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The final morning in Faraway kicks off as monotonously as all the others within the past four years, save two differences; whether they were minor or major was left to interpretation.
The first was the wake of a single eye as opposed to two. The second was a consequence of the first.
Sunny sat on the edge of his bed, with legs tucked tight. He scans his room with twice the regular effort. He finds nothing but a bed, a table, and a closet. Sunny's computer and Television were the most recent vacancies – both secured in a musty brown box the previous day, his mother assured.
This room had lost much over the years and all that remained accessible from his childhood up was this single mattress. (That mathematical reduction would haunt him for the rest of his years)
Sunny inches his head to the right. Squinting, he finds four indents in a rectangular formation – of equal size and position to ones that would lie under his bed.
His legs touch the ground and traverse the distance to the room door. He turns back, standing just outside the entrance. He closes his eye, exhales, and recalls what had once been, to the best of his ability. And Sunny’s best was downright magical - a photographic memory that was both a gift and a curse.
In his mind, Sunny re-imagines the prime of his childhood.
The bookcase contained his favorite picture books and comics on the bottom half. The upper section held a more mature variety of literature: Fashion magazines, cooking tips, and many musical notes.
The walls were decorated with photos of friends, and a calendar that saw much use up to a certain point.
Then there were twos of mostly everything. Two racks, two laundry baskets . . . and two beds, one messier than the other. He’d never admitted it, but he’d preferred those pink covers over his blue. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to check. His new house already had all the furniture he needed.
Sunny opens his left eye, returning to reality. His breath hitches when the nostalgia doesn’t vanish. Décor of the past melds with the present in a nauseating mixture. Sunny smacks the right side of his face twice, then violently shakes his head. The illusion disappears like the flick of a switch.
A photographic memory has its perks, but deceptions never helped anyone. The luxury disappeared, but something had taken their place. A Lily-of-the-Valley sits atop the table.
“She must have left it there last night.” And Sunny hadn’t seen it. He lets out a nigh-inaudible sigh.
Sunny debates whether to bring the lone flower with him or leave it behind as a memorial. He decides on the former.
The new owners will toss it out anyway.
He closes the door a final time and passes by the bathroom. On the stairs, he hesitates. Not for any delusions, but the memories. Forgiveness comes in time, but he will never forget. Even if he never stepped foot back in this house, he’ll always remember-
*Honk*
The car’s horn blows pointless thoughts away. His body moves before his mind. The distance to the front door narrows to 0 in moments. His left hand gently holds the flower vase while the right reaches for the handle.
The sunlight would have been blinding, if not for the tall figure blocking its rays. Although Kel was radiant in his own way. The onyx-haired boy was named after the Sun, but he’d often thought that moniker would fit Kel better.
“You finally came out.” Kel draws out the adverb.
Sunny shrugs. It wasn’t like he could stay. More importantly, “You’ve got grease on your face.”
Kel’s eyes shoot up and a hand flies to wipe the stain of morning breakfast from his lips. Sunny arches an eyebrow at the other arm, hidden behind his friend’s(?) back. “What did you want?’
Kel cringes at Sunny’s bluntness. “I-I guess I deserved that.” The athlete rubs his cheek.
Sunny cocks his head slightly to the side.
“You know . . . the hospital and all.” An understatement wouldn’t do justice to that level of inarticulacy. It was the day Sunny ruined everything – confessed that he had ruined everything, many years ago. When all was said and done, he awaited their reaction.
He had never seen Hero so confused before. Vulnerable, yes, at the cemetery. But never wracked with shock and disbelief of that scale. In hindsight, maybe Hero once felt that way. Back when the wounds were fresh and their architect locked himself away, unable to see the results of his deeds. Four years later, Sunny pried open those old wounds and carved new ones. Hero wanted more. He wanted explanations that simply weren’t there. Sunny said all he needed to: First, he caused an accident, then he and Basil made a mistake.
As for Aubrey . . . she’d settled for a more assertive brand of interrogation than Hero. Sunny’s frail, wounded appearance almost definitely shielded him from her fists, but not her words. Words he will never forget for the rest of his life, not even the incoherent babble after she broke into tears. Those hurt the most.
Kel was the last to leave. He tried the hardest to remain optimistic. The strain on his smile was a testament to that fact. He offered a pat to the shoulder and a casual “see you later” that held none of the confidence the boy displayed on the first day he dragged Sunny out of seclusion.
