The rest of the evening goes pleasantly. Brayden fills her sister in on his update in the past eight years. He still works in his garage. The money isn't great but he loves what he's doing. He also met someone. Unfortunately, his girlfriend has to be at her parent's home for Christmas. He hopes Blair stays long enough so that he can introduce Rita to her.
While Brayden tells his life story, Blair can't help smiling now and then, genuinely happy with how life has been treating him. She can't remember the last time she saw her brother this content. Probably before their mother started with the torture. Maybe never. Their childhood was filled with a roller coaster ride under a schizophrenic mother's care. Even though Blair was the one who became the receiving end of their mother's wrath during her episodes, Brayden's smile was taken away at a young age.
Brayden clears his throat, looking suddenly nervous. "I don't know if I will have a chance to tell you this in the future." He takes Blair's cold hand in his. "Blair, I've been living in guilt for far too long. I should've stepped up and helped you every time Mother was at it. Instead, I just stood there and watched until she was done with you."
Blair stares at their joint hands. "Brayd-"
"I don't know what I was thinking. I don't deserve to be called your brother." Tears roll down his cheeks as he begins to sob.
"We were both surviving the situation, Brayden." Blair squeezes her brother's hands. Her heart aches seeing him cry. "You will always be my brother. I know I tried to cut the ties with you. It was just hard for me to see you without associating it with Mother and everything she did to me."
"I helped her hurt you by doing nothing." He shakes his head. "I'm a monster "
"You were just a child, Brayden. Remember that. Your conscience was taken away from you. You didn't know what was right or wrong. All we believed was everything that Mother said."
"You didn't kill Father, Blair."
"I know. Father was in an accident because he was speeding to the hospital during my delivery. It wasn't my fault." Blair's vision is becoming blurry from the tears she's been holding back. "It took me years of counseling to come to terms with it. I wasn't the cause of Father's death. Mother was wrong."
Brayden wipes the tears from his face with his shirt sleeve. "I'm glad you finally found peace within yourself."
"I'm not there yet, Brayden, but soon I will be. This is the very reason why I came home this Christmas. Because I want to start making peace with you. I want us to fix what we can fix, while we still have time."
Brayden smiles weakly at his little sister. "I know you've probably forgiven me, but I need to hear it, Blair. Can you forgive me for not being there with you? And for not being able to protect you? Forgive me for letting Mother do those unspeakable things to you. Forgive me for everything."
Blair's lips quiver when she says, "I forgive you, Brayden Rothchild."
🔹🔹🔹
Blair wakes up to the sound of frantic rain hitting the window. When her brain registers the unfamiliarity of the place, she jerks up and quickly crawls out of the bed. But once the memory of last night's talk with Brayden floods back in, she lets out a breath of relief. She's in Brayden's room. Her brother must have moved to their mother's bedroom after she fell asleep during their catching up.
Noticing the temperature that must have dropped by several degrees since last night, she grabs her khaki coat from the chair before making her way out of the bedroom. When she closes the door behind her, her gaze is immediately drawn to the green door at the end of the hall. Suddenly feeling weak, she leans back and closes her eyes.
Her mother's face appears in her mind: the pale complexion contrasting the fiery brown eyes as the woman began to give in to her delusions. Blair opens her eyes and shakes her head to erase the image from her head. She can't blame her mother for being sick. Her mother was also suffering, in her own way.
All she needs to do is forgive and accept her mother's situations.
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With every fiber in her body, she finally says, "I forgive you, Mother. I accept every single thing that happened in the past. I accept us."
It takes her a few minutes before she can pull herself together. She understands forgiving is a process, but it has to start somewhere. And she did it. For the first time after so many years, she voluntarily turns her gaze to the green door.
Then she smiles.
🔹🔹🔹
Deciding not to wake up her brother, Blair heads downstairs to fix some tea for herself. As she walks past the living room door, she notices something is off. The thought prompts her to step backward and check. She freezes when her eyes take in the view in front of her.
The living room is empty. All the furniture is gone. What she sees now is just a square room with a gold lamp hanging on the ceiling.
