St. Honors Clinic: a place of goodwill and noble intentions. It portrays itself as a serene haven with its grand architecture and lush gardens. This place becomes a home for those who struggle and carry weights more than their own shoulders can take- those without a support system. I hate St. Honors Clinic. It only reminds me of my shortcomings and failings, my inability to look beyond myself and prioritize someone more important.
I really try not to think of my little sister and the hundred other kids that have been, or still are, subjugated to staying in this place. It was a hard task when I've come to know of her whereabouts and struggles. It's an even more difficult task with her standing all of 20 meters away with the biggest smile on her face, cake smeared across her features as a result of some other kid jokingly pushing her into it. I have not seen her laugh and smile for years. See, I was nowhere to be found for her fifteenth and sixteenth birthday, then rightfully exluded from her seventeenth. I was miles away in a city landscape much different than the place I have grown up and known my entire life. I chose to leave, get away, escape or whatever one would call it.
Showing up here today isn't a first-time incident. It took all the courage I could muster to decide I should give myself a chance to repent and be forgiven by Primrose. Maybe it's not something she would understand, and I cannot demand that of her. I disappeared when she needed me, and it was too late when I've come back and effectively came to know about how she spent the past three years in this place. My absence is not something she will forgive easily, which is why I promised I'd show her how much I want it. It's been a couple months of impromptu visits, texts, calls, groveling to get her to talk to me and give me a chance. On her birthday, I'd hoped she would at least allow me to be with her on this special occasion. I shouldn't have pushed my luck too far. Showing up at her door unannounced is definitely not the way to go about it.
That girl, the one I seem to meet everywhere I go lately, was helping Ro clean her face with a napkin while my sister pouted like a child. I must admit it made something behind my ribcage twist in envy, but I had to remind myself that I wasn't entitled to these feelings yet. I have a vivid memory of the girl with long blonde hair who's now covered in frosting too and laughing like it's the most natural thing ever with Primrose. They painted quite the joyous picnic picture in lovely golden sunlight. It was ironic that it was held in a place as morose as St. Honors Clinic.
"You're still here?" A familiar voice sounded, coming closer to the bench on which I sat quietly in the distance so I can observe the party from afar. Last thing I wanted to do was to ruin Prim's birthday after making her cry earlier. That thought left a bitter taste in my throat. Dominic Hughes settled to my right, sliding a paper plate of cake towads me. I looked at it for a long contemplative moment before accepting it. I don't think I had a proper piece of cake for three years now.
"It's not poisoned, if that's what you're wondering." Dominic half joked, cutting into his own slice while eying the view of the party from this spot.
I gave the cake a taste just for the hell of it and soon regretted the years of cake I had missed on for whatever reason. I went in for another bite immediately. I'm pretty sure this is the most delicious thing I've had in awhile.
"Good isn't it?" Dominic noted smugly. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at the piece of sugar and carbs. Why was he so smug? He burst into laughter, shoulders shaking and all. "I promise it's not poisoned. It's some of the best cake you can get in town, possibly the whole country."
I put the plate aside, having already wolfed down the slice. "You didn't come here to discuss cake, did you?"
He shook his head and put away his own plate too. "No. I came to discuss why you're still here."
I scoffed. "It should be obvious since it's my little sister's birthday, regardless of whether I can talk to her or not."
"Well." He trailed off, but the insinuation and reality of the situation were loud and clear. Primrose didn't want me here. The annoying thing about this guy is he seemed to regret even considering to say that simple truth out loud, and I know his regret was genuine because it's Dominic Hughes. You couldn't get more straightforward and truthful than the guy. Perhaps he wanted to ask the same questions that Primrose would ask if she were to talk to me: Where were you? Why and how could you leave just like that? Much like Primrose, I hadn't been in contact with him for the length of my stay outside of this city. I couldn't answer any of those questions in a satisfying manner. My reasons were tailored and rationalized by my own state of mind back then, and I couldn't explain it to another person if I tried. I have often felt ashamed of admitting it was an escape, simply put. Maybe I carried a lot of regret about it, but guilt and regret doesn't get people far.
"She feels hurt and betrayed if I have to guess, but she's doing much better now than ever before." He sighed. "It might take time but she'll eventually come around and accept you back in her life."
"She's still as stubborn as I remember. I'm starting to think that she won't." I kneaded my temple.
"Then you should try to get to her through someone she trusts and loves."
My shoulders stiffened as I started to get his drift. "I'm not that desperate yet."
He gave me an assessing look that let me know he was completely aware of how desperate I truly am. I wouldn't have been trying to stalk and talk to Prim for the past week without improvement. It was utterly frustrating to be ignored. The bastard knew it. "Look, everybody around here knows that Lily was the one who got through to Primrose, and she's about the only person your sister trusts and loves. I suspect more than anybody else at the moment. So take it as a suggestion. Lily is your best shot."
I looked back to the group of people still mingling in the dying sunlight. Primrose was jumping excitedly in front the so-called Lily, holding some book in her hand. She looked the happiest and most carefree I'd seen her yet, and somehow that softened the blow of not being able to talk to her or approach her personally just yet.
