“I must be nuts,” Ellen whispered under her breath as the plane’s wheels touched down on the tarmac. The passenger sitting next to her jolted awake at the second bounce, finally ceasing the snoring that had grated on her nerves for the last forty minutes of the flight.
Sighing, she waited until the plane taxied to a stop before undoing her seatbelt and grabbing her overnight bag from the overhead compartment. She wouldn’t be staying for long. There was a reason she had left the village in which she had grown up. Like everyone else with any sense, she’d gotten the hell out as soon as she’d been old enough.
She’d sworn she’d never come back. What for? Her father had been an abusive prick misogynist who hated Ellen for not being a boy. Her mother had died standing between her eight-year-old daughter and her husband. He’d gone to jail and Marion had gone six feet under. Ellen had gone into therapy.
Her maternal grandparents had done their best to give Ellen and her brother Ray a decent life. It had been better than ending up in foster care, anyway. Ellen had studied hard and received a full ride to Harvard, graduating with honors from law school. It had been her ticket out of the tiny seaside village. Ray had stayed to take care of their grandparents, taking over the family hardware store.
Ellen had returned home a few times while Gran and Gramps were still alive, but the village and its memories clawed at her. Now she only saw Ray when he came to visit her in Washington. Which wasn’t often. He truly was a small-town boy; cities made him nervous.
Despite her promise to herself never to come back, here she was. Ray had begged her. Pleaded over the phone. “I can’t do this alone,” he had said. And she had taken the next available flight.
She’d asked him not to pick her up. She needed time to take in the village—to adjust to being back and to the reason for being here before she saw him. He didn’t need to see just how hard this was for her. She was back for him—and only for him.
As she walked up the laneway toward their grandparents’ old house, she looked out across the property’s edge to the ocean beyond. The water was calm today. She had forgotten how soothing it could be. She walked past the house and down to the beach, taking it all in, giving herself one last moment before entering and facing Ray and the reason he had begged her to come.
As she stepped into the house, Ray called out from the kitchen. “Coffee’s on.” He knew her well. Even though they lived far apart and rarely saw each other in person, they faithfully Zoomed every Sunday morning, sharing coffee and their week. She didn’t miss the strain in his voice.
Dropping her bag on the sofa, she padded into the kitchen, memories of Gran sitting at the table with her tea and newspaper flooding in. This house had been safe. Nothing of her father had ever intruded here. Until today.
Ray set two mugs on the table, visibly trying to summon a smile for his sister, but the pain in his eyes spoke much more loudly. “It’s finally over.”
Ellen shook her head. “It will never be over. Not really. But at least he’s finally dead. Why he should have lived a full life while Mom…”
Ray stepped closer and Ellen wrapped her arms around him. They stood, hugging one another for a long time before letting go. Ellen’s legs felt weak, so she dropped into a chair and picked up her coffee, taking in its welcome aroma. It grounded her, like the ocean did. Like nothing else in this backward village could. Except her brother. Thank God for Ray.
“What time?” she asked.
“The funeral is at one-thirty. No one but us is likely to show up.”
“Maybe a few will come just to make sure he’s really dead.” Ellen’s laugh was bitter. Her father had been universally hated in the village. So many of his generation were gone now, but there’d still be some who remembered.
“Maybe. I’m sorry I made you come home. I just need this…”
“I get it,” Ellen said. “Honestly, it’s closure. I need it too.” She glanced at the clock. “We’ve got a few hours yet. Is Allie’s still around?
Ray laughed at the mention of the village’s local meeting place. It served simple food and great ice cream. “Sure is. Let’s grab an early lunch and dessert.”
Leaving their untouched coffee on the table, the siblings left the house without locking the door. No need here. Ellen breathed in the ocean as they walked along the ocean’s edge toward the center of town. Somehow, just knowing they would bury their father today made her feel safe. The village and its simple life seemed more inviting. Maybe, just maybe, Ray would see a little more of her after this.
I wrote this story based on a three-word prompt: nuts, hell, and village. I knew up front that I wanted to write about someone coming home after vowing to never do so again. I wasn’t sure what her reason would be until I started typing.
Wow!! What a great story, Dascha. Many homecomings can be painful, many reasons why. You captured the essence of the pain that not even the beauty or the love of family could erase.
Great beginning of closure ~ healing and a beginning of a new era for Ellen and Ray. Sounds like a novel, not a short story. Enticing picture.