“No, no. Please, I actually have to talk this out.”
“That memory about your dad still irking you?”
“It’s about you.” I let out a breath. “You were mad at me. I didn’t put as much thought into that as I should have.”
“Oh, Anna—”
“No, Clay. I’ve been thinking a lot about it. I’ve been preaching about how I always felt that I was an afterthought on Mom’s great journey…but Clay. I left you here. I left you here alone for so long.” My eyes welled up as I said aloud what I had been thinking for weeks. “A part of me always assumed you would move on from here—go somewhere else. I should have taken you with us. I know it would have been hard and weird, but I promised you when I was a kid that I would always take care of you. And I didn’t.”
I could see him left out a breath. He moved past me, sliding on the ice with his back turned.
“That was a hard time,” he began. “I stayed up most nights looking down the driveway, wondering when you’d be back.” A replica driveway appeared out of the darkness in the direction Clay was looking off to. “I didn’t have much human interaction. Most of the time I spent reliving your journal entries, and eventually I went through your grandfather’s. I feel like I lived a part of his life as well as yours.” He turned back to me and made eye contact. “After a while, I just assumed you had moved on. Thought that you weren’t ever going to come back.”
“I know, and I feel so guilty because of it,” I began. “I mean, I resent Mom for taking me away from everything I love. But I did so much worse to you. I left you here. By yourself. We’ve been avoiding this conversation, but why don’t you resent me the same way?”
Clay let out a breath. “I did resent you,” he said. “For a long time. I went back to relive the memories we shared over and over and over, hoping one day we would reunite. But that day didn’t come. I grew older and got used to a world that was never meant for me.” He looked down. “I’m not like you, Anna. I can’t go to school, I can’t meet new friends, I can’t go shopping. I’m stuck here, in this dark place of reliving nostalgic parts of my short life.” Clay looked me dead in the eye and said, “To call me an outsider is an understatement.”
“Then why are you giving me a second chance?” I asked, sliding on the ice. I know I begged him for one, but that didn’t mean I deserved it. I needed to hear it from him.
Clay closed his eyes, and I knew there was hurt inside him. There was a knot he was having trouble unravelling; a truth he wanted to speak. I was ready. If he wanted to tell me to screw off for the rest of eternity, I would understand.
“That night when I left, and said I couldn’t be your best friend right now,” Clay let out. “I knew I couldn’t navigate through that pain, I couldn’t let it flow through me.”
“Why?”
“Because I owe it to myself to hold space for something other than pain,” he whispered. “Was that the answer you were looking for?”
That wasn’t what I expected, but it sent a wave of empathy through my heart. I wished I could be more like that. Like him.
“I…uh…I’m sorry, Clay.”
“I know.” He looked at me. “I know.”
We let silence fill the air between us. There were still so many thoughts and feelings I had, but didn’t know how to bring up. I eventually asked, “So, my grandparents never seen you?” it felt silly to ask him that again, but I wanted to know for sure.
“No. At least I don’t think,” he replied. “I watched over them, like I knew you’d want me to. When your Nan began losing her memory, I picked up on it quick. She kept going to go the grocery store to buy eggs.” Clay lifted his hand and a circular portal appeared. I could see the fridge. Grampy opened it to reveal what looked like a dozen cartons of eggs. Concern lined his face instantly.
“That’s how it began. When Rudy came home after a weekend away at an English teacher’s conference.” Clay swiped his hand and the portal disappeared. “Over time it got worse,” he continued. “It got pretty bad a year later on their anniversary.”
Clay moved his hand to form another portal.
“Grampy wrote about this?”
“No. But somewhere within the ten years I learned how to keep track on my own. I got stronger, learned more about this all while I was alone.”
Inside the portal I could see Grampy holding a small box wrapped up with a bow. He handed it to my grandmother, his face tense. Nan opened the box—inside was picture frame with a photo of the four of us, Grampy, Nan, Mom, and me, standing in front of the house. Nan had a warm smile as she observed the photo. Then she asked, “Who’s this little girl?”
My heart sank to my stomach; I was the first person she forgot. Now I knew why Mom never wanted me to call her. I began getting teary-eyed as the colour in Grampy’s face evaporated.
“Tanya, quit playin’,” he said instantly.
“What are you talking about?” Nan frowned, looking back up to Grampy.
“Tanya, that’s our granddaughter. Annaka.”
“Annaka? But she isn’t our granddaughter. I thought you didn’t like to talk about her.” Nan’s eyes were clearly confused, as she looked back up at my grandfather.
That confusion made its way towards me. What did she mean?
“No, I don’t mean her.” Grampy breathed heavily, when he reached up to wipe the sweat from his forehead, I saw his hands were shaking.
“It’s been a while since she left,” Nan observed. “Do you still think about her?”
“Clay, who is she talking about?” I asked.
“No idea.” Clay