"To be fair, I'm not even sure if Lily will give you a chance. I guess you have to shoot your shot." Dominic got to his feet, evident amusement not leaving his face. "But I'm sure doctor Rowanda can be very convincing too."
I mulled his words over again and nodded absently. It was an option, though I wasn't yet considering going through Prim's doctor to get to her. It somehow seemed roundabout and juvenile. I know she won't appreciate it. There isn't much else I can try to persuade her with to give me a chance to talk. It is clear that she's no longer the clueless child she once was, nor is she going to make this easy for me.
Primrose has many reasons to put up all her walls against me. I probably- no, I most certainly deserve that form of punishment because I had been so absorbed in my own world that I forgot she was more in need of immediate attention and support, especially when all the adults she could depend on have failed her. I did not fulfill my duty as her older brother. I was supposed to protect her from the horrors of her mind and support her through the darkness. Now, I have no idea what terrible things she went through all on her own. A selfish part of me never wants to find out either, but then that is just because it strives to protect me from the harsh truth of my own absence. But my mind is made. I will try whatever method I can to get closer to her again. Even if it means grovelling to the girl called Lilianne.
*
Nights approached faster as autumn approached and the days kept getting shorter. The colder it gets, the worse the turn my thoughts take as I am reminded of the approach of the day not even the passing of years had made any easier to digest or forget. I cannot and am unable to forget it either way. It's hard enough that everyone around me is pretending nothing had ever gone wrong in our perfect little lives. Unfortunately, I am also dragged to take part in this play-pretend, return home and smile if only for the sake of my mother. It was more difficult to do so today of all days. Met with the smell of freshly baked lasagna, I shut my eyes tightly and fought the memory of little children racing through the door from play sessions outside as the smell of their favourite homemade meal wafted through the windows. They would get told off, then would run along to clean up before huddling around the table to wait anxiously for food to be served. There would be chatter and laughter, fighting over seconds, apologies and jokes.
"Adam, you're back." My mother said with a small smile. I don't know if she was surprised that I came at all, or if she's just happy that I came over earlier than expected. She looked better than when I last saw her, but not by much.
I smiled back. "Yeah. Did you have dinner yet?"
Putting away my jacket, I followed her inside to the dining room as she chattered. "I was waiting for you. I didn't want to eat alone-
"Is nobody home yet?" I asked, hoping for a negative response despite the fact it would just aggravate me just the same.
Her smile faltered momentarily and the lines surrounding her mouth and eyes deepened, reminding me again of how much she seemed to age in such a short time. I approached her and gave her a half hug, dismissing my own question. "Come on, let's go eat."
Our old housekeeper set the table and started plating our food as we settled in the comically big dining room. The food looked delicious and warm, but I hardly had any appetite. Once, there was a time when mom would have prepared dinner herself and served it with the largest of smiles. I shook my head and pushed her plate towards her firmly, picking up my own utensils. "Let's dig in, you'll have to eat it all."
I forced myself to eat the food. It was delicious, but was hard to swallow with the empty dining room, the ghost of family, and the memories attached to the meal. My mother smiled and ate slowly. We were both simmering in silence until I heard the clang of silverware on ceramic. I looked up in her direction to find her staring blankly at her plate, tears overflowing her eyes and dropping onto the hard surface of the table. I froze at the sight and dropped everything to take her hands in mine.
"S-she would have been here with us. She loved lasagna- She hiccupped, trying to stifle her crying. I bit the tip of my tongue to stop myself from asking her which of the two she was referring to. "It's Primrose's birthday today."
I couldn't trust myself with words, so I nodded instead. Silence and the ticking of a distant clock was all there was to fill the space as I stared hard at the tabletop while she composed herself. In the end I could only assist her up to her own bedroom and help her take her medicine before tucking her in.
"Adam." She called quietly before I could leave. I stopped at the door frame and took a deep breath, turning to her with what I hoped was a bright smile. "Will you forgive me?"
"Mom-
"Prim. Will she be able to someday forgive me?" She ignored my interruption. I couldn't answer that, I wanted to tell her. She should have asked Prim to her face. I could only ever answer for myself and, even then, I wasn't so sure what my answer would be. I understand how harsh I am being. Even after so many years, after all the growing up I had to do, I still couldn't find the words to comfort her.
Her bedside table held a framed photo of our happy family from a few years back. There was a certain look on her face when I met her gaze again that I couldn't quite put my finger on, but I had the odd feeling that I've seen before. She was a mere shadow of her old self. Time has worn her out, and with everything that happened, I had no doubt that she was affected in a way the rest of us can't understand. "Mom, don't you think you should take a little break? Maybe visit aunt Brie for a vacation? The change of atmosphere could do you well."
Her gaze stayed fixed on the framed photo as seemed to forget my presence. I nodded resignedly and wished her a good night before leaving. The sight of the undisturbed dining table left a bitter taste on my tongue as I made my way out of the house, driving to my appartment that failed to become a manifestation of home. Not quite yet.