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“You don’t need to know this stuff for your project, do you?”
Caden rolled onto his right side after his left turned into a lost cause for sleep. He wished his Aunt’s words would stop playing in his head, or her face when he asked about their deaths. He must’ve been really sick to want to know those details, right?
“Uh- no. But we’re talking about it, I just… wanted to know the whole story.”
“They were driving you home from daycare.”
He knew this already; he’d known this as long as he could remember. He even remembered the rumble of a car he never saw again, the fabric seat itching his legs, the rhythmic flash of streetlamps in his eyes until-
“A truck had to swerve to avoid merging into another car, they over-corrected, lost control and crashed into your parents’ car. It was an accident, not much more to it.”
Not much more, but still more, right?
“Hey, Caden…”
Caden started at his sister’s voice whispering from the doorway. He sat up and spotted her peeking into his room. Through the haze of darkness, however, she looked like someone else for a moment. Someone else with blonde hair and a worried look on her face.
He shook his head, “What?”
The door creaked a little as Ally slipped past.
“You thinking about the project, too?”
“Was tryin' not to.”
Her mouth twitched in sympathy. Caden imagined that she must've been keeping herself awake the same way he had. What exactly kept her awake? What kinds of things had they remembered but kept hidden from each other all these years?
Ally crawled onto his bed and sat cross-legged in front of him, “You think Auntie was telling us the whole story?”
Caden’s heart leapt and, in a show of enthusiasm, flipped back the covers to sit mirrored to his twin. “No, no. I feel like that, too.” Realizing that Ally had never actually expressed what she felt, he clarified, “She’s definitely holding something from us.”
Ally’s eyes lit up, “It’s like, I remember things that don't make sense! Not just after tonight, but for years. I thought I just had a bad memory.”
“Me too. What do you remember?”
She twisted and fidgeted with her hands as she thought, “Um… For one, I don’t think Mom's name was Jessica. S-so I looked it up! Apparently Jessica was the most popular name for girls in the year our parents were born, don’t you think that’s a little convenient? I feel like she actually had an F name, like Fiona or something.”
Caden’s heart sank a little bit. Of course Ally remembered normal, light-hearted details like that. She didn’t think about messed up stuff like he did.
Perhaps sensing his withdrawal from her, she continued, somber this time, “I also remember shouting. Auntie used to go on about how much our parents loved each other, like it was some epic romance, but I just hear lots of yelling and crying.”
He nodded, feeling this was as good a time as any to broach the elephant in his nightmares. “Yeah, I remember some stuff, too.”
“Like?”
He paused, how deep did he want to dig into the subject? He prodded the memories he usually kept locked under a comfortable layer of numbness, trying to determine if he could get into it without making a scene. Faces loomed in the background of his mind, a car, flashing lights, itchy seats, hot pavement, screaming-
Although, maybe it was best not to sound too macabre, “What Auntie said about their death. Driving us home from daycare. I think I remember the night they died.”
“Night?”
The rhythmic flashing lights, “It was dark, I remember streetlamps.”
Ally bit her lip and Caden caught a glimpse of fear in her expression before she turned her face away. “That could’ve been anything. What makes you think that was when they died?”
A flash of colour in his memory made Caden turn away, too.
“Blood.”
He didn’t need to see Ally to feel her horror, or maybe that was just his own. Either way, he heard her shifting away from him. “Stop it. That was just a nightmare. I don’t remember anything like that.”
But he wanted her to believe him, to believe the pain he’d been in for the last ten years. Why couldn’t she see their father's frantic eyes making contact with them as they all laid on the scorching pavement. Or the blood pooling under his missing leg. Or hear the way Auntie screamed as she found them all and carried the two of them to safety?
“Stop!” Ally sobbed and got off his bed.
Had he been saying all of that out loud? Caden shook his head, focusing on Ally’s terrified and tear-streaked face instead, “Sorry.”
Her expression softened at his apology, she wiped her tears away. Why wasn’t he crying himself?
“You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to.” She sniffled, “I believe you, ok?”
Caden cringed inwardly, but tried to keep a neutral expression despite his embarrassment. He’d really overshared, hadn’t he? He didn’t need to get into that much detail to get her to believe him, but he’d done it anyway. Probably out of some sadistic need to make others feel as sorry for him as he felt for himself. To make himself look more interesting, or something.
He merely nodded in response as he got back under the covers.
Ally started backing toward the door, “I’m going back to bed. Night.”
He winced, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
Caden buried his head into his pillow, begging for the sleep gods or whatever to let him lose consciousness. Maybe forever. He listened for Ally’s slow footsteps and the eventual click of the door closing, but he never heard it.
“Y’know, I uh-” Ally’s voice sounded small, tentative, “I remember a little bit of the funeral.”
Oh? Their parents’ funeral was a black spot in his memory.
“I only remember one casket, though.”