Short of awkward greetings and silences, he and Kel hadn’t spoken since then. Sunny accepted that they never would again. Kel, Aubrey, and Hero alike. The only solace Sunny had was that he’d stared them all right in the face throughout the ordeal.
So . . . what was Kel doing here, right at the very end? “I’m sorry.” Kel apologizes.
He apologizes.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“No, I screwed up. After all that stuff about friends sticking together stuff and bugging you, I folded first.”
“It was my fault.”
“Yeah, it was. So that makes us even!” Kel flashes his pearly whites.
Smiling like that only perplexes Sunny. “We are?”
Kel bashfully caresses the back of his neck. “Okay, maybe I didn’t give it that much thought, but I know I’d regret it if you just left without any goodbyes. I’ll take baby steps and tackle what’s in front of me.”
The implications quickly dawn on Sunny. “You still want to be friends?”
“Sure do.” Kel nods.
“With me?”
“S’there anyone else named Sunny?”
“None I know that killed their sisters.” Sunny emphasizes.
The cheer is wiped off Kel’s face. “Just because you did a bad thing doesn’t make you a bad person.” Sunny doubts Kel remembered that he’d said those very words before, under different circumstances. “Even I can tell it was an accident. What bothers me is . . . after.” He trails off, choosing his next words carefully. A jarring contrast from the boy in Sunny’s memories – the one who always said whatever came to mind without an iota of self-awareness. “Aw hell, we can sort out the rest later. When you visit next, I’ll know exactly what to say. Hero and Aubrey too.”
Sunny doubts that too. “I don’t think Hero wants anything to do with me.”
Kel slowly shakes his head before bringing his hidden hand forward, revealing a lunchbox wrapped in blue cloth. “Chef Hero’s home-cooking. It’s for the road.”
Sunny anxiously accepts the farewell gift. The box is still warm.
“He skipped his morning jog to make it. And boy, is it tasty.” Kel sighs happily.
Sunny stares long enough to bore a hole in the gift. “Any chance it’s been poisoned?”
“Not funny, man!” Kel gasps.
“Yeah, that was awful.” He says nothing else. Nevertheless, Kel understands that Sunny has questions, even if Sunny feels he doesn’t deserve to voice them.
“Hero needs more time. Way more than me. But that doesn’t mean he hates you. We’ve lived next to each other for our whole lives after all.” It was such an obvious fact that it goes overlooked. The earliest memories Sunny has already involved the quirky brothers from next door.
He’ll miss them.
“He’s not ready to see you, but this is his way of saying he doesn’t want things to end. Not like this.” Kel’s frowns deeply. “I couldn’t get a hold of Aubrey though. She’s something else.”
“She came over last night.”
Kel’s pupils dilate. “Seriously? You’re not hurt, are you.” He searches Sunny’s face for any signs of bruising.
Sunny holds up the vase.
“She got you flowers. Man, Aubrey’s such a girl!” His boisterous laughter fades as curiosity catches up. “Wait, doesn’t that make you the girl?”
“Don’t overthink it.”
“Why even visit that late?” Sunny’s advice falls on deaf ears as the cogs in Kel’s head turn. “You two didn’t do anything weird, did you?”
Sunny’s pale cheeks redden. “She wanted to say goodbye.”
Kel blinks. “Huh. She beat me to the punch. . . Ah well, Aubrey’s always been sweet on you.”
Sunny casts Kel a knowing, judging look.
“Don’t give me that, dude. Maybe we wouldn’t argue so much if she was nice to me once in a while!” Maybe she would have if you hadn’t picked on her all the time.
“Ugh, forget her. The flower’s nice though. Actually, kinda familiar.”
Those were Sunny’s exact thoughts. “I didn’t ask, but they’re probably from Basil’s place.”
Kel’s mood suffers a slight dip at the mention of the blonde. “I went over to visit the other day. Good ol’ Basil wasn’t doing too good. Otherwise, I’m sure he’d be right here with me wishing you a safe journey!”
“That’s fine.” Sunny touches his glass eye. “I’ll always have this to remember him by.”
“I can’t tell if you’re serious or playing around,” Kel shudders. “Then again, that weirdo sense of humor and mystery is what makes you Sunny.” He grins widely and raises his right hand. The atmosphere is filled with expectation.
Sunny holds the food and vase tightly to his chest with one hand and reciprocates the gesture. A loud smack follows, accompanied by a stinging palm.
Sunny’s hand glides off Kel’s and hits the athlete square on his chest. “I missed. Sorry.”
