Chapter 25
Eris
Knowing someone isn't coming back
doesn't mean you ever stop waiting.
― Toby Barlow
The sounds around her came muffled to her ears, barely discernible.
They were both staring at her―Denny and the man she had just called Mikey.
The man who couldn’t be Mikey.
Because Mikey was gone.
He’d been gone for fifteen years.
She’d made peace with it.
But the stranger was looking at her with those eyes and the grief-riddled joy she saw in them was too raw to be a lie. Even without it, there wasn’t any room for doubt: the crooked nose, the thin upper lip, the deep scar in his chin…
She remembered the day he’d come home with blood-soaked clothes and his own shirt pressed to his face, brimming with adrenaline.
Mum’s yelling. Dad’s grunt, almost prideful.
Seven stitches at the hospital for an injury filed away as ‘bike accident’.
Eris, only seven years old at the time, had never found out the truth about it but, much later, becoming more aware of the kind of company Micah frequented, she had developed a few theories.
All these years, she had lived with the resigned conviction that her brother had been killed in some filthy alley and she would never know.
Only a tragedy like that could’ve explained his disappearance.
And now he was standing in front of her, alive and well, looking like a businessman from the Square Mile.
“Eris.” His voice… His voice was so different.
Still young, but more like a man’s than a boy’s.
He took a tentative step forward. Eris retreated.
She forced herself to swallow, but the pain stuck in her throat like a cluster of needles didn’t go away.
He tried to reach out for her, eyes glossy with emotion, but she retreated again.
Micah’s expression fell. “You don’t remember me?”
Of course Eris remembered.
Her whole being, every fibre of it, remembered.
The one person she’d ever loved.
The one person who’d loved her.
Where have you been? How did you find me? Why now, after all this time?
The box slipped out of Eris’ hand. The ground beneath her feet felt like it might give in at any moment. Her gaze flitted to Denny, seeking an anchor to cling to. Pale and in visible shock, Denny came forward to place a hand on Micah’s arm.
“Give her a moment.”
Though reluctantly, Micah stepped back, allowing Denny to check on Eris.
“What do you need?”
Eris couldn’t answer. Even if she’d known what she needed, she couldn’t have articulated it.
Muddled thoughts swirled in her swimming head, a jumble of memories and sensations sucking her into a disorienting abyss.
A wave of nausea shook her balance. Staggering backwards, she hit the cut flowers display with the back of her legs.
She doubled over, overcome by sickness. Out of nowhere, a pot materialised under her mouth to catch the lump of bile she coughed up.
Far, far away, Denny whispered gently: “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
The bitterness was unbearable. Tears welled up in Eris’ eyes as empty gags tore at her stomach. A soothing caress on her back comforted her through it. When it was over, Denny helped her ease down to the floor.
“Lock the door,” she ordered then, her attention all on Eris, who curled up in a corner, waiting for her world to stop spinning.
A crisp clack announced the door had been locked. Micah stood by it, a blurry presence at the periphery of Eris’ vision.
“Don’t move,” said Denny, pressing the pot between Eris’ hands. “I’ll be right back.”
She rushed to the counter. Eris heard the creaking of tape being pulled and ripped. Moments later Denny was hanging a sheet on the door and turning the lights off.
“Closed for family emergency,” she announced. Eris squinted her into focus: hands on her hips, bright pink cheeks. She was calm and resolute when she turned to Micah. “If you’re going to be sick, too, help yourself to a pot.”
“I’m good.”
Eris didn’t know how she found it in herself to laugh. The fading nausea left a bonelessness in its wake that made her feel like she was in a hybrid state between drunkenness and lucid dreaming, uncomfortably conscious of the two sets of eyes weighing on her from afar.
Every time she looked at Micah, flashes of memories of their father shouting blared in her head.
The old house that smelled like mould. Micah’s strange cocktail of metal and classical music playing at the lowest volume to calm her without bothering Dad.
Mum’s indifference. She’d never seen the real ugliness of that place until she’d lost Micah.
Ghosts of unshed tears pushed at the back of her throat. She didn’t feel them in her eyes.
Someone banged on the door with an umbrella.
The rattling of the glass caused Eris to wince in pain.
She covered her ears at the noise getting louder.
Denny rushed to the door to reiterate what the note she’d stuck to it already stated, but an old lady yapped back, informing her quite vehemently that she wouldn’t leave without her flowers.
In reply, Denny grabbed a random bouquet and thrusted it into the intruder’s hands right before shutting the door on her face.
