Echoes of a Misjudged Life

On New Year's Eve, the smell of a roast in the oven drifted through the house.

My grandmother walked over to me, with an old photograph in her hand, the edges worn soft with age.

"Is Zack almost home?"

My throat tightened. It had been three years. She could never remember that my younger brother was long gone.

I was the one who picked up his ashes.

At that moment, my phone rang. The moment I saw the name on the screen, the blood in my veins seemed to freeze.

I stepped out onto the balcony before answering, keeping my voice low.

"What is it?"

The voice on the other end of the line trembled. "It's been three years. Are you still angry? I've been waiting for you to come home. Our son has, too. We're downstairs."

Downstairs?

I walked over and looked down to see a tall figure and a small one standing together.

Through my phone, my son's voice came with a catch in his throat, saying, "Daddy…"

My thoughts snapped back into place.

I said flatly, "We've been divorced for a long time. He said he didn't want to stay with me."

Then, I hung up without another word.

My grandmother's hand was really cold. So cold it sent a shiver down my spine.

She went in closer toward me with a child-like wonder in her eyes.

"Zack is coming back, right? I heard it on the phone. Is he giving me a surprise?"

My heart tightened. It felt as if someone were squeezing it hard.

Zack and I had grown up without our parents. We survived on scraps because our grandmother raised us by scavenging trash.

She always said, "Once you two are old enough, I will finally get to enjoy my life."

The day Zack passed, he had sent me a message.

[Miles, I bought Grandma a red wool sweater. It will surely look good on her.]

Later, all I received was a bag. Inside was that red sweater, still with the tags on.

That was when our grandmother started losing her mind.

The doctor said it was too much of a shock. Alzheimer's.

I thought maybe forgetting the painful things was not entirely bad.

"Zack is working late. I told you, right? He's working extra on New Year's Eve; he'll get paid much more."

I held her hand and hugged it. She nodded and subconsciously played with my shirt pocket.

"Oh, yes. Zack said he was going to buy me new clothes, too."

My throat tightened so much that it hurt. I clenched my fists, unable to say a single word.

The red wool sweater was still in the bottom drawer of my closet. I did not dare to take it out.

Right at that moment, a knock came on the door.

Opening the door, cold air blew in.

My mother-in-law, Helen Morte, stood in the dimly lit corridor with a box of cake. She smiled at me.

"Miles, about your brother… Gemma was wrong. But so many years have passed. You should let it go. You and Gemma have a son together. They are waiting for you to go home."

I looked at her as she opened her mouth. Yet, I heard nothing. All I heard was a buzzing.

"Let it go? Gemma killed Zack because of her friend. You want me to just let it go?"

Helen's face paled.

I continued, saying, "I will never forgive her in this life. She can stop dreaming."

Then, I slammed the door in her face. Returning to my room, I leaned against the door and slowly slumped to the floor.

In the living room, my grandmother was still humming Zack's favorite nursery rhyme when he was little.

I lowered my hands and retrieved the photo from my pocket. It was taken on the day of Zack's graduation. He was wearing a cap and gown, grinning stupidly at the camera.

I pressed the photo to my chest.

"Zack, I'm sorry. I'm so useless. I can't make the people who hurt you pay the price. But I will never forget about it. One day, I'll avenge you!"

…

I did not sleep all night.

At dawn, I took the trash downstairs while the morning fog still had not cleared.

Someone suddenly grabbed me by the wrist. The trash bag fell onto the ground.

Gemma was standing there with her eyes bloodshot. She looked rather disheveled.

"Miles, let's talk."

Our son, Dash, got out of the car from the back passenger seat. He walked over to me and tugged at the hem of my shirt.

"Daddy, come home."

His words were like needles prickling my heart.

I gently pried his fingers off me before bending down to look him in the eye.

"Dash, I'm not your daddy."

His eyes instantly reddened.

I merely looked at him coldly. Back then, he said he did not want me as his father, so why was he so sad?

I shrugged Gemma's hand off me.

"I have nothing to say to you. We were over three years ago."

She was trembling.

"He saved my life. I had no choice back then. Miles, I promise you. I will treat you well in the future."