ryan

I was sitting by the television when mum offered me some of her cupcakes. I frowned at the sight. A hopeful expression that lay on my mother's face disappeared when I refused to taste one.

"Why did you stop eating them, Ryan? They used to make you so happy," she asked.

"You know why I stopped, mum. They used  to make me happy. Not anymore."

"Maybe they will again? How will you know if you don't try?" 

"I know because he  didn't make them. It's different now, mum. Maybe these cupcakes remind you of the good old days. But to me? To me, they remind me of everything I've lost. They remind me that he  isn't here anymore."

It had to be said. Mum has been baking a lot recently and I've seen that it makes her happy. I'm glad it does. I also appreciate her efforts of trying to bring back those good memories but, I can't. I can't pretend to be happy and continue to eat all the things he  used to make in the past.

Everyone had their ways of dealing with problems. I dealt with mine by ignoring them, trying my hardest to not think of them. 

My mum on the other hand, she liked to pretend that her problems didn't exist. She lived life while pretending that everything was normal and nothing had changed.  

But things did change. They changed when we got that call from the hospital. They changed when I saw my mum cry for the first time that night. They changed when we saw the broken car and limp bodies. Things changed when we lost our family. 

Things changed when I lost my brother and father. 

And why did we lose them? Because some drunkard thought it was a nice idea to be driving on the road after getting wasted. Anger still creeps into my veins when I think of him. I would have killed him myself if he hadn't died that night with my family.

They say that death is what gives meaning to life. To me, death is what took all meaning away from life.

"Ryan, they are not here anymore. But we are. You are here, Ry. You've got your entire life ahead of you. You can't keep denying yourself some happiness," she said, taking a seat beside me on the couch.

"He was the one with big dreams, ma." I said, referring to my brother. "Hell, he even got into the best pastry school in California. I shouldn't have asked him to come meet us that night. It's all my fault," I told her. 

It was the first time we were talking about this. After their death, my mother had to manage all the finances, medical reports and paperwork. She did not have time to mourn their loss. She had to put up a strong face. If not for anyone else, for me. We never talked about their death because it was so hard to be strong while remembering everything we lost.

"Ryan, none of this is your fault. I don't want you to be blaming yourself for this. I didn't realise that the cupcakes would trigger your bad memories. I just thought that we could sit together around a table filled with pastries like back in the good ol' days."

"It's fine, mom. I just can't get myself to enjoy cupcakes anymore. I'm sorry. You did a great job though. They look exactly like his ones," I told her with a smile.

"They do, don't they?" she said with a small shiver in her voice. I put the plate aside and wrapped my arms around her as she started crying. "I wish they were here, Ryan. But, I'm glad to at least have you," she said after a few moments, with tear-filled eyes.

I could not give her a reply, so simply tightened our hug. As time passed, she fell asleep in my arms. Since I had no intentions of waking her up, I laid her down on the couch and placed a blanket over her so that she could be warm through the night. Turning the TV off, I walked around the house in search of my phone. 

We moved into this place a couple months ago. Mum had started getting nightmares in our old one; the kind where she was the one who drove the truck into my dad's car. I even found her waiting by the porch for my dad to come home from work. Then, when she remembered that he was never going to come back, she broke down.

Our therapist suggested that we move out of the house in order to stop falling into old behaviour and prevent getting upset when we spotted familiar things.

This house that we're living in — it wasn't home. Home was where me and my brother grew up. It was where my parents watched 90s rom-coms. It was where I had nothing but happy memories. 

My home ceased to exist the night I experienced the greatest loss of all - death. 

I found my phone in the study beside an unfamiliar object — Isa's notebook. I flipped through the pages and laughed upon seeing a drawing of Hitler. I quickly took a picture of it and sent it to her.

_
is a bell 🔔

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You left your book at mine

omg why were you going through it???

Curiosity.
Also I wanted to confirm if it was yours

it is 

I didn't know that you were artistic

oh, shut up. i was bored

You're nicer in person.
I can't imagine you
saying shut up to anyone.

sorry.
could u get the book to
school on monday?

Sure, no problem

_

'If Isa liked being in this place, she would have loved being at my home,' I found myself thinking.

~⨯~