familiar

Early morning and its slow rituals are disrupted by the engine of a truck. A secluded house and the property around it, which used to be a farm, both have been abandoned for several years. Left unattended for the weather to deal with. He hasn’t visited since the time their parents were moved to the retirement home. What a strange day it was. Tainting the image of this place with muffled lamentations, silent blame and eyes avoiding each other. All three siblings travelled long distances to be present for this unhappy ceremonial, and apart from witnessing their parents being cut-off from what they loved, seeing each other added to the jarring event. The sole thing they had in common was the realisation; they had nothing to talk about, no reason to stay in touch nor care. The reality of being biologically related simply was not enough. And that day it all re-emerged, ruining what was left.

It is surprisingly cold for a mid-June morning, and the heating in the rental vehicle is blowing hot air at the driver. His fingers are dancing around the steering wheel in the rhythm of a quiet song attempting to avoid emotional vulnerability. The headlights barely lick the walls of the main building when they settle and disappear after discovering the old barn. It has always been old. When they were young kids, when the parents left, and now. The appearance of the wooden building remained unchanged for the most part. It was the playground, the bunker, and a place of excitement. A world capable of capturing the attention of young beings for hours.

Sitting in the cooling vehicle while the dust from the road settles, his eyes calm down, and fingers relax in the newly-tasted silence. The gate to the barn, the reason why he is here, is open. Feeling uneasy, weighted by the anticipation and early hour, he leaves the safety of the cabin, putting a jacket over the dirty overall he is wearing. Immediately he can hear the fainted sound of a radio and seldom movement of things inside the building. When he enters, a familiar smell hits his senses scattering images in his head. Not as many faces, but many visions that never came true. Innocent dreams were created around here but couldn’t survive the outside world.

“I am glad you came,” a voice from somewhere by the roof where he spots the shadow of his brother. “Monica didn’t respond really. I tried to convince her, but I think she just wants to have nothing to do with us,” the silhouette added. It is a surprisingly warm welcome considering what are they here to do – to tear the building down. Together. People who have not spoken for ages and find each other’s company uncomfortable.

Mark is unofficially in charge of their parents’ possessions. Parents who are still alive but out of touch and with no power to enforce their opinions and no one listening to their pleas. They wouldn’t agree with Mark’s plan. “Why? Why now?” The newcomer asks with his head tilted back. The radio is silenced almost immediately, but it takes time to receive anything close to a response. “They’re not coming back. We’re never going to be together again. This place is worthless to anyone else. I thought we might be better off sorting things out ourselves. But Monica kinda ruined my plan.” He pauses, and the man standing underneath can hear an audible sneer. It is fair enough. Still far from explaining all the questions but enough to abandon the thought of leaving. For now.

There is a lot to go through. Things, mostly rubbish, but still so many shapes that he recognises. Working separately, he fails to notice Mark, who has been quiet for a while, sat on the main beam, legs hanging over the edge and watching him. With a face expressing a question, he looks up in the general direction of his brother.

“Allan, do you remember-“ Mark starts.

“Don’t start with the sentimental stuff!” It is weird hearing his name. Especially from someone as estranged as his brother. Getting emotional on his own, he may accept help to recover. He doesn’t need anybody to dig him deeper. It is this place, the things he is touching that keep pushing tears into his eyes, and the loss of control is becoming frustrating. But Mark persists:

“We were up here throwing things down to find out what will fall faster.”

“And then went wild when dad walked in and we started throwing things at him? I do remember that.” After a stretched pause, Allan finished his brother’s thought and sat down. With a smile peeling from his cheeks he focuses on the floor. The sun politely entered the space and created warm shapes on the dusty interior while they remain silent. Being here still feels wrong, but now the questions win over the antipathy. Surprised by the development, he can’t help himself but elaborate on the topic.

“What did go wrong? When did we stop caring about each other?” A sudden overwhelming wave of regret moulds Allan into a remorseful individual who reflects on all the years wasted occupied by a grudge. And much like with most long-lasting arguments, cannot seem to find the trigger that started it all.

“That’s why I wanted us to do this together,” Mark responded. “Because we have gotten lost. At least I have. And I miss being together. I wish we could go back although, I bet I wouldn’t fit into that barrel anymore.” Mark sounds sad. A genuine emotion that is a valuable currency in their newly rebuilt relationship.

