Bad Memory

~Welcome Home~

I didn’t tell anyone about the message the man had given me. For one thing, I wasn’t convinced it even happened – it could have been part of a dream or a hallucination from the drugs. And the more I thought about it, the more that explanation made sense.

But even if the Shadows wanted me back, I wasn't the same reckless girl I had been. I was bound now, and I had no intention of leaving my home without a companion. They wouldn't even have an opportunity to take me.

No, my life was going to be wonderful and simple. That’s why the minute the doctor told me I could go, I hopped out of bed, followed Ezra to his truck, and stared out the window as he drove us home.

Ezra told me it was June, but seeing a canopy of leaves where I felt as though I had just seen snow-covered branches was jarring. As we drove, I noticed a few changes: buildings demolished, new ones built…but as we drove further, nothing looked familiar. I had never gone this far outside the city before.

When we finally pulled into Ezra’s driveway, I wondered again if I was living in a fantasy. Soft, green grass blanketed the ground, shaded by the yard’s centerpiece: an enormous sycamore tree.  I imagined sitting on the small front porch while I watched our kids play on a tire swing and climb the tree’s branches.

The house itself was a cozy one-story. Ezra suggested on the drive over that we could eventually sell it for a down payment on a mansion to fill with our children. I wanted a family big enough to need the extra space, but now I was thinking of ways to build on to this existing structure so we wouldn’t have to move. My parents had a mansion, but it was sterile, cold, and unfriendly. Ezra’s residence may have been modest, but it oozed charm and warmth.

“I’m supposed to carry you over the threshold,” Ezra said as we got out of the car and walked towards the front door. “But I’m guessing you’re still sore from the hospital.”

“I’m okay,” I insisted.

My body was still in pain, but I wasn’t going to let that stop us from fulfilling a marital tradition.

Ezra drew his lips together tightly. “Do you remember the promise you made me?”

His implied accusation caused me to stop abruptly. I had just broken the only promise I had made to my husband only a couple of days into our marriage. But lying came easily to me. Honesty didn't.

“I am still sore,” I admitted. “But not so sore that I don’t want you to carry me into the house.”

Ezra smiled. “Was that so hard?”

Yes.

But rather than lie again – or worse, tell the truth and prompt even more questions – I stayed silent.

Ezra lifted me into his arms with ease, cradling me against his chest as he stepped over the threshold.

The inside of the house matched the outside: cozy and quaint. My gaze was immediately drawn to a fireplace in the corner of the living room. Would Ezra and I snuggle near it as we watched the snow fall outside in the winter? He didn’t seem physically affectionate, but maybe he would warm to me. If he was truly indifferent, he wouldn’t have waited four years for my return.

I walked to the fireplace and picked up the lone picture on the mantle: a couple smiling at each other, lost in the other’s eyes. Just viewing the photograph felt like intruding on a private moment.

“My parents,” Ezra said.

I placed the picture back gently. “They look so happy. When can I meet them?”

The somber expression on Ezra’s face answered my question.

“The parasite,” he explained. “I was 9. I went to school, and when I got home, they were already in quarantine.