A/N: Okay, so I forgot to mention this in the first couple chapters, but they were set on August 3, 2006. This chapter is set on August 6.
It was the day after the funeral. I had made reservations at a hotel down in Baltimore and I was taking Ben down there to get some clothes and whatever else he needed. If I could, I would've left him in New York and gone by myself. I didn't want to risk him... I don't even know, but I didn't want him to hurt more. But I couldn't, so instead he was in the seat beside me, looking out the window. Every once in a while, I'd look over and ask him a question, and if I was lucky, he'd look in my direction, but mostly he just stared out the window. At one point, he fell asleep, but other than that, the ride was silent.
When we got into Baltimore, I drove straight to my brother's house. I parked in front and for a moment I just looked at it. There were a few newspapers on the sidewalk. Then, I looked down at Ben, who was still staring out the window. "C'mon, kiddo." I opened my door and got out, but he didn't move. I went to his side of the car and opened the door. Kneeling down on the curb I looked at his small face. "C'mon, Ben." I held out my hand and when he didn't take it or move even, I leaned over him and undid his seatbelt. I tried again. "Gotta get you some clothes, kiddo. C'mon."
He didn't move.
Closing my eyes, I sighed. "Please, Ben." His eyes flicked down to me. I held out my hand again. "C'mon." I nodded my head towards the house.
Finally, he got out of the car and I closed the door after him, his small hand secure in mine. I had taken the house key from my brother's coat pocket in New York. It bounced back and forth between my fingers in my pocket. When we reached the door, I took it out and opened the door, pushing it open into an empty house. I have to sell it, I realized as we went inside. "Why don't you go upstairs and get your clothes together? I'll find a box." He scrambled up the stairs and I turned to the living room, box completely forgotten as I saw the pictures on every available surface.
They were mostly of Ben, some with my brother, others with my sister-in-law, some of them all together. There was a table dedicated to Bernie, including pictures of me and him. There were a few pictures of my sister-in-law and her family on another table.
Shaking my head, I walked upstairs and poked my head into Ben's room. "How's it goin', kiddo?"
He turned around before going back to emptying his drawers. I stood a moment more, watching him pack up his former life and then went down the hall to the door for the attic. Pulling the chain hanging from the bare light bulb, the wood floor was illuminated as well as the neatly piled stuff. 'Stuff' was the closest I could get to describing the array of things in boxes and on top of the boxes. After looking around for a moment, I found two empty boxes and took them, lingering for a moment before pulling the chain and bathing the room in darkness again.
The last room in the hallway was my brother's and his wife's bedroom. I left the boxes by the door before going in and looking at the things on top of the dressers and in the nightstands. I didn't find much, just what one might expect to see in a happy couple's bedroom. I left, snatching up the boxes and returning to Ben's room. He was looking at his toys and books which were housed on a bookshelf. "Here's a couple boxes for your clothes." He held out a toy and a couple books. "Put those in too, if you want. And if you still have room, you can bring some more books and toys."
This time, I didn't hang around the door, instead, went straight downstairs and back into the living room and to the small desk in the far corner. In it I knew I would find the business side of the house; the tax records, bills, that sort of stuff. What I didn't expect to find was an album full of pictures from me and Bernie's childhood. I took it out of the drawer and sat down on the couch, opening to the first page. As I turned the pages, I couldn't help but be brought back to every single memory the pictures evoked. I found myself sobbing soon, over a picture of me, Bernie and our parents. We were all smiling in the back yard.
Bernie's death didn't really hit me until that moment on his couch the day after his funeral. Only then was I really able to break down and cry, mourn for the loss of my last direct relative, my brother.
When the tears finally ceased, I wiped my face, took a deep breath and went back up to Ben's room. This time, when I stood in his doorway, he got up and came over, hugging me. All I could do was close my eyes, return the hug and reflect on this trip home.