Looking For A Lost Memory

Penelope

KAIDEN

Full beamed headlights cause me to lift my head in alarm, the bus turns our way. I don't even need to wake up Leon, he's already up and moving. The skyline of New York grows apart in distance, illuminated buildings gradually fade out of view.

"We're coming back tomorrow, don't worry," Leon reassures.

Leon looks unsure of where we're walking to, he's holding this scrap piece of paper with the address in his hands. We approach a well-populated neighbourhood, with larger houses. I guess I was expecting 'this uncle' to live in a nice place. Leon mentioned something about him being a doctor. I start to wonder if he has any kids.

In my opinion, I think Leon is crazy for digging up information about a man we haven't seen or stayed in contact with for more than 8 years. If my Aunt Cassidy did cut him off, she must have had good reasons - especially someone who was close to our Dad.

He hesitantly stops in front of a building, the colours are painted in a professional manner, just like the rest of the houses on this block. All the lights are off. I start to wonder if anyone's inside. Silence looms around us, I'm afraid of making a sound or conversing with Leon. He walks up to the door, clear regret evident in his eyes if altogether coming was a bad idea and unsure whether to knock. Inhaling sharply, he knocks five times clearly. We wait for what feels like hours passing, the cold breeze of ending winter taking over. The door finally swings open, standing there is a man of average build, dark hair and black skin. He looks cleanly presented even though he has just woken in the middle of the night. He doesn't look annoyed, he just stands shocked for a while, frozen, like he's trying to process something. After moments of silence, I'm starting to think it was a bad idea coming here. Leon moves his mouth to say something but he decides against it and shuffles uncomfortably, running his hand through his hair. I don't blame the man standing in front of us. What else is he supposed to think, a scrawny looking kid standing next to a sleep-deprived teen show up at his front door without a warning in the middle of the night with overnight bags. He's still glaring at Leon, almost as if he recognises something about him.

"James... James' children! Leon? Hey, Leon is that you?" He asks unsure.

Leon breathes a sigh if relief, almost too tired to speak up he replies: "Yeah."

"Man. And little Kaiden. You were only this big when I last saw you"

The cool breeze hits his skin and he shivers. He ushers us inside. I'm still reluctant, but follow along. There's no point in throwing a fit on how worried I am. Even if I did, it's too late for that.

His home is empty but nicely presented, the home decorations are arranged in nice places, a bookcase full of travel books and other novels neatly organized. The way he arranges his home reminds me a little of Aunt Cassidy. I'm sure they would have got on well together.

"So what brings you to New York? Look at you both. I wouldn't be surprised if you be girls going for you Leon."

"Um...," Leon starts clearly uncomfortable. Roselyn is the last he needs to think about.

"Well, we still live with our Aunt. She doesn't know we're here by the way. I think we'd like to keep it that way..." He looks unbothered when Leon mentions her.

"That's all good. Man, you look exactly like your Dad," He says to Leon, "And you like your Mom." To me.

I think he's being genuine. He seems taken aback to see us, but he understands.

"So why are you here?" He asks.

I have to hand it to Leon, he carefully answered each question without giving everything away, he was vague and harsh. Just like me. After a while, 'Uncle' Dean understands us and notices the clear bags under Leon's eyes. He has spare rooms, more than enough room in this house to fit a family. I wonder why he lives in this empty space all on his own.

I guessed Leon would sleep straight the second he hit the bed, but he was just staring at the ceiling. Something's on his mind.

"Don't think about her." I lightly remind him.

"I'm trying. It's like, everything I do, I think. Just as much as Hirosha said. I'm trying."

I feel bad for him, he's clearly stressed by this.

"I mean, I'm over her, but I want a reason. People keep bringing it up as if they can read my mind. Did you know she tried to talk and left me a message the night you went missing? She came to our house?"

"She's just trying to get back into your head."

"Well, it's working."

He falls silent for a while. I'm about to answer him when I realize he's fallen asleep.

