21 Brook Street

10 ◇◇ Present ◇◇

Present

Of course. Here was the reason. 21 Brook Street. Fate which drew Sylvia to Isaac, didn't draw her to him at all, but here.

"A man died here on a Wednesday." she said. They were just about to cross the street and were standing right on that spot.

"Pardon?" Isaac turned in surprise. The kids were already running across the street.

"Nevermind." Sylvia smiled.

She took a shaky step towards the house.

At long last.

Nothing seemed to have changed for all those years. The willow tree from next door still hung over the fence, the little birdbath still stood in the centre of the garden ordained by branches of thorns which in the summer would turn to roses. The same cracks in the garden path. The same green netting fencing between the neighbours. The same rough brown brick.

Sylvia drew a breath.

The same doormat.

"You coming in?" Isaac asked.

Sylvia smiled and walked in.

The same wallpaper. Still. The smooth polished wood of the banister. The same floorboards. How many times has she crossed this hallway before? She unzipped her boots and let her feet explore the familiar kinks and bumps of the floor as she followed Isaac into the kitchen.

Nothing changed, the kitchen was only enhanced by calendars, drawings and rubbish. And an alien figure in the middle of it all.

"And who's this Isaac?"

"Sylvia. Sylvia, this is my mum."

Mum. Mother.

"Pleasure to meet you." Sylvia held out her hand.

"You too." she replied somewhat confused but pleasant. "Cup of tea?"

"Please."

"Isaac, go check on the boys please they seem to be up to no good in the garden again."

Isaac left his mum and Sylvia chatting. Sylvia could see him outside chasing after the boys, but chose instead to engross herself in the past. She was only occasionally disturbed by a remark from Isaac's mum, which was easily brushed off with a polite grin or sigh of agreement.

Right there, between the coffee machine and toaster is where she used to sit, cheekily crossing her legs and grinning at the fact she wasn't being told off for sitting on the counter. The countless times she poked her head in the fridge and upon closing it felt his presence behind her. Sylvia did not dare evaluate her emotions at this point, but simply recollect. She bathed herself in memories. Christmas, Easter, birthday. Everything flashing before her eyes. She kept her eye on the kitchen door, expecting him to return any second. All it would take was the right sound or smell and she would believe she was with him again.

"Here ya go" Isaac's mother said politely.

"Thank you" Sylvia smiled. What was this woman doing here? This was not a mother's home. This was not a family home. This was Uncle Thomas' home.

At this time Isaac stepped in.

"Pair of bastards."

"Isaac!" his mother exclaimed.

"Sorry, I forget that's me." he said bitterly.

His mother thrashed some pans about in the sink. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

Sylvia watched Isaac run a hand across his face.

"Sorry ma." he said and hugged her from behind.

Sylvia felt bile rise up in her mouth.

5 maybe 6 years ago, this was her and Uncle Thomas. Right there: Sylvia washing up and Uncle Thomas hugging and helping her.