* * *
Baltimore hasn’t changed much, and neither has the house.
I stand in front of the imposing house, with its reddish brown, white, and gray façade, and I sigh.
No one’s here to greet me just as there was no one at the airport to pick me up.
That’s fine. After all, everyone must be busy with the funeral or tired from it.
As I go all the way around to the back of the house after leaving my suitcase on the front steps, I see clumps of used tissue here and there, probably blown by the wind from the pile of trash or carelessly tossed away by a guest. I see a discarded funeral card, too, and I pick it up, staring at the picture of my father on it, a picture of my father in his golf outfit on a golf course in Scotland, laughing. I’ve seen it before. It’s one of my favorite pictures of him. No doubt Mom felt the same.
At the back, I see the empty chairs where the guests must have sat, the wreaths of white flowers hanging from makeshift columns and the long tables with leftover food. It seems I missed the funeral reception by only minutes.
As the maids scramble about, cleaning up the mess, I approach one of the long tables, removing the lid off one of the trays.
Ah, lamb goulash. Dad’s favorite. I pick up the spoon and try some.
Dad would have loved it.
I get the bottle of wine as well, pouring myself a glass and raising it.
“Cheers, Dad.”
“Dash?”
I finish the contents of the glass, setting it down on the table before turning around to find myself face to face with a tall woman in her fifties. She wears sunglasses and an elegant black dress.
“Mom.”
She takes off her sunglasses to reveal eyes sore from crying. “Oh, Dash.”
She runs over to me, hugging me tightly, saying nothing more. No words are needed. I can feel it all in her embrace: how much she missed me, how relieved she is that I’ve come home safely, how she wishes I’d come home sooner and seen Dad one last time, how lonely she is now that Dad’s gone, and how less lonely she feels now that I’m finally here. I put my arms around her as well. “I’m sorry I missed
Dad’s funeral.”
Mom pulls away, shaking her head as she dries a tear. “It’s alright.”
But she isn’t alright. She looks older, much older than I last remember, and something tells me she aged much more in the past few days than she has in the past twelve years. She’s still beautiful but she’s thinner, paler. She looks frail. Exhausted. I’m the one who’s coming home from a war zone, but she looks like she’s just been through World War III.
“I should have come sooner,” I tell her. “I should have come to see him before he… while he was still alive.”
“He would have been happy to see you.” “Would he?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer that. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.” She strokes my cheeks. “What matters is that you’re home. And for good, I hope.”
“I’m not going off to war anymore, if that’s what you’re asking,” I tell her.
“Good.” She smiles. “Because you’re needed here.” “Is he?” a familiar voice interjects.
I turn around to see Billy coming out of the house in an impeccably tailored suit, glass of wine in hand. He, on the other hand, doesn’t look like he’s changed at all. His nose is still mousy and his chin is still weak, two features I expected to grow as he aged. Still the same neatly combed chestnut hair. Still that average build, just a few pounds short of stocky. Still that same bitter look in his brown eyes.
“Hello, Billy,” I greet. “How have you been?”
“Better than you,” he answers, the bitterness also in his voice. “What are you doing here? I thought Dad told you not to come back alive.”
“Billy,” Mom scolds. “Dash is your brother.”
“Really? I seem to recall Dad saying I’m his only son.” “We all know why he said that,” Mom says. “He didn’t mean it. Besides, now that your father’s gone, we’re all that’s left of this family.”
“Ah. So because Dad’s gone, Dash is forgiven?” Billy asks.
Mom frowns.
I step forward. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused you, Billy. That was not my intention. I believe I made that clear before I left.”
“Your leaving made it clear you didn’t give a damn about anyone in this family,” Billy says.
“Billy,” Mom scolds again. “Stop it. The past is in the past. Dash is here now. He’s back.”
“So, what? Are you going to hand him the company now?” Billy asks.
“I don’t intend to take over the family company,” I assure.
“But you want a piece of it?” Billy shakes his head. “Well, you won’t get any. Dad’s made sure of that.”
“Now, now, Billy,” Mom says. “We don’t know what Dash’s plans are now that he’s home. And we’re not sure about anything your Dad left.” She turns to me. “That’s why we’re meeting with the lawyer this evening. You remember Walter, don’t you? He’ll be reading your father’s last will and testament.”
I give her a puzzled look. “He is?”
“You look so surprised,” Billy says. “Isn’t that why you came home?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “That’s not why I came home, and you know it.”
Billy shrugs. “The truth is I don’t know you anymore. My brother died twelve years ago.”
“That’s enough,” Mom says then turns to me. “Dash, why don’t you go inside? The lawyer will be here at six. I’m sure you’ll want to rest before then.”
“Why should he even come?” Billy says. “He’s not in Dad’s will and you know it.”
“Billy…”
“You’re right, Mom. I’ll go inside and rest.” I give her a kiss on the cheek and walk towards the house, pausing in front of Billy and giving him a pat on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you again, Billy.” I lean over. “Please don’t make things harder for Mom.”
He snorts. “You’re the one who’s been doing that.”
I don’t retort. Instead, I make my way into the house.
“Do you still think Dad left you something after all you’ve done?” he calls out.
Again, I don’t mind. I don’t know what I think. At any rate, it doesn’t matter. I’ll find out tonight.