I still own nothing…
Sixty-four years later… (It's nearly Christmas, about three weeks before)
I was happy. Sort of.
Don't get me wrong. I love my brothers. And my new father. But I still loved him. I knew I always would. But I was to the point where I could talk about him, about them, and not have to struggle to keep myself together. I knew Matt, Bry, and Peter were curious. But for fifty-odd years, I couldn't mention them, and broke down when I saw or heard something that reminded me of them.
Then, slowly, it changed. Ten years later, I could finally truly breathe. I owe it all to them, my brothers, and my father. I loved them so much. They almost filled the gap in my heart.
* * *
Now, on this day, I whirled around. I set up decorations, I vacuumed, ran a few loads of laundry, picked up the floors. I was almost dancing as I did my chores. I played an old Christmas carol C.D. in preparation for the coming holiday. I always tried to be extra-cheery around this holiday. It still was hard to think of him after all this time. But it was extra hard from September thirteenth to the New Year. I don't know how I didn't drive my family crazy. I heard Bryan enter the room, singing along to the music to a fault. That stupid gift of his. He knew he could wreak havoc around the house with it, and he did. I was always chastising him. I laughed softly to myself as I realized that I sounded like a mother. My thoughts were interrupted by Bryan's voice.
"Bellsy," he whined, trying not to laugh, "Let's go! We wanna get out to the track!"
"Well, then, help!" I laughed. Realized hell would most likely freeze over before I could get Bryan to settle down enough to help me, I sped up even more.
"I'm almost done. I need another second."
Bryan looked pointedly at his watch. "Second's up! Let's go!" He grabbed my wrist. I flicked it out his grasp, and then pulled it, twisting up behind his back, where I pulled slightly as I jumped to keep him covered.
"Alright, alright." He grumbled. "Just hurry it up a little."
I chuckled, patted his hair, knowing he hated it, and then sent him out of the room.
In truth, I wished I could move faster myself. I wanted to get to the track to get my bike running again. It'd been too long- a whole week- since I had ridden it at the track. I was dying to get back out there. I finished quickly, then ran to Peter's study. When I got there, he was reading a novel by Proust, and when I glanced at the title, I realized what it was and rolled my eyes comically. À la Recherche du temps Perdu, or In Search of Lost Time. He was flipping through the pages far too quickly to be comprensible. He did no realize I was in the room.
"Literal or Translation?" I asked, breaking his concentration. He jumped, and looked up, smiling.
"Literal. Time for me to bring out my dusty French." His Irish accent was almost inaudible. No human would be able to pick it up.
"It can hardly be considered dusty if you can read that." I countered.
He only smiled.
"We're going out to the track. I was going to ask if you were coming, or if you would like something other than Christmas music put it."
"Ahh. I believe I'll stay here. Proust is difficult to follow. I fear I would never regain my place should I leave." He said dramatically, "You three have fun."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Very." As I turned to leave, he called my name, and I turned.
"Woud you mind terribly if I asked you to put in a Prokofiev Symphony?"
I shook my head. "Of course not." He thanked my, and I waved.
As I went to put the C.D. in, I heard Matthew and Bryan arguing about something. I pushed play, and went to see what was wrong.
"Okay, knock it off." I said threateningly. "What's the matter?"
"Bryan here insists on taking the Jeep to play music, and I say no. Because," he added when he saw Bryan's face. "- if someone hears us, we could get in trouble."
"And I say, so what if they hear us, we'll be able to sense them, and we can just leave."
"But that would cut the fun short."
"It's not like we can't sneak back in!"
"Boys!" I said cautioning them.
They both looked at me. I told Bryan to take his mp3 player. I don't know how such a little thing could hold five hundred gigabytes of music. And Bryan had it nearly filled.
"But the earphones will come out!" He whined.
"Well, it's not like you need them. You could hear it if you were a hundred yards away."
"Fine." He huffed, then walked over to his bike. (pics of all the bikes on profile)
"I knew you'd see it my way," Matthew said smugly as he casually slung an arm over my neck.
"You," I said, turning to him, "Aren't out of trouble yet, Mister." I pushed his arm off, then went to my bike in the corner, pulled off the dust cover, and stroked the body gently.
"Hello baby, I missed you!" I crooned lovingly as I gently flipped it over to make sure it was in good order. "Yes, I missed you so much. I'm sorry I haven't been able to ride you everyday, but people would get suspicious. And we can't have that." I continued the quick tune-up. I knew Matthew and Bryan were most likely making fun of me behind my back, but I didn't care. This bike truly was my baby. I had modified it, tweaked it made it the best possible bike. The bike now had a small stereo, could go up to two hundred-fifty miles per hour, and was still looking new. I had only had it for two years, but me and this bike? We just fit together perfectly.
"Let's get outta here." I said as I flipped the bike over, mounted it, and hit the garage door button.
"Let's go ouuut!" Bryan howled. Matthew and I just rolled our eyes.
"Have fun!" I heard Peter murmur as he continued flipping the pages of his lengthy manuscript.
Just over a thousand words. Next chapter will be up shortly!
