You can meet many people throughout the year. Some you remember fondly and still greet and see to this day. Others… Well, animosity can grow, even when one doesn’t mean it. Perhaps it is the strong scent of pine and cinnamon in the air as you walk down a snowy path, or the twinkling lights above you that glitter and dance in the dim light of sunset, somehow a sense of regret fills your heart. Whether it is the desire to forgive, or the desire to be forgiven, you feel the desire to reach out to someone you haven’t spoken to in a long time. A long overdue talk is needed. But it is up to you to respond to that burden on your heart.
Back in Destiny City. This time, for all intents and purposes, for good. The old family home up for sale was now in his name. The halls still smelled the same. The walls were still the same color. Countertops had remained unchanged. Somehow, it was like he had gone to school and come back after a long day of classes and hallway dramas. Something hung in the air around him. Not oppressive but present all the same. Like his mother's perfume after she passed through the halls. Or his father's aftershave. Or Micah's shampoo. The floorboards all still creaked in the same way. Hinges still squeaked at the same octave. His home had been like a time capsule.
Why had he bought it?
What was the point? He'd left Destiny City so that he could start over, and now here he was taking a million steps back. He was coming back to mom and dad's but at the same time... no he wasn't. He was taking back part of his past that he had given up as lost. Given up for dead.
He spent his first week back unpacking things. His home in Indiana had been a small condominium. His home had been minimalist, to begin with, but now, spread out over three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a finished basement... he felt like he had nothing at all. Misha even tried to fill in the gaps as best he could. Tried to find something to hang where his mother's spice rack had been but nothing seemed to fit. Tried to replace the cabinets but the wood never seemed right.
And now he stood, alone in a house meant for a family, and wondered what his next move was.
Without his permission or knowing, his hand pulled his phone from his pocket and began dialing. Without Rhona's new phone number, the only way he knew to reach her was the number for her farmer's market. a young woman's voice answered and he hung up.
What was he doing? Not just in this moment but back here. In Destiny City. In this house. What was he trying to prove? To gain? The life he had before? Trying to turn back the clock and relive his life over again? Make different choices? Better choices? For whom? But then he already knew that answer, didn't he?
Staring down at his phone again his mind raced. Everything that had happened. Every single event. From his earliest memory to now. Replaying every fulcrum he could until he got to this place in this moment in this room.
This time he dialed slowly, the number long since memorized from aborted call after aborted call. A voice he did not know but still felt so painfully familiar answered after two short rings.
“Farmer’s Daughter Market, how can I help you?”
“Hey, Mykes. It’s… it’s me.”
Silence.
“I-I’m sorry?” Did she sound more confused or distressed?
“It’s me -- It’s… Misha.”
Silence.
“Look I’m back in Destiny City and I… I need your help.”
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah I just… I just can’t decorate worth a s**t, you know?”
Silence. Silence that dragged against Misha’s brain like wickedly sharp nails.
And then laughter. Beautiful, clear, bright laughter from the other end.
“Are you ******** joking, right now?”
Misha laughed alongside. Or was he crying? It was hard to tell.
“Nah I’m… I’m really not. I bought a house and now I just… I dunno what to do with it.”
Tears were shed on both ends of the line. Plans were made. She said I love you. He said it back.
The new year turned over behind while Misha wasn’t looking.
