A Past Performance (3)

Confusion.

Suspicion.

Curiosity.

But most of all, an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Though, rather than being the guest, this time, I was the host. It’s strange that I don’t know who I’m inviting in, but the analogy doesn’t make much sense anyway.

Oh yeah, where did Ana go? She disappeared when I glanced over towards the entrance, but it wasn’t hard to figure out where she went. I mean, the light shining from underneath the bathroom door gives it away.

“Ana? Do you know what’s going on?”

She didn’t answer, or more likely she intentionally ignored me. I could hear her shuffling around, doing who knew what. It’s probably my subconscious telling me to go answer, but I do have a sliver of doubt since she acts like this in the real world too.

I let out a tired sigh as I trudged over. Normally, I would feel uncertain or apprehensive, but Ana’s antics had completely drained that out of me. It was like a false sense of confidence taped onto my back. Wait, isn’t that just bullying? I never know with her.

Whatever, let’s just get this over with–

“Oh,” slipped from my mouth as I looked at the man and woman standing outside the apartment. Their eyes bore holes into the floor, only occasionally meeting my gaze for a brief moment before turning away. Their expressions were a jumble of excitement and relief overshadowed by pain and resignation. It seemed like they were about to say something, but the words caught in their throats, not that I was any better.

After all, these were the last people I expected to see.

“Um, well, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” the man eventually spoke, putting his hand out too far to shake. He retracted it just as quickly, clenching his fist as if he had done something wrong. Still, it was a lot more than I expected after everything we had been through. They had taken the first step – well, half a step. It was only right that I did the same.

“Would you like to come in?” There was no need for greetings nor pleasantries. No need to ask how the other was doing. It was plain to see from the distance between us. Even as I invited them in, the two were hesitant, uncertain whether they had the right to do so. Words were easy in the grand scheme of things. Backing them up with actions was the hard part. But for me, for some reason I didn’t understand, I found myself reaching out my hand once again.

“Mom, dad,” I said, addressing them for the first time in a long while. They both jumped, tilting their head upwards, finally seeing eye-to-eye. I could better see how much the years had worn, but neither of them had given up on living. So, with a slight nod, I motioned for them to enter.

And then, they took that first step.

And the second.

And the third, all the way to the living room sofa. Meanwhile, I took a spot on the opposite side. I had to face them properly.

There was plenty to talk about. After all, we hadn’t really seen each other since my sister passed. Yet we sat there in silence, unsure how to begin, or rather what to say.

“...how are you doing?” my mother eventually spoke up, broaching a question we already knew the answer to. The exact same question that I chose not to answer last time. But now…

“Pretty bad,” I finally admitted, letting the weight fall off my chest. I had realized the despair – the downward spiral I was stuck in – a long time ago. It wasn’t easy to escape, and I never really made any effort to. With this false confidence though, I felt like I could peek outside and accept it, just a tiny bit.

“...I’m no different,” she confessed. Her wistful smile contained a multitude of things she wanted to say. To ask. To talk about. However, she chose not to. Neither of us hated or blamed each other for what happened that day. Even if we noticed the signs, none of us thought she would actually go through with it. But because of it, we drifted apart, trying to deal with the pain and guilt in our own way.

“You know, we…” my dad started to speak, but stopped. Still, I understood what he was trying to convey.

“I know.” They didn’t leave because of their own remorse, nor because they needed to abandon me. No, it was simply a parent’s love, trying to do what they thought was best. I was suffering, and anything they said would’ve probably made it worse. They left to give me space to process and calm down. That’s why this awkward silence felt comforting, in a way.

The minutes ticked by as we enjoyed each other’s company, not that we did anything but look around every once in a while. Honestly, if it wasn’t for this otherworldly experience, I didn’t think I would be sitting here. Everything that happened forced me to go one step further, one step towards the dot of light in the sea of gray.

Oh, maybe that’s why…

“I think it’s time for us to go,” my dad said.

“...are you sure?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t like they couldn’t stay any longer, but no matter how much I wished, these weren’t my real parents. They were only the vestiges of my subconscious, trying to tell me something. If they had to leave, they had to leave. I had to accept that.

They both got up from the sofa – my mom touching my shoulder, my dad slightly tussling my hair. We did not say goodbye, nor did I watch them leave. There wasn’t any need to.

I wasn’t sure whether I would be able to make up with my real parents. Although our relationship wasn’t irreparably damaged, it would take a long time to repair. Still, this farewell gave me hope, one both of sadness and anticipation, such that, even then, I could take that first step forward.