A Better Son / Daughter

I parted ways with Nala in California. She found someone a few months after we got there, and the two of them fell madly in love really quickly. He never asked anything about her past and just loved her as the person she was. I couldn't stay with them forever, though.

The years passed I never really stayed in one place for long. Something about being out on the road, seeing new places, meeting new people was magical. I wasn't running from anything, just experiencing the world. As I never finished high school and did not have any real qualifications, work was not always easy to come by. There were many times I slept outside and roughed it. I did odd jobs here and there, saving just enough to get me to somewhere new. I can't say I always kept my hands clean, though. Sometimes I had to do certain things to earn some money. I never did anything where someone would get hurt, though. I never used again either that was one thing I said I would never do and stuck to it.

I had started writing at some point. A kind of mix between memoirs, personal musings and a travelogue. Honestly, I wasn't sure if it was something I would try and get published or if it was just a personal indulgence.

I kept track of my friends over the years. Michael spun that nervous energy and awkward comments into a stand-up comedy career. Sadly, I never got to see him live, but I caught parts of his act on YouTube and other social media sites. Carla became a teacher. I never got what led to that decision, but from comments I saw from her students over the years, she provided them the support they needed and inspired them. I wondered what became of Miss Holmes, I always had a soft spot for her. Lyndsay became this big tech magnate, but from what I read of his company, they at least attempted to be ethical and give to charities, well, I want to believe that at least. Kat started a band. I managed to catch them at least once, and they were really good. I could have tried to speak to her at least, but ten years had passed I wasn't even sure she would remember me.

At a certain point I stopped keeping track of them. They had their own lives and had grown beyond me. I was happy for all of them that was what mattered. At one point, when I was back in America, I decided out of curiosity to check out my sister's account on a social media site. I had thought many times of getting in touch with Heather, but something always stopped me. I read a post about a christening, and it was in the next few weeks. So much time had passed how had I missed that my sister had gotten married?

Enough time had passed that I wanted to see familiar faces again and confront my past. I had not been home in a very long time and felt it was time that I did. I had one other stop to make first to check in on an old friend. I found the farm that belonged to Nala and her partner. I started walking down the drive when a young man, maybe fifteen, saw me and approached me. He looked like he was of Indian descent.

“You know this is private property?” He told me.

“I was trying to look up an old friend; she lived here once,” I explained.

“What was her name?” He asked.

“Nala,” I answered.

He smiled in recognition at the name.

“You mean Mom.”

“Can I see her? I'm an old friend.”

There was a look of sadness on his face before he replied again.

“She passed last year. Liver failure.”

“I'm really sorry to hear that. She was a good friend. We travelled together for some time.”

There was a glimmer of realisation on his face.

“You're the guy she came out here with, aren't you?”

“Yeah.”

“She was surrounded by family when she left us. Her uncle tracked her down a few years ago as well. Her parents eventually forgave her and were glad to know she was happy. I've even been out there to visit my family in Calcutta.”

“That's really great. I'm glad she found peace and someone who loved her.”

He invited me to have a meal with them and spend the night. I got to meet Nala's other children as well. She had two boys and a girl. I was amused to discover she had named her second child after me, it was an honour I would try and live up to. I left them the next day to head back to my home town. The Christening was in a few days.

I visited Rebecca and Trish's graves first to pay my respects. The church it was being held in was a few blocks from my parents' old house. Our family was never hugely religious, but it was reassuring in a way that Heather and her husband were having them baptised. When I got there, it was already in progress. I had hoped to sneak in unannounced and then speak to Heather afterwards. As soon as I opened the door, she turned to see who the late arrival was. The look on her face was a mixture of happiness and anger. I could hardly blame her. My parents were there as well sat at the front, and saw a small girl sitting next to them. I watched from the back, not wanting to further disrupt things.

She cornered me after and just hugged me. She gave me her address, and I knew I was not getting away without a larger reunion. I turned up later and was not really surprised at my sister's greeting.

“You absolute fucking asshole,” Heather told me.

I got dragged into her living room and had a very long conversation with my parents. They never judged, they were hurt by my decision to leave, but in the end they realised it was what I had needed. I didn't know if I was back or if this was just a short stay.

“Do you want to meet your eldest niece?” My sister asked me.

“I would love to meet both of them,” I replied.

She dragged her eldest into the room.

“Meet Patricia,” Heather said, introducing me.

“Hi, Patricia.” I greeted her.

“Now your uncle is going to explain why he has missed your last ten birthdays and how he is going to make it up to you,” Heather told her.

She had softened over the years, but the sister I had known twenty years ago was still there. I met her husband who was really sweet and loving. He owned an antiques restoration business downtown, and Heather had become a therapist. I never asked if that was over losing Trish, but I felt that had influenced it.

The reunion with my family was bittersweet, but we spent all evening drinking and catching up. I asked what they knew about my friends over the years, and their stories were heartwarming. After a while, and perhaps because I was slightly drunk, I eventually worked up the courage to show them the manuscript of the book I had been working on. It was still very much a rough draft, but I liked the title, The Choices I Made.