“We should probably take this upstairs.”
Only then did Micah seem to fully register her presence. “Oh, sorry. I’m Micah, Eris’―”
“Brother,” Denny finished for him, but backtracked right after. “Sorry, that was rude.”
“Not at all.”
“I’m Denny.” She shook his hand, a bit guarded for her standards. “I’m Eris’ girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend,” he repeated like it was something wondrous. “I did think as much.”
“Oh? Based on what?”
“Ah…” Micah sheepishly ducked his head. In spite of everything, Eris smirked on the inside. The hardened boy she used to know would’ve never. “We’re going to need a cuppa.”
* * *
Eris had never noticed before how steep and narrow the staircase leading upstairs was.
Relief flooded her as soon as the door of the flat closed behind them.
The scents comforted her―the cinnamon and clove candles Denny had scattered everywhere, the green of the plants, the dusty smell of the carpet at the entrance…
It took the edge off her disorientation and gave her an anchor of familiarity to latch on to.
Denny was talking to Micah, but Eris couldn’t hear what they were saying. She was having a hard time reconciling Denny and Micah existing in the same space at the same time.
The living room called to her. She was eager to crawl under the heavy quilt and curl up in a corner.
Micah reached out for her when he saw her lurch away.
“Eris...”
Denny stopped him. “It’s alright. She just needs time. Let’s put on that tea, shall we?”
Eris burrowed in the nook between the large window and the bookshelf. The quilt was imbued with Denny’s scent. Eris closed her eyes and let her head lol back to the wall.
Mikey was back from the dead.
Mikey―her Mikey.
How many sleepless nights had she spent wondering what had happened to him, if she’d ever see him again?
Now he was here and all the uncomfortable questions she’d always avoided were clawing their way out of the dark recesses where she’d relegated them.
“Hey.”
Denny padded in to kneel in front of her, the stack of flashcards in her hands.
“I left Micah in charge of the tea. He’s a nice guy, but I fear he’ll be running out of compliments for the flat at this rate.” Eris stared vacantly. Denny smiled. “He doesn’t want to talk about you without you there.”
Eris wouldn’t have minded either way. She was a stranger to her own brother, but Denny knew her better than she knew herself: she could speak on Eris’ behalf, if necessary.
“Do you want to do this right now? I can tell him to come back tomorrow or―”
Eris shook her head. She wanted to talk to Mikey. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and find that old sense of solace and home again. The mere idea of watching him walk away now that she’d found him was unbearable.
Denny flipped through the cards, plucking three out: the ‘love and cuddles’ one, ‘alone time’ one with the wolf on the mountaintop, the ‘I need space’ card with the crows perched far apart on a powerline. Eris tapped the third. She would be fine in a minute. A bit more, perhaps. But she’d be fine.
She grabbed Denny’s wrist. Please, don’t let him leave.
A reassuring caress stroked her hand. “We’ll sit on the couch, is that good?”
Another nod.
“Right. I’ll bring you some ginger tea.”
Eris made a face.
“It’s good for your upset stomach, you’re going to shut up and drink it!”
Eris’ lips twitched upward. I can’t possibly shut up any more than this.
“Oh my god, stop!” Denny’s laugh, too, was coloured with mirth.
She gave Eris the cards before leaving. Eris stared at them, a stack of illustrated phrases and actions.
She still couldn’t believe that Denny had troubled herself with buying these cards when they were still strangers to each other. It felt like years had passed.
Denny’s and Micah’s voices floated to her from the kitchen.
For a moment she was ten-year-old Eris looking at the future: a nice home, an angel for a girlfriend, her beloved brother nearby.
Somewhere in a dark room in her memory, an angry teenager with wet black streaks staining her cheeks lifted her head up from her knees and snipped: ‘I don’t believe you. ’
Adult Eris couldn’t blame her.
Denny and Micah came in. She had a plate of biscuits, he carried a tray with the tea and the cups.
Eris’ eyes crinkled meeting Denny’s across the room. Smart move, Sunshine.
“Don’t even go there!” Denny huffed.
Micah set the tray on the coffee table, blinking at her. “What?”
“Your sister is making fun of my clumsiness.”
Sister.
Eris hadn’t been someone’s sister for so long that the word sounded alien.
Micah glanced her way, a small smile warming his expression. “Is that right?”
“Her face can be more communicative than words.”
Denny brought Eris a steamy cup and a few digestives piled on a saucer. Eris pushed the latter back, but Denny didn’t bulge.
“We skipped breakfast, c’mon.”