The Attic

“All my life you have been choosing everything for me. The clothes I wear, the food I eat, people who I hang out with, even what subjects should I study at school. Everything. You control my life. Like you own me.

But now, I’m gonna put a stop to all of this. I have my own identity. I should have the freedom to choose my path.”

Elijah was at the end of his rope, always doing what his father told him to do. He was just another American teen who was growing up in a household with parents who were strict and whose religious and cultural values were at odds with his lifestyle. It had been festering inside him for a long while.

“It was for your good. We always wanted the best for you”, his mother tried to calm him down.

“And what good did I get from studying medicine? Can’t you see, I’m failing. You never let me follow my dreams and the profession that matched my passion. But just because you don’t approve, I’m not giving in. Nothing can make losing my potential worthwhile. Nothing.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have failed if you had studied half the time you spent with those street boys. I warned you they are a bad influence.”

“Those street boys are my friends for God’s sake. We just make music. It’s our passion. But why would you care? You only care about yourself, your values, your God, and whatever salvation you are seeking.”

“Don’t you dare say another word.” His father was livid, seethed, and certainly devastated.

“Get out of my house. Leave, right now.

“There’s no place for a non-believer here. Do not come back. Ever.” He dragged him out of the house and shut the door.    

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“Mia? Mia, hurry up. We are getting late.”

“Just a minute, Mom,” Mia shouted from her room.

“Hurry up or I’ll leave without you.”

“No, you won’t. Grandma will be furious and you don’t want that. Do you?”, asked Mia with a naughty smile.

“Get in the car now, Miss favorite.”

It was their yearly ritual to have thanksgiving dinner at grandma’s house. Grandma would cook the meal and the three ladies will sit at the table, eat and talk about what’s happening in everyone’s life. Only, this year some other people from grandma’s socializing club were also invited.

When they reached there, grandma asked them to help her set the table.

“Mia. Honey, can you please get me the china box form the attic?”, grandma asked her.

“Sure, grandma.”

She went to the attic. There were a lot of boxes. Which box is it, she wondered? She started checking boxes. One box had an old nickel-plated coffee pot. Another had glassware. Then there was a box full of guitar magazines and music sheets covered in dirt. In another box, there were posters of rock bands and some old rusty newspapers. There was another box with some notebooks and a journal. She opened it up, it was filled with guitar drawings and some lyrics. The handwriting seemed familiar. She felt like she had already seen that handwriting but couldn’t remember where.  

“Mia. What is taking you so long? Hand over the box. Quick”. She quickly moved the other boxes and pulled out the box with china turkey serving platters in it. While she was handing over the box to her mother, she was constantly thinking about the “Poets of the Fall” poster. So, instead of going downstairs, she came back to get the poster. Suddenly, something caught her attention.

 It was a photo album with an antique rare burgundy velvet cover. There were photos of her grandparents, parents, and probably some relatives she didn’t recognize. In one of the pictures, her grandmother was holding a cute baby boy. Then there was a family portrait, grandpa, grandma, mom, and who is that? She was confused. She hadn’t seen him before. In another picture, her mother was laughing, her head thrown back and hair flying wild in the wind. A boy was standing next to her. His arm slung across her shoulder and he’s smiling at the camera.  The boy was in every other picture but she didn’t know who he was. She took out that picture from the album and went downstairs.

After dinner when everyone left, they were sitting in the living room. She asked her mother about the boy in the photograph.

“Nobody. Its nobody. Where did you find this?”, she was acting weird.

“But he is in every picture, with you and grandma. What are you hiding?”

“Grandma…”. She turned towards her only to see her pale wet face.

“Stop it, Mia. Go to your room. Now.”

Her mother said in a stern tone as she dabbed at her tears with the hem of her sleeve. Mia couldn’t understand. She was puzzled and worried. She didn’t know her question would make her mother and grandma cry. But one thing was crystal clear, they were hiding something from her. The boy in the pictures was the missing piece of the puzzle.

*******************

                It had been a week since thanksgiving dinner but things were still uptight. She didn’t know what baggage her mother and grandma were carrying but it was pretty serious. So, she didn’t want to set them off on the deep end by asking again. Mia was trying to let go off all the obsessive thinking, trying to solve the mystery of the boy in photos but the curiosity was exhausting and intimidating or it might just be her addled brain playing tricks on her.

                A week later, Mia was cleaning her room. She found some pieces of paper, a pile of old notebooks, and a cute little purple box with a ribbon under her bed. She opened the box. It had some pictures of her father. A bracelet he bought for her with a matching scrunchie. There was also a birthday card. She opened the card and there it was. It had the same handwriting. She tried to recall who gave this to her. Last year on her sixteenth birthday, she received a present and this birthday card in a parcel. There was no name on it so she didn’t know who sent her that. But now, her brain was working fast. She looked up on the internet and find out the contact number of the company who delivered the parcel.

She didn’t know if it was an epiphany or just a need for answers. In an hour, she was knocking at a door. A man opened the door.

“May I help you?”

She kept looking at him. Same brown hair and dark eyes.

“Miss?”, he found her stare unusual.

“Ermm… do you know the person in this photograph?”, Mia handed him the picture.

He looked at the picture for a while and then looked back at Mia. Her eyes were fixed on him like she was trying to read his face.

“Come inside.”

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                He was standing there shaking, not knowing what to say. For a split second, he stared at grandma and then grabbed her in a never-letting-go hug. They were crying and grandma was kissing all over his face. She couldn’t believe she’d see him again. For hours they cried their hearts out piecing history together, unlocking the door to the past.

“I never wanted to leave you, mom. But dad didn’t want me in his house. I was so mad at him that I promised myself I’ll never come back. I thought he hated me. There were times when I crumbled like a sandcastle and wanted to come back to you running but I couldn’t muster up the courage. I thought he would never open the door. I thought I’d someday be beyond the bewilderment of grief but my grief and remorse were bone-deep.”

“He was your father; he could never hate you. He loved you, Elijah.”

“I’m so sorry, mom. Please forgive me. Please, mom. I love you so much.”

He was crying bitterly. So were Mia and her mother.

“Now, come here you cry baby. I missed you too. You didn’t even say goodbye to your sister.” Mia’s mother hugged him.

Mia tried to comfort her grandma by wrapping her arms around her. This reunion flipped a switch and they were all flooded with mixed feelings of nostalgia, happiness, and grief.