“We couldn’t find you that day. It was the longest hide and seek I have ever been a part of. I wanted to win so badly!” Another stifled laughter, this time from Allan’s location, while his brother, still sitting, points at a hole in the gate.

“I think the fainted lines of the target are still there. You won that one. Even Monica was better at throwing a hatchet than me, but dad didn’t support any part of that activity.” Silence. “The only thing I attempt to throw nowadays are bills. And I throw them merely to pick them up again. I get so angry.”

Allan doesn’t know what to say. He understands those emotions, strangely feeling sorry for himself, he senses a connection that finally got a chance to be restored. Monica would certainly agree too, as he, after all, admits to missing her. There were many opportunities to make things better. Each day is an opening that can change everything merely by altering one small thing. But one is not always ready to take advantage of what is offered - it never appears to be an occasion good enough to break the patterns.

“Why do you want to tear this place down? It seems like you have many fond memories from here - I am now realising that I certainly do. Why not leave it for the next owners to deal with once our parents pass away, so we don’t open that Pandora’s box?”

Mark doesn’t say anything, but his feet disappear from the view and the rest of the body again turns into a shadow within a shadow. One of the chains attached to the roof rattled when he was moving around. Then he re-appears on the other side of the beam and kneels.

“What’s your last memory? The one that you cannot go past? The earliest thing you remember about us?” Allan is now trying to uplift the atmosphere that, without any warning, turned surprisingly dense. “You are the oldest one you must remember more than I do,” he adds. Then he stands up to stretch and look for a more comfortable place to sit realising this meeting was about more than just labour.

“Why are you asking that?” Mark’s voice changed. “Allan, I want to be a good brother. Why won’t you let me?” The voice of a hurt man filled the barn. Confused, Allan asks:” Why are you saying that? Why now? I don’t understand what are you talking about. I want us to be together too,” he leaves his new spot with the intention to climb up the ladder but stops with his foot on the first step. Disheartened and puzzled, he descends back on the ground and walks under his brother. “But I can’t. I felt like I wanted to but can’t bear the thought of being next to you.”

Mark moves slightly with the chain complaining again. An audible exhale leaves his lips. From here, Allan notices the poor state of his brother. The face that seems to belong to someone else, on top of a body that hasn’t been taken care of.

“You don’t remember anything, do you? Anything that happened. That’s why you can’t bear me -because I was in charge. You were great, and so was Monica – a good sport, down to anything I came up with. I loved playing with you. Nina was different. Too young and out of my control. She was up here with us several times.” A short pause for a shaky inhale, then Mark continues: “As the day before, we grabbed things from all over the barn and climbed on the beams. I carried Nina as she was too short and helped you with the ladder too. We played for some time when dad walked in, and we went too far. I did.” Another brief disruption in the monologue, but increasingly horrified, Allan now has an idea growing in his head about where the story is going. He doesn’t know who Nina is. “She got tangled in this chain.” The eerie sound again. “ And while she was trying to free herself, she lost balance and fell. Like a bag of flour, she fell, exactly where you are standing. Dad saw all that and tried to help her, but later on, we learned that the chain broke her neck before she even hit the ground.”

There’s nothing to be said. What could Allan possibly respond to a revelation of this weight? Terrified, he stumbles a few steps back. Further from the place where the sister, he did not get a chance to meet, perished.

“You blocked it out. We all did. And we still played together. Not up here anymore, but I would still spend hours crying in the barrel while you were searching for me around - immersed in the game. I wasn’t careful enough, and there is no way around it.” He’s in the dark again standing upright. “I have always been selfish. And I am sorry for asking you to carry this with you. Can you forgive me?”

Allan, realising he hasn’t spoken for long, takes a breath to create a somewhat comforting response. But his intentions fail in the chain rattle. And before he can say anything at all, he notices the motion that brings everything back. He can see her face and can hear dad screaming her name. The whole scene is painting itself in the air while his brother is starring in the reenactment.

It was the noise. The dust it raised and the shape Mark’s body adapted after the impact. A scene that should not have been seen. Every movement feels inappropriate. Every look in the direction seems wrong. Hesitant at first, Allan’s legs gradually gain speed when moving around the barn collecting artefacts yet still avoiding the sad statue hanging on the chain. It is unclear whether he wants them to preserve the memory or ensure their destruction. Little was explained and much of his life gained a strange foggy cover. Questioning countless situations from the family’s history, one thing he knows for sure; the barn is going down.