32 | in which he witnesses reunions

Meet me where the end begins,

In echoes of the past,

Where your world is me,

And my world is you.

.\.|./.

Ryan Falls

| in which he witnesses reunions |

Sometimes you think you have life right on track, and suddenly comes a storm and whips you in the opposite direction.

This girl, with her blonde hair and wide, blue eyes, with the fashion sense of a stay-at-home mom and the attitude that can go from zero to ten million in a microsecond, and with the smile that can melt my greatest resolve ... she's my storm.

LA was supposed to be my home. It was supposed to be where I would love to go, back to my family and friends, back to relive all the pleasant memories. That's just it: LA is none of that for me. Instead of being my childhood haven, it's my worst nightmare. It's the place that showed me the worst horrors imaginable. It's the place that took my sanity and nearly took my life.

I can't count all the times I thought about dying. I can't count all the times I thought death would be my only rescue. I had no one to help me get out of all the pain. I had no one who would look me in the eyes and tell me it will be okay.

I was living a nightmare, and there was no waking up from it.

Crystal wants to see her family before we go, and I drive into the narrow Alaskan streets to reach the disorganized street. The house is old but well-maintained, and getting out of the car, Crystal stands in front of the door for an uncannily long time.

I would tell her to go in, but I don't. I don't want to push her. This is her decision to make, her battle to fight. If she wants to go in, she will. If she wants to turn around and walk away, she will. As for me? I'll stand by her whether in fight or in flight.

Raising a hesitant hand, she finally rings the bell.

The scene unfolds too fast.

All I know is that the door swings open, revealing a plump woman with a headscarf and a beaded necklace around her neck. She has thick spectacles perched on her nose, through which she peeks closely at Crystal before her mouth drops open.

Next thing I know, I'm standing witness to a waterfall.

The women -- one young, one old -- have their arms wrapped around each other and the older one is sobbing hysterically, mumbling words in between that my mind can hardly make out.

"Jerry! Jerry, come see, your daughter's come back home!"

No Jerry comes to see his daughter, but the woman is too busy sobbing to care. She pulls back to take Crystal's face in her hands, kissing her on every bit of her exposed skin. It would be quite a strange sight if not for the joy on Crystal's face. She looks like she's glad she came, and that makes me happier than I have been in a while.

"How have you been, darling?" Crystal's mother asks her through the tears, shushing us inside before closing the door behind us. "Are you okay? Are you happy?"

The last question catches my attention, and apparently Crystal's too. She glances my way and our meet before she smiles slightly.

"I haven't been," she says, looking back at her mother. "But I am now."

The woman understands -- at least I think she does -- glancing my way and nodding.

"Is this a friend?" she asks Crystal.

Crystal nods.

I nod too, and smile, bowing my head slightly. "Ryan, ma'am."

"You seem like such a sweet guy," the woman says, sniffling and wiping her tears as she turns back to Crystal. "I'm so happy you're back, honey. I was worried he'd do something bad to you. That boy was always --"

"Mom, can we talk?" Crystal interrupts, and I can tell it's because she doesn't want to talk about Jeremy. "Alone?"

"Of course, honey," the woman agrees without a beat. "Make yourself at home, Ryan," she adds to me before leading Crystal away.

Crystal gestures towards a door on the left, and I take it she wants me to wait for her. I enter the small room with its brown couch and small TV set. The lights are bright and a hearty fire burning in the ancient grate that reminds me of a Christmas I always dreamed of as a child but never had. Even before dad left, we never had the traditional family time, mostly because LA doesn't have snow, and my parents were always busy pretending they didn't want to kill each other when they actually did.

Jerry turns out to be the middle-aged man sitting in the only rocking-chair in the room, placing perfectly in front of the TV. One look at him, and I know he's definitely the donor of the cell Crystal got her looks from. Unlike his wife, he's tall, handsome, and blonde. Unlike his wife, he's also curt and cold.

My mind might not have wandered back to the past if I had good company, but with Jerry ignoring my existence and the prospect of going back to LA dangling over me like a deadly sword, it's all I can think about.

