Memshare: Mementos

You are a small boy--no older than 6, maybe 7 years old. The room you're in is lovely, cozy; books are tucked into the shelves on the wall, and your bed is soft, covered in starry blankets and fluffy pillows. It is yours--you know it is yours, that no one will send you away, that you are cared for. But even so, you feel like a stranger in this room.

You've been crying for a while, curled up on your bed. Already, you fear you're beginning to forget what your parents looked like--how long will your father's voice remain clear in your mind? How long will your hand know the shape of your mother's? You've already lost them--why did you have to lose the last pieces of them, too?

But--no. That's selfish. You're imposing so much already. How can you want more than what you've been given? How can you cling to the dead so tightly, when the living are here, caring for you? You've done nothing to deserve their kindness, and this is how you repay them?

"Luke, are you there?"

A soft voice breaks you out of your misery; you jerk upright, scrubbing the tears from your eyes as the door creaks open. A little girl slips inside, looking at you with big, concerned eyes.

"What... what are you doing here?"

The little girl comes closer. "I heard what mom and dad told you. They had no right to pack away the stuff your parents left for you."

"You..."

You hadn't thought she'd heard. It doesn't--surprise you, exactly, that she's incensed on your behalf, because you know, already, that she is such a person: brave and bold, unafraid of speaking her mind and standing up for what she feels is right. It's simply that... you hadn't thought your feelings were worth anyone else's attention. You're touched and mortified all at once.

The little girl smiles at you. "Don't be sad. I'll help you get it back." She turns, prepared to fight for you, and you reach out quickly, grabbing her hand.

"There's no need. I think Dr. Lee is right," you say. Even to your own ears, it sounds hollow, and she frowns at you.

"Huh? What do you mean he's right? They took away the one thing that's most important to you..."

You try again, smiling this time. The little girl's cheeks are puffed out in irritation; it's not hard for your smile to be genuine, even if your heart is still heavy.

"I'm already part of a new family," you say. "I should say goodbye to my parents for now and focus on the life in front of me. It won't be good for me, you, or your mom and dad if I stay stuck in the past."

"Luke..."

You smile brightly--it fits a little better on your face, now, even if it's still awkward and forced. It's a mask you'll wear many, many times in the years to come. "It's all right. I know you guys are just trying to do what's best for me. I'm really glad for that." This much, you do mean, sincerely. Even at your young age, you know you're extremely fortunate. "I don't need to think about that stuff anymore. Your mom and dad promised me they'd give it to me when I'm older. I'll just look at it then."

The little girl looks unconvinced. "But... don't you want to have a look at it? Even the tiniest bit?"

"Yeah. I don't want to look." Maybe if you say it firmly enough, you'll believe it, too.

You can't keep this up for long, though; you wiped your eyes, but you can feel the tightness in your throat, the tears still waiting to be shed. So you try to send her away, pointing out the late hour; she's too attentive to be fooled, but she lets you usher her out.

-----

Unsurprisingly, once you're alone again, safely under the covers--the tears begin to flow just as easily as they had before. You muffle your voice, this time, burying your face in the pillow and fighting to keep your breath shallow. You're so focused on this that you don't hear your door open again, nor do you hear the little footsteps approaching you.

Suddenly, the blanket is pulled away--the little girl is looking right at you.

"Luke... are you crying?"

"N-no!" The lie comes easily, despite the thickness in your voice. "There was something in my eyes, that's all. I rubbed them." You blink rapidly, as if to sell your story better, but the little girl remains unmoved.

"Then... do you miss your parents?"

"No... I don't." This lie comes less easily, but you try anyway. It should be the truth anyway--it would be, if you were a better child. The girl keeps looking at you, and you relent under her worried gaze. "I just feel like I'm troubling all of you. And I made your parents worry about me. You're all so kind to me. I shouldn't be unhappy. I need to be more obedient and sensible..."

You trail off as your throat tightens again. You know that if you close your eyes, you'll see their faces: two loving smiles that you'll never see again.

"But, I don't know... sometimes, the image of them just appears in my mind."

And isn't it selfish to dwell? To be so dissatisfied?

"--Luke, you big dummy!"

You jump, startled. The little girl clambers onto the bed beside you, putting her little fists on her hips.

"Do you feel like you have to choose between us and your parents?" You open your mouth, but she barrels forward. "Your parents are your family, but my parents and I are your family too. Why would you have to choose? You can obviously have both..."

Some of the vigor starts to leave her, then, and she shrinks back a little. "Or... do you really not want me and my parents to be your family?"

Later, you'll look back on this moment with fondness. You'll know, with certainty, that you loved her even then. But right now, all you feel is overwhelming guilt; once more, tears well up in your eyes. You hate to see her like this--how could you make her upset this way?

"I'm sorry," you mumble. "It's my fault. Please don't be mad."

You're not sure if your apology has any effect. But the girl does settle down, sitting back on her heels.

"I'm not mad," she says softly. "But, um... can I stay here with you tonight?"

You start to say no. You shouldn't keep relying on her for comfort, and you know her parents want you both to be independent. But she presses a little more, comically widening her eyes and talking about monsters in the hallway, and you relent, allowing her to burrow under the blanket too.

Already, you want nothing more than to keep her safe.