Hope everyone is staying safe, wherever you are. Things are getting scarier in many places, and while where I am it seems like the worst is finally behind us, my thoughts are with each of you who might be experiencing difficulties right now.
Another chapter on the shorter side this week. Enjoy!
[11. SATURDAY]
...
It's crazy to think it's already the second weekend Miles spends back in Canada. This Saturday he's on a roadtrip with Hunter, heading to Montreal to gather up Frankie's things from her apartment. She reassured them Max won't be home (apparently there's an out-of-town thing with his family, scheduled months ago, he will be gone all weekend). Yet, Frankie decided to stay back in Kingston. She said she has homework to do, tons of it, and she is falling behind. But of course the real reason is that she's not ready to be back there, which is understandable.
Despite the reason for the trip, Miles is happy to have this time with Hunter. They've spent more time together in the past two weeks that they had in years, but they've hardly been alone with each other. Miles lets Hunter drive what is now technically his car, some hardcore music blasting through the speakers while they bump their heads up and down, a grin on their faces at the silliness of it. Hunter's beating his hands on the steering wheel in a fairly decent replica of the drums track, and Miles mimics him by slapping his open palms on his thighs. It's been a long time since he's felt this goofy, which is a strange thought to have right at this moment — driving towards their sister's abusive ex's condo — but it's true nonetheless.
It's a three-hour drive to Montreal, so they had to leave fairly early in order to make it back at a reasonable time. At around noon they grab a couple of burgers to go from a diner at the edge of town, and half an hour later they're parking the car along the cobbled streets of Old Montreal.
"Ready to do this?" Miles asks, as they stand on the sidewalk in front of the building's front door.
"Ready," Hunter nods, and then without a second thought precedes him inside.
Neither of them has ever been here, which Miles thinks is odd. Obviously, Miles himself was all the way in Europe for most of the time she lived here, but he would have expected Hunter to come by, if anything to help her move in. In hindsight, it's telling that he never did.
It's a pretty nice condo, quite spacious, plenty of natural light coming through the big windows. The furniture has been carefully selected and tastefully placed, and Frankie's style is perceivable even through the layers of masculine leather and dark woods. The two brothers stand in the living room side by side, a little overwhelmed by the task in front of them.
"Where should we start?" asks Hunter.
"Let's do the bedroom, get it over with," Miles suggests. Sooner or later they'll have to tackle Frankie's massive closet, so better get started with it and make sure it's done.
It's hard — in a way that Miles expected, but still surprises him. Not on a practical level: Frankie is obsessively tidy, they find everything precisely where she said it would be, so gathering her stuff is really easy. It's the little things. Seeing all the traces that her life here left behind. All the pictures of her with him, perfect portraits of a feigned happiness that got them all fooled. All the little trinkets on her dresser in the same exact place where they'd been in her childhood bedroom, only now they're in someone else's home. Her home.
As Miles browses around the room and through her things, he can clearly picture his sister in this place. He remembers Frankie mentioning she never really felt at home, here, how it was always his condo more than theirs. Still, Miles can't help but see little traces of her everywhere.
She has a picture of the three of them on her bedside table. Miles and Hunter and Frankie, on the day of the twins' high school graduation. They're right outside the steps of Degrassi, the twins are wearing their gowns and Miles is in between them, one arm on each of them. They all look radiant, smiles brighter than the stars. Miles was just back home after finishing his first year at uni. It feels so much longer ago than it was, just a year and a half.
"Look, have you seen this?"
He shows the picture to Hunter who takes it from him, smiling a quiet smile. "Where was it?"
"Just here, by her bed."
Hunter stares at the picture for a moment longer, then he gives it back to Miles. Miles packs it with the rest of the stuff, and they both resume working without another word.
She has a lot of crap, however well-organised, so it eventually takes them a few trips up and down the stairs to load the car, and at the end of it the backseat is overflowing.
They've left the bathroom last. Miles finds a laundry basket hidden in a closet, and they proceed to fill it up with all of her hair and makeup stuff, toiletries and skincare. It is — unsurprisingly, knowing Frankie — a whole lot of stuff.
Hunter seems a little spaced out. He's standing awkwardly by the sink and Miles notices he's stopped packing, instead fiddling with one of Frankie's dark lipsticks in his hands. "Do you think we should leave something behind?" he asks, "Like, a message on the mirror for when he's back? I bet it'd freak him out."
Miles considers it for a moment, revelling in the image of Max coming home to something like that, the look on his face.
"Nah, let's not," he ends up saying, "Let's just go, okay?"
Hunter seems a little disappointed. He gives one more longing look to the lipstick before thrusting it back into the make-up bag and zipping it up.
"Yeah, let's go."
They drop her keys on the kitchen island, check each room one more time to make sure they picked up everything, and then close the door behind them and leave.