__________

When I was younger, my mother would always be near when I was afraid. Although I never asked for her comfort, I'd brush her off because of my pride, I would let her. When I'd wake up in a cold sweat, quivering and shaking, she would always find a way to be there.

I miss her. It's only now that I realise what missing someone means. It hurts. I don't know if I should but I don't miss my Father, I almost feel relieved that I'm no longer in his company but I have this feeling that'll see him again.

Akira is the one I miss the most though. Sometimes I think I see her, her petite frame and her silky black hair following her. I wonder if she misses me too. Other days here I don't want to see anyone. Everyone knows and notices when I need to be alone. It never stops Emily though. She's always there. Always. She's a friend I met a while ago I should be grateful for her help. 

Thank you, Emily. 

***

1st August - Brazil

I treat this as a holiday, I know I shouldn't but I guess it's all down to the change in scenery. Most of the day has been monotone, nothing to report, nothing to do. I won't be writing in this as much as I did before, I just want to focus solely on the moments I spend here. I hope to find some free time to sneak out to find Maria.

We won't be heading into the inner parts of Brasilia until tomorrow. We've been warned to keep our identity of being here unknown. I need to act like nothing is happening so no one suspects. Let's just say last year, I was found out of where I kept disappearing off to.

I need to see her. I've come too close to too many things that put my life to threat. It's become important to me to let her know how I feel. I'm going, to be honest now. When I started writing these memoirs, I made some promises to myself -

1. Be honest - no matter how hard it is to write, it's better to write about it, then keep it in my mind, it makes it easier to talk about soon. So when I look back, I know exactly I felt in that moment in time about a certain situation.

2. Write about the thing that hurt - so it's easier to let go, and I can compare the past me, to the present me.

I'm afraid she has changed. What if I see her and she has forgotten all about me? If I don't mean anything to her anymore if she has different interests? If she has grown in arrogance if she looks at my health problems and no longer wants to talk to me because I'm not good enough for her? A lot can change in a girls' heart. So can in a mans'.

Frankie is back to take us where we are staying for the next few days. It may change if we are compromised. I have to go.

***

3rd August, Let's be happy and live our youth well!

I received a postcard today from Emily. I wondered why she couldn't just write a letter since I'm the one travelling but she says its all she could find in the hospital. She's recovering well. She still doesn't know what I did, I have no idea how she'll react when she finds out.

Our welcome to Brazil was amazing. The energy here is unreal, it's in the streets, and in the people. I'm very sure I caught Frankie smiling too. I found her today. I found Maria.

But she's different. She's shyer than when I last saw her. When I see her I understand why. She's beautiful. The kind that makes you freeze in your tracks when you need to know who that person is. Her hair flows over her shoulders and has grown in length, also her face looks older. When I noticed her I was unsure if it was her until she turned my way, squinting to see if it was me, and then gave me a shy wave. I approach her and suddenly all my excitement to see and talk to her disappeared. My palms started to clam up with sweat, my hearts thudding now and I feel more unaware of my surroundings. It was strange how when the moment came, the moment I've been waiting for, I pulled back. She's more mature looking, grown in her figure and seems calmer. She's suspiciously quiet but avoids staring at me right in the eye as if she's scared. She's noticed I've grown too. I start to wonder where her full-on, cheery side has gone to. I'm sure it's still in there somewhere. I thought maybe the crowds were intimidating her so we go to a quiet place and sit on beer crates away from everyone, so it's just me and her.

We talk. Slow and awkward at first but soon we grow in confidence and talk as if we've known each other forever. I only see Maria once a year, in the month of August. This is how it has been for 3 years. But I remind her of past things, she begins to withdraw again, nervous to speak. She seems hesitant and I know something is disturbing her. When I ask she says 'It's just personal things, I'm okay, it's not you.' I show her my writing to calm her down, her eyes light up when she sees it. Maria likes them.