“We’ll have to work on that . . . but hey, it’s the thought that counts!” Kel bounces back with that dopey smile. “Good thing you’re so short and scrawny or that could have really hurt~”
Sunny’s eyebrow twitches violently. He glances at the waiting car, the patient mother inside, and takes one step forward. In that instant, Kel shows off his basketball prowess and guards Sunny’s line of sight in the blink of an eye.
“I’m kidding!” Kel pulls Sunny into a hug, laughing by himself.
He smells like sweat and bacon.
Just then, a window blind closes in the neighbor’s house.
“Heh. Nothing’s changed after all.” Kel breaks away.
That couldn’t be further from the truth. “If you hadn’t barged in that day, I don’t know what would have happened to me.” Sunny let out the faintest smile. “Thanks, Kel. For everything.”
There is no exaggeration in those words. No substitute for a debt that he could never repay.
“Don’t make it sound so final. You’ll come back to visit, right?”
Sunny nods and reaches into his pocket. He offers his dear friend a rock-shaped charm.
The other boy took it as if he were receiving Sunny’s last rites. “You’re giving me your Pet Rock?”
The champion pet rock – Sunny wishes he’d emphasized.
“Loaning. I’ll take it back later.”
“It’s a promise! I’ll keep him nice and clean for you.”
“I want my $20 back by then too.”
The mood shatters. “. . . Guess I’ll have to find myself a part-time job.”
“Guess so.” Sunny smirks.
“Thanks for waiting.” Sunny straps himself into the car.
Mom starts the vehicle. Soon, they were off. “I feel awful, separating you like this. You boys are practically brothers.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
A know-it-all smile crept on her face. “He is your god-brother.”
Sunny’s forehead creases.
“Us adults decided it the day you were born in that old house.” She strolls down memory lane. “It was bad timing, premature, and your father was still at work. Thankfully, Kel and Hero’s father secured a safe delivery.”
A memory that escaped even him. “Is he a doctor?”
“I don’t know about now, but not back then. He’d tried, studied, but couldn’t make it in the end. Either way, his experience saved us, and I was indebted to that family ever since. Even if I still don’t like what came after.” She grumbles.
“What happened?”
With a playful frown, she replies. “As I said, your father wasn’t there, and I fell unconscious. When I came to, you were in Mari’s arms, already named.”
Sunny blanched. “You didn’t name me?”
“Honey, haven’t you ever thought Sunny was a bit . . . not my style?” Yes. Too in-extravagant for mom. Too childish for his stalwart father. He always wondered why they never stuck with Sun. “I carried you for nine months and that man just let Mari steal the privilege from me. That was one of the few times I was rightfully furious with your sister.”
Sunny hangs his head low. “She really was everywhere.” He whispers.
His mother hears loud and clear. “I’m sure she still is. At the very least, in our hearts.”
He can’t apologize. His friends hadn’t known. His parents knew, and he knew they did. It’s an unspoken rule to never bring up the matter. Mom knows he’s sorry, and he knows that she’s forgiven him. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here.
He’s sure she’d thought of running many times, but she stayed.
The outskirts of Faraway Town gain a brighter hue. His mother suddenly appears younger. The wrinkles beneath her eyes vanish, and her smile, less tired.
He turns to the vacant front seat. There, his dearly departed sister speaks with their mom, animatedly and joyously. Her voice doesn’t carry. Sunny can only process her actions with an eye trapped in the past. Eventually, she glances his way, a coy smile playing on her lips.
Sunny stomachs the incongruity, knowing reality won’t permit its continued existence.
He’s proven right before the minute mark.
After verifying that there were only two inside the car, he attends to his lunch. The cloth neatly unwraps. It was tight enough to hold together but just loose enough for Sunny to effortlessly unravel. That consideration was expected of Hero.
Sunny also expects a damn good meal.
He opens the lunchbox. A mixture of scents and spices fills the cramped space. Yet Sunny stares blankly. The package consists of a fresh golden omelet atop rice and bacon on the side; 2 pieces too small for the arrangement. One of them is already half-eaten.
Sunny’s lips twitch like a weather vane in a storm, cycling between a frown and a smile. Giggles slip out unexpectedly. The gesture is breathy and weak, degenerated from inactivity, but enough to shock mom and have her check the rear-view mirror. She views the miracle occurring before her eyes. One that she hadn’t witnessed in half a decade.
Her hermit of a son burst into spontaneous laughter.