Sparks Reignited

35 | Old Home

Aunt Abbie sits in the driver's seat and grips the wheel tightly. I notice the way she glances in my direction, her eyebrows knot into a worried frown. Ever since I told her that my memories are slowly returning, she's stuck between excitement and concern. She's afraid that I might not handle the influx of memories, especially of what had occurred during the accident.

"You sure you're ready for this, Riley?"

I nod in determination. "I want to do this."

Her gaze glides back to the front, her lips pressed firmly together. The red traffic light switches to green and her foot pushes the pedal to get the car moving. "Alright, but promise me you'll let me know if it becomes too overwhelming for you?"

"Of course."

She takes us through Central Plaza and we go all the way to the other side of the town where I used to live once. Glancing out of the window, trees whizz by us and the low hum of the running engine lulls me deep into a world of my own. What does my old house look like now? Will I find more memories there? Will there be more clues to the reason behind us leaving Lakeshore?

My phone buzzes in my jeans pocket, and I pull it out to read the text. It's from Kyle.

Kyle: 😭

Me:❓

Kyle: Save me. I'm about to be toasted by a bunch of old ladies.

Me: Aw.
Must be tough being Mr. Popular.

Kyle: I didn't ask for it.

Now they're telling me to meet their granddaughters. Wth?!

Me: No cheating pls. 👀

I laugh to myself quietly. Poor him. Today, he's helping his mother. There's a free flower arrangement class every Saturday afternoon for the elderly at the nearby nursing home. I can imagine him being forced to be a good boy by helping the folks out. And with that face of his, he'll no doubt be popular among the grandmothers.

Kyle: That's it. I'm bailing.

Me: You sure about that?

Kyle: ... Mom says she'll lock me out of the house.

I type back a quick Good luck and add an emoticon with its tongue sticking out playfully before keeping my phone away. Aunt Abbie has just driven the car into the driveway of the house.

At first glance, I'm surprised by the vast changes that are done to the house. First off, the colors on the walls are different. What used to be a warm shade of yellow has been repainted to a dark blue color. The front porch looks different now because Mom's favorite flower bed is gone and replaced with a small garden fountain and rows of flowerpots. Overall, they remodeled the entire house to one of those modern, sleek designs you see in IKEA's magazines.

The owners—a young, friend-looking couple in their early thirties—come out of the house and my aunt goes up to them to exchange a few words. Before this, she has already contacted them since we're dropping by for a short while. They offer her a warm smile before their eyes sweep past her to meet mine with a look of understanding. I return a polite smile and linger on the lawn, casually walking from one end to the other to observe the place.

Something twists in my heart. Sadness. Disappointment. The decor is so new that it hurts that I can't see traces of my old home. I've lost it. There's no sense of belonging here anymore. It's all in the past.