Page 6 of Walking on Broken Paths

Chapter Five

Of course, now all of that old stuff was sitting on the curb in front of his house in the hopes that his junk was someone else’s treasure, and yet he still had visions of waking up in the morning to those dolls hovering above his bed.

He shuddered so violently that he swerved slightly, and the car gave him a lane departure warning.

When he arrived, he parked, grabbed the box of donuts from the passenger seat, and jogged up the porch steps. This time when he knocked, the door swung open to reveal his dad.

“Jesse! This is a nice surprise.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“Come in, come in. Oh, donuts.” Dad took the box with a smirk. “Did you bring some for yourself?”

“Ha ha.”

Dad cackled. “Tell me you’ve got a Maple Dip in here.”

“I got six and a variety of others.” As Dad headed to the kitchen, Jesse called, “Don’t eat my Chocolate Glazed.”

“Why would I eat a Chocolate Glazed when there’s Maple Dip?”

“What’s this I hear about a Maple Dip?” Mom asked, rounding the corner from the laundry room.

“Better grab one before Dad eats them all.”

She fast-walked into the kitchen.

Chuckling, Jesse followed more slowly.

Unlike the outside, the inside of the house wasn’t the same as it had been fifteen years ago.

The hallway carpeting had been replaced with grey tiling, and the walls were a soft buttery yellow several shades lighter than the Sunny Veranda Jesse had chosen for his living room.

They’d replaced the couch in the family room at some point, and the vanity in the washroom was new.

What wasn’t new was the framed family photo on the wall that divided the hallway from the family room.

The sight of it landed like a crosscheck during a high-stakes game. He stopped in front of it, a cavern of grief widening in his chest. He remembered Mikey at this age, a seven-year-old bundle of energy who was into Pokémon and basketball.

“Hey, Mikey,” he whispered, dragging his fingers lightly over his brother’s smiling face.

Wind teased the hair at the base of his neck and he turned to close the front door.

But he’d already closed it.

What—

“Why on earth would you get an apple fritter?” Dad said from the kitchen. “It’s not a real donut.”

Shaking his head, Jesse joined his parents in the kitchen. They were already halfway through a Maple Dip donut each, eating over the donut box to catch the crumbs. “The fritter’s for Parker—we’re meeting up later. He’s always liked fruity glazed things.”

Mom gave him a side-eyed glance. “I didn’t realize you two were back in touch.”

“We bumped into each other a couple days ago.” Jesse sat on a barstool. “How come you didn’t tell me he was back? Or about his dad?”

His parents exchanged a wordless look. One of those will you take this or should I kind of deals.

It was his mom who pulled the metaphorical short straw. “Sweetheart, you made it clear a long time ago that you didn’t want any news of home. And I haven’t heard you mention Parker’s name in years.”

Swallowing hard, Jesse looked out the kitchen window.

Nothing she’d said was untrue. After Mikey died, Jesse had needed a clean break from everything associated with his brother.

He’d moved to Vancouver to play junior hockey and had cut off contact with all of his friends from home.

They’d been walking on eggshells around him anyway, unsure how to talk to him, and their uncertainty had been a reminder that Jesse had experienced trauma, and that trauma’s name was Mikey Melnik.

It had been easier to start fresh, away from the constant reminders of Mikey’s life.

Of course, starting fresh at seventeen didn’t mean everything had been smooth sailing. He’d moved out west with his grief sitting over him like a blanket made of concrete, anger burning a hole through his heart, and a determination to forget.

Forget Mikey, forget home, forget that Jesse hadn’t been smart enough to see the signs that his brother was struggling.

There was no escaping grief, though. And the longer he tried, the more it turned him into a person he hadn’t recognized.

Cold ceramic grazed his forearm, startling him out of his thoughts. He looked down to find that his dad had slid a plate with a Chocolate Glazed donut in front of him. There was a glass of milk too.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when Parker’s dad died,” he said to his parents. “I know you were friends for a long time.”

“Thanks, kiddo.” Dad covered Jesse’s hand with his own, his eyes a little misty.

“Andrew was in a good place when he died, and it helps to know that he was happy. Not physically, mind you, but emotionally and mentally. He had his son home, and he had his business, which he ran as long as he could. He was surrounded by friends and loved ones. He was sad, of course, to be leaving us so soon—leaving Parker especially. But he lived a full life, and he had no regrets.”

“His burial is in a couple of weeks,” Mom said. “We weren’t able to do it in March—the ground was frozen. Will you come?”

“Yeah, I already told Parker I would, so...” Jesse shrugged.

Mom gave him a closed-mouth smile, her eyes shining. “I’m so happy the two of you have reconnected. He used to come ask about you all the time after you moved away. He seemed a little lost without you for a while.”

Sucking in a shaky breath, Jesse picked at the glaze on his donut so his parents wouldn’t see his eyes fill. A boulder sat on his chest, heavy and immovable, and he couldn’t decide if he wished his mom hadn’t told him that or if he wished she’d told him a long time ago.

Both.

Neither.

Parker had been lost without him.

And Jesse had just been... lost. Was still lost. Was still trying to climb his way back to himself fifteen years later.

“Should we get going, Tiff?” Dad asked his mom. He licked maple icing off his thumb.

“Where are you off to?” Jesse asked, his voice a croak.

“We’re having some friends over for dinner,” Dad explained. “So we need to get groceries.”

“I’ll get out of your hair then.” Jesse made to rise, but Mom waved him back down.

“Don’t rush on our account. Stay. Eat your donut.” She rounded the counter and kissed his cheek. “And you’re welcome to stay for dinner as well.”

A dinner party definitely didn’t sound like Jesse’s idea of a good time.

Mom reminded him to lock up when he left, and then they were gone, leaving him in silence and feeling disconnected from... everything. His hometown, his childhood home, and even his parents.

Leaving the donut behind, Jesse headed down the hall to what had been Mikey’s room.

The door was half closed. Jesse nudged it the rest of the way open with one finger.

It was no longer Mikey’s room. What had once been a teenager’s bedroom was now a generic guest room.

No more Nickelback posters on the wall. No more overflowing laundry basket.

No more stank of dirty gym socks. No more crusty dishes cluttering up the dresser because Mikey was too lazy to walk them back to the kitchen.

Just a double bed with a blue comforter, a nightstand, and plain grey walls.

Anger unlike anything he’d felt in years pierced his chest like a sword. How dare his parents erase Mikey like he’d never existed?

Just as quickly, the anger melted away, replaced by a wave of fatigue that almost had him sliding into the bed.

They hadn’t erased Mikey. Of course they hadn’t. Their family photo was still on the wall in the hallway. And from where he stood, he could see into Mom and Dad’s room and to the family photos that hung between the two windows.

Mikey was as much a part of their lives as he was a part of Jesse’s, but they couldn’t live with his ghost forever. Jesse couldn’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for them to clean out Mikey’s room.

Another thing for Jesse to feel guilty about—he hadn’t been here to help or support them in what could only have been a near-impossible task.

A trickle of wind teased his neck again, but there weren’t any open windows. Making a mental note to talk to his parents about sealing the draft—wherever it came from—Jesse gently closed the door on Mikey’s old room.