at him.
"It's about Eliora," he said.
I stilled.
The name landed the way it always landed.
Like something cold.
"What about her," I asked.
"She's been charged," he said.
I kept staring at him.
"Criminally," he said. "The case was reopened in October. I've been monitoring it through our media connections." He paused. "The charges were formally filed last week. Both counts grievous bodily harm and assault with intent."
I said nothing.
I could not immediately find words.
"A witness came forward," he said. "Mrs. Whitmore. She went to the authorities herself."
The housekeeper.
Who had trembled in Adrian's sitting room.
Who had been threatened into silence.
Who had looked at me with the particular expression of someone who knew something they were not going to say.
"She went herself?" I asked.
"Voluntarily," he said. "No one contacted her. She walked in and gave her statement."
I pressed my hand flat against the duvet.
"When?" I asked.
"November fourteenth," he said.
November fourteenth.
While I was in Paris.
While I was at the Grand Palais reception in a midnight navy gown.
While I was telling Isabella I loved him.
While everything good was happening .
Mrs. Whitmore had walked into a police station.
And said what she saw.
"Grayson," I said.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" I asked.
"Because I wanted to be certain before I brought it to you," he said. "I didn't want to give you something that might not materialise. I wanted to wait until the charges were filed and real." He paused. "I'm sorry it took this long."
I nodded slightly.
"When is the hearing?" I asked.
"February," he said.
February.
The same month as the third collection preview.
I looked out the window.
On a December night outside.
At the reflection of a woman who had been pushed down a staircase and survived.
Whose child had not.
"She's going to trial," I said.
"Yes," he said.
I exhaled.
Slowly.
"Good I can't wait to see the outcome," I said.
Quiet.
Certain.
He held my gaze through the screen.
Said nothing.
Because there was nothing to add to that.
Just held my gaze.
We sat with it for a moment.
"There's one more thing," he said.
I looked at him.
"Tomorrow," he said. "Sunday."
"Yes," I said.
"The Hawthornes have a monthly family dinner," he said. "My parents. Julian. The whole family." He paused. "I want to bring you."
I looked at him.
"Not professionally," he said. "Not as a designer. As mine "
I thought about Mrs. Hawthorne.
Who had believed in me before the showcase.
"Your mother already knows me," I said.
"She loves you," he said.
"Your father," I said.
"Will understand what it means that I'm bringing you," he said.
I held it.
"Julian?" I asked.
Something moved through his expression.
"Julian will behave," he said.
"That sounds uncertain," I said.
"Julian," he said, more firmly, "will behave."
I pressed my lips together.
"Alvara," he said.
"Yes."
"Will you come?" he asked.
I looked at him.
At this man.
Across whatever distance.
Entirely present anyway.
"Yes," I said.
Something settled in his expression.
"Sunday evening I will pick you up ," he said.
I looked at him.
"Goodnight, Grayson," I said.
"Goodnight, Starling," he said.
I ended the call.
Set the phone on the nightstand.
Lay back.
I looked at the ceiling.
Sunday.
The Hawthorne family dinner.
Leo's birthday is in five days.
Eldoria and my father.
And Eliora finally, properly, facing what she did.
February.
The same month as everything else.