Blair is still trying to make sense of it when she hears a key jiggle in the lock of the front door. In the next seconds, the door is yanked open, revealing a woman with a small figure who is busy cussing as she quickly shuts the door behind her. The woman stops abruptly when she notices someone else's presence in the hallway.
"Who are you?" Blair asks.
"I was about to ask you the same question."
"This is my house, my family house. How did you get the key to our family house?"
"What?" The woman looks as confused as Blair. "Wait. This is your house, you said?"
"Yes. I'm Blair Rothchild. My brother, Brayden, lives here."
The woman raises her eyebrows before she breaks into a smile. "So, you're the sister." She takes a few steps closer before extending her hand. "I'm Francis Williams, the property agent who is appointed to handle your property. I know it's been a while, but I'm sorry for your loss, Ms. Rothchild."
Blair doesn't take her hand, her head busy digesting what the woman has just said. "Property agent? Wait. Has Brayden contacted you? Is he planning to sell this house?"
Francis stares at her with a blank expression before carefully saying, "Ms. Rothchild, your brother has passed away. He died in a car accident."
Blair looks at Francis as if she has gone crazy. "There must be a misunderstanding. I was with him last night."
Now it's Francis's turn to look at Blair as if she has gone nuts. "That's not possible. Mr. Rothchild died three months ago, and his aunt has to step up to take care of this house. They're planning to clean up this house and put it on the renting list due to the maintenance cost..."
Francis's voice is gradually leaving Blair's head. She doesn't understand what is going on. Brayden was talking to her last night. They spent the evening reconnecting, and for the first time after a long while, Blair embraced the feeling of having a family again, that everything was going to be okay.
Her brother is not dead.
Brayden can not be dead.
"Ms. Rothchild, they've been trying to get in contact with you since you're the legal heir to this property, but they couldn't find you. Meanwhile, your aunt needs to take some necessary steps until you come to claim what is yours..."
"This is nonsense. I need to find Brayden." Blair bolts out and runs upstairs. She pushes open her mother's bedroom door, and to her surprise, the room is as empty as the living room. Blair starts to feel dizzy, refusing to believe her own eyes.
She sprints to Brayden's bedroom. The bed she slept on last night is still there, unmade, while her trunks are sitting next to the nightstand, just exactly where Brayden put them.
"I knew it! Look, his room isn't empty. He lives here. My brother is not dead!"
"We're planning to clear up this room and the kitchen after Christmas. But first, we need to sort out all the unused furniture that is piled up on the back porch. Unless you want to decide otherwise," Francis says.
"The porch!" Blair jolts and runs downstairs. She strides to the backdoor and yanks it open, hoping that Brayden is now sitting on his reclining chair. But his brother is nowhere to be found. The porch looks exactly how she saw it last night except for Brayden's chair is no longer there.
Feeling like she's going to faint soon, Blair trudges back to the kitchen and sits down at the table where she drank the tea with Brayden last night. The cups are still there, sitting next to the cookie jar. With a shaky hand, she takes the jar and looks closely at the smiley gingerman inside the glass pot. When she notices the cookies are all moldy and have turned darker, nausea hits her stomach.
She runs to the sink and throws up. Francis, who has been following her, rushes to her and holds back her hair while Blair is emptying her stomach.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Rothchild."
🔹🔹🔹
Blair stands in front of the rusty wooden door of her childhood house. The house that she is letting go of for good now. Deep down, she knows that the memory buried within will always be a part of her. She has decided to come here to make peace with her past, and she's glad she did it.
She finally accepts the fact her brother is dead, but she believes Brayden was with her that night, and she's sure he knows that she has forgiven him.
The sound of the gravel crunching under the wheels prompts her to turn her head. A yellow cab is slowing down before it finally stops next to her. The window rolls open, revealing a man in his forties who is nodding at her.
"Ms. Rothchild?"
"Yes."
"Let me help with the bags," says the man as he gets out of the car.
While the driver is bringing her suitcases to the car trunk, Blair takes one last look at her childhood house. It's when she sees a shadow behind her mother's bedroom window. Blair smiles, knowing that her brother is watching her go with peace.
"Goodbye, Brayden."
With that, she turns on her heels. She's ready now. It's time to go home.
-END-