A thousand thoughts run in my head, rotating and revolving. I've considered telling Crystal that we can't go to LA, but she would want to know why. I don't know if I'm ready to talk about everything yet. As for lying to crystal and driving her somewhere else, I don't want to break her trust. I'm torn between two evils, not knowing which is the lesser one.

I sit on the couch in silence, while Jerry stares blankly at the muted TV set in front of him. Seconds turn to minutes, and it's twelve minutes and twenty-seven seconds later that I hear footsteps approaching.

Yes, I was counting.

Crystal enters the living room, her puffy-eyed, blotchy-faced mother behind her.

"Mom wants us to stay for dinner," Crystal tells me. "I said we'll eat on the way. Unless you're hungry and want to ..."

I shake my head. If Crystal doesn't want to stay for dinner, I'd rather starve to death than make her stay.

She turns to look at her father, and I notice that he's still frozen in his seat. The only difference I see is that his shoulders are stiffer and his jaw clenched tighter. His fingers are curled around the arm-rest of his rocking-chair, but he's not rocking.

"Dad," Crystal speaks, and I hear the sadness in her voice even though she's quite good at hiding it.

The man doesn't move, and I have half a mind to walk up to him and shake him hard. Maybe he's paralyzed though, or maybe it's just a mannequin. The blinking of his eyes negates the second assumption, but that would make more sense than a father ignoring his daughter who had returned home after who-knows-how long.

I'm not surprised, knowing that my own mom might act the same way when she sees me.

Crystal walks up to her father, kneeling on the ground next to the chair.

"I'm sorry, dad," she says, her voice carrying across the room to me. "I know you hate me. I know I deserve it. I won't ask you to forgive me or to give me another chance. Some people don't deserve second chances. But ... I'm still sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry I wasn't the daughter I should have been."

I stand rooted to the spot, feeling like an intruder but unable to walk away. I hear sniffling behind me and can tell that Crystal's mother is crying again. No matter how much I want to reach out and comfort her, I can't.

"I'm leaving, dad," Crystal says, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I'm leaving Alaska and ... I might not come back. But I just want you to know that ... I love you. And I always will."

She reaches out and takes his hand in hers. He doesn't pull it out of her reach, and Crystal raises it to her lips, planting a soft kiss before dropping the hand and getting to her feet.

Her eyes meet mine, and I see avoidance there. She wants to run. She needs to escape. All the pain, all the guilt, all the consequences of the decisions she made when she was young and naïve.

"Cris, wait."

It's the man who speaks -- yes, he's not a mannequin -- and we all freeze. Three pairs of eyes swivel towards him to see him rising to his feet. As if in slow motion, he turns towards Crystal, holding out his arms wide.

Crystal wastes no time before rushing into her father's arms, which close around her protectively.

The woman next to me sobs harder, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle her cries. The man in front of me holds his daughter to his chest, closing his eyes and kissing the top of her head.

And I ... I watch an example of what families are supposed to be like.

Regardless of all the mistakes one makes, and despite all the heartache, this acceptance I see before me proves what people mean when they say 'blood is thicker than water'. The blood ties I see now truly are thicker than anything the world threw at them.

"Thank you," whispers Crystal's mother, and I look down at her to see her tear-filled eyes on me. She looks humbled and grateful, and it breaks my heart in two.

A mother wraps her arms around me before we leave, handing me an array of baked goods and pastries. A father also pats my shoulder, giving me a smile he has probably been saving for ages for someone worthy. A broken but close to healing girl smiles at me, taking half the stuff from my arms and leading me towards the used car for the journey we're about to begin.

For Crystal, the journey to a new life and a better future. For me, a journey to the past and perhaps destruction.

One family reunion done, one to go.

But mine won't be anything like Crystal's, and I know it.

Hers was closure. Mine will be the end.

.\.|./.

A/N: Thank you Bibliophile005 for the song recommendation. You're right, it does remind me of Crystal and Ryan too <3