Going Home

Esperanza gasped, but then the stepmom walked in between them, shielding the young woman. Her eyes grew wide at Milan. “Don’t speak to my daughter ever again.”

Milan raised both hands as if backing off. He didn’t move away, though. That was why the mother only ushered Esperanza away from him instead. The man watched them as they left with brisk steps, the mother cursing him at every glance she gave him.

At that, Milan sighed and took out his phone. There was another text from Mauve as if she had just woken up. He smiled and sat down, his fingers patting the screen to reply immediately.

Soon enough, Milan finished his business in the Registry Office. Even if his mother had been dead for around four days now, this was the first time someone was able to do something about the legalities and the funeral. Only family members were allowed to do so, and Florence didn’t want to do something about it. After all, Milan was heading home.

Milan found himself standing in front of the old, broken home of the Sheppards. It was the same house where Milan and Florence were normally beaten up by their drunk father and starved by their lethargic mother. If the good Aunt Stephanie didn’t invite the two kids to stay with her kids, Milan and Florence might not even see food for days.

The bitter memories of the old house plagued Milan’s mind as he used the key given to him by Corbin. Florence completely dropped responsibility for this, but everyone didn’t fault her for it. She was truly traumatized by what happened.

“I don’t even feel nostalgic walking inside…” Milan snorted as he opened the door.

He followed the path that led straight to the kitchen. The room to the left was the staircase, while the one to the right led to the family room. The dining table was at the further end of that room, connected to the kitchen through another door. He could also remember a pantry on the other side of the kitchen. The rooms on the second floor were the bedrooms and the bathroom. It was a rather simple house.

Perhaps the best thing about it was the huge yard. Milan made his way to the kitchen and exited through the backdoor. It showed him a dirty and dilapidated backyard filled with loose earth and an unattended jungle of a garden. The trusty shed lay at the other end of the yard, safe from the horrors of the house.

Instead of the bedrooms, Milan remembered staying in the shed more delightful. He jogged to the shed and opened the creaky door, taking in the whiff of stagnant air. He coughed at the nauseous smell and covered his nose as he stepped inside.

“Have they not cleaned this place ever since I left?” Milan stared at the moldy floor bed at the side of the big shed. He remembered sleeping on that smelly mattress with Florence during nights they should not show up to their father. Since their mother did nothing to fight or stop the man, they were always left to their own devices.

“I wonder when was the last time Florence had gone here.” Milan chuckled as he kneeled to pat the unusable bed. It was still as firm as he remembered. However, he noticed how yellowed paper peeked from under the pillows.

He got on the bed and ripped the moss and mold off the fabric that hardened. He slowly and gently collected the paper. Sitting on the bed like he didn’t care about hygiene, Milan grew more interested in the letters tucked under the pillows.

It was Florence’s handwriting; it was her letters to his brother. However, they never reached him because their mother was barred from contacting their father. She couldn’t find out where he lived, where the letters should be mailed to reach Milan.

“…I… I didn’t know…” Milan murmured as he browsed the letters. It was a collection of letters from ten years. It really looked like Florence was so eager to speak to him, but her interest degraded when Milan never wrote back.

Moreover, she often wrote about how their mother acted like she didn’t exist. Florence was not allowed to be spoken to by a lot of people, and even Stephanie found it hard to take the girl out of their house. Perhaps when Roma fell ill and got physically restricted, that was the only time Florence had to go out of the house to buy food and attend to the two of them.

That was also around the time the Cliffords brought Internet to their place. Corbin bought an old computer for Corey, and she studied it to enjoy what the richer people did. Soon enough, Milan found them on social media.

“No wonder Florence sounded like she hated me when we first reconnected online.” Milan sighed and collected the letters to take them with him. He wanted to read all of them when he was free. For now, he needed to find a place to set the funeral.

The weather was not clear yet, but they did get a sunny morning before a rainy afternoon. Milan had to work on clearing out the family room to accommodate the casket and the guests. As for making that room unusable anymore, who cared? He was not going to ask Florence to live there anymore. She wouldn’t be asked to stay in the village, either.

When he looked at the heavy things to be moved around and the cleaning he had to do, Milan ended up taking out his phone. He stared at the new number on his list and laughed. “I hope your muscles are not for show. I’m not carrying all of this on my own.”

…

Knocking came on the main door, and Milan went to open it for the person who came. Owen smiled at the other person, Milan making a rather embarrassed face. He was let in. “I doubt the two of us would be enough to get everything done before lunch.”

“Corey is looking after Florence, and Corbin is working diligently. I only have you.” Milan laughed and scratched his head. He had already taken off his jacket to start with the cleaning, but he was still useless against carrying furniture.

“All right.” Owen removed his jacket as well, letting his shirt show off the muscular arms that Milan figured he had. “Should I move the table? You look like you’re clearing out this place first.”

“Yeah, it’s closer to the backdoor.”

Milan grabbed the broom and pan to ready himself to clean, but he was not ready to find Owen carrying the table on his own. Those arms were even looking to rip the sleeve open. Milan’s grip on the broom tightened. The heat on his cheek threatened to take over, but the newcomer had to calm down.

They just met today. It was too early.