__________

4th August - 01:23 AM

I knew something was on her mind. I was right. After it goes quiet and everyone leaves, she pulls back to our quiet place and tells me everything on her mind all in a rush. I did not expect to hear anything she told me. How she feels afraid in her own skin, how she feels targeted by many in the area she lives in. She explains how she got caught up in the wrong crowd and attached to the wrong people. Everyone knows her name and she doesn't know how to escape. Maria kept repeating the same words, 'I'm a bad person, you don't want to be around someone like me, I'm a disgrace.' I deserve death.' But she wouldn't tell me what she had done. People are after her now.

She tells me her mind has gone to darker places and keeps going back. She doesn't know how to stop the voices in her head, how suddenly she doesn't feel good enough, worth the time, worth anything. I want to find the person who has torn her apart and made her feel this way. I want them gone. I understand how she feels, it just seems unreal to hear those words from her.

Maria tells me how grateful she is to have me here, to come back, and how I'm a good person to her. I reassure her and tell her everything's going to be okay, but she doesn't believe me.

I go against the instructions given to us by Frankie and give her the address of the place I am currently staying at, a number to call for any time she needs to talk when it's getting too much for her to handle.

***

10th August

Slow entries in here lately. We've been pretty busy, she still hasn't called me, and I haven't seen her since our conversation. I'm certain she's avoiding me. I try my best to make sure my desperation doesn't get the better of me, but when I saw a free moment, I went out looking for her. She seemed in such a bad state the last time I saw her. As I was walking back I saw a poster amongst the flood of other posters for missing persons, only to find her cheerful face there. It looked outdated but I stood there in disbelief until a man saw me staring, crossed the road and approached me.

"Have you seen her?" He asks.

"No."

"Beautiful girl, isn't she?"

If only he knew the crafty, manipulative, mischief behind than smile.

He exhaled smoke from his nostrils heavily. Cuban cigar.

"Yes, she is," I say.

"You looked like you recognized her."

"What happened to her?"

"She's the daughter of one of the richest government officials, she went missing two weeks ago, ran away from home."

I had to keep my facial expression under control as well as my anger, shock and disappointment or else he would know. That's when I realized, I never asked Maria where her home was. I always assumed she was from the houses nearby. That was the problem... I assumed.

He comes close to my face and says: "If you see her, you know where to find me."

I never saw his face because of his hat shadowing his eyes, but I recognized the voice.

__________

"What do you call this?" I waved the poster in her face and placed it down. She looked up at me in confusion knowing I knew the truth.

"Let me see."

"Why do you have to lie to me? What do you think I am?"

"It's not what you think. I can't go home. Not yet." Maria says.

"Why? You know what don't even... I don't want to hear it. Promise me at the end of the week you're going home."

She looked at me with deep regret, not wanting to make that promise, but she gave in seeing have upset I was.

"Fine."

__________

22nd August

I should feel something. Why don't I feel anything?

Penelopé. That was her middle name. She never told me this. Why didn't you tell me, Maria? If I had the chance again, I would have told her it was a beautiful name.

Maria Penelopé Gonzalez was murdered. Her death was confirmed in the early hours of Wednesday at 2:23 am. Her cause of death was a gunshot wound just underneath the shoulder where the main artery was severed, therefore she bled to death.

She passed away in my arms.

I was so sure she was going to be okay. I told her she was going to be okay. It was slow and painful. The pain was present on her face. She couldn't speak, she just kept shaking and stuttering on her words while her body was motionless.

She told me she loved me. Maybe she told me in a panic because she knew she wouldn't get another chance to tell me. Maybe it was out of fear. I tell myself she doesn't know the meaning of those words. It's delusional. But I don't believe myself.

I know the man who killed her.

__________

KAIDEN - The page which gives the details of what exactly happened are torn out and so are previous multiple pages, I look around to try to find the missing pages but I risk waking up Leon. Instead, I turn over and continue reading.

27th August

People expect me to be silent, heartbroken. To feel something, I should feel something. But I don't. I'm glad don't. The days have been frankly nothing, monotone.

It's quiet around here.

The pain on my face is still present. I wonder what exactly he did. This searing pain, my face throbbing without control. I want a mirror to see the damage, but from the expressions of people as they pass silently, I know what they mean.