Thirty Years Ago: A Glimpse into the Past

Thirty years ago I can still see my mothers eyesfull of hopelessness, pleading. Margaret never said a word of reproach to me, yet from that day I felt the bond between us snap. She seemed to despise me, silent and cold.

***

I slammed the suitcase shut, shoving the last hastily folded cardigan inside. The zipper stuck, refusing to close.

What are you going to do about it? I muttered, slamming my weight onto the case.

A knock at the door made me jump.

Bob those endless farewell speeches again, I thought, irritated.

Sure enough, Bob stood there, a wilted bouquet of roses in his hands.

Portsmouth again? he asked, not bothering to hide his true feelings.

Yes, Bob, once more, I replied, softening my tone.

I knew how heavy it was for him. And it was heavy for me, too Mick.

Laura, how long will this go on? You know this is madness, Bob said, searching for words that wouldnt hurt. Youre living in a past thats destroying you.

What am I supposed to do? I blurted. Forget? Tell myself, Its only a brother, he vanished thirty years ago, who cares? Is that what you want?

If you strip away the niceties thats exactly it. Thats what he wanted.

I just want you to be happy, Laura. To live in the present. To allow yourself to get married, perhaps.

I lowered my gaze. I loved Bob in my own way; he was reliable, caring, patient. But Mick Mick was the ache that never healed.

I cant, Bob. I simply cant. Until I find Mick, I cant move on, I whispered.

Youll never find him, Laura! Bob snapped. Thinkthirty years have passed! Even if hes alive, he wont recognise you. He could be in a childrens home, have lost his memory, been adopted, grown up in a different family, a different life. Hed be a different person!

Bob avoided any other possibilities where Mick might still be alive. Those thoughts were terrifying.

No! I shook my head. Its Mick. Ill find him. I feel it.

Bob handed me the roses.

Then goodbye, Laura. What we had was a fiction, not a relationship.

I took the bouquet, feeling something inside snapmy feelings, once more. I knew I was losing Bob, but I could do nothing.

Goodbye, Bob, I whispered, closing the door behind him.

I sat on the stubborn suitcase Id been lugging across the country, still wrestling with the jammed zipper, and didnt notice the tears slipping down my cheeks.

Why, Mick? Why did it all turn out like this? I asked my brother in my head, the one whose face and voice seemed to fade. At seven I could barely stand Mick; he stole my freedom and attention. Summer in the village was supposed to be a child’s paradiseriver, woods, friends, latenight games. But for me, it was Mick: forever sulky, forever clinging.

Laura, go play with your brother, mother Margaret would say. It isnt hard.

It was hardso hard! I wanted to run to the river with Dan, Pete and Sally, to build forts in the woods, to simply be a child. Instead I had to push a pram with Mick down dusty lanes, listening to his endless ahgoo complaints.

One day Dan suggested crossing to the far bank of the river, where an abandoned mill was said to be haunted. Nobody believed in ghosts, but the idea of exploring unknown places thrilled us.

Laura, come with us! Dan pleaded. Just you, no Mick.

I looked at Mom with hope.

No, Laura, Margaret cut in. Either with your brother or stay at home.

I clenched my teeth. Everything was infuriating. It wasnt life at all.

But I took Dans hand

That day on the opposite bank we laughed, shrieked, played tag in that crumbling mill. I barely participated; Mick was always there, slowing me down. When I finally let go of his hand for a moment to retrieve a yellowed, cracked ball from under a concrete slab, I turned back and Mick was gone.

My voice cracked as I called for him. The other kids searched, but Mick had vanished.

The police, parents, neighboursall scoured the river, the woods, every house. They questioned anyone who might have seen something. Still, Mick was nowhere.

I remembered my mothers desperate eyes again. Margaret never scolded me, yet I felt the day she stopped looking at me was the day she lost me. She seemed to hate me, silent and cold.

A year later Margaret couldnt bear it any longer.

My father, George, tried to stay upbeat, working hard and cheering me up, but he was broken too. I watched him age, heard the clink of empty bottles in his room. He never drank in front of me, but when I fell asleep hed sneak a new bottle and uncork it. I never slept through it.

When I grew up, finding Mick became my sole purposea debt, a redemption, a chance to reclaim what? Him or myself?

***

The plane touched down in Portsmouth. I stepped out of the terminal, a slight tremor running through me. Portsmouth is a lovely city, but I had no time for its charms. I was there for Mick.

I was convinced he was here.

Every town I visited, I held that certainty. It was relentless.

The message Id received spoke of a man working at the local dock, whose face resembled a grainy photograph of Mick taken decades ago, and a sketch of what Mick might look like as an adult. The photo was blurry, but something clicked for meit could be him.

At the airport I was met by Andrew, the source of the tip.

Thank you for coming, I said, shaking his hand. Im grateful.

I hope Ive not wasted your time, Andrew replied. Ill take you to him. Hes refused to speak to me, but perhaps seeing you will change that. They say kin feel each others presence.

We drove in silence. I stared out at the unfamiliar countryside.

Finally we arrived at the docks parking lot. Andrew stopped the car; the rest was a short walk.

There he is, he said, pointing to a man rummaging under the bonnet of an old Toyota.

I looked at him. He had the same light hair, the same blue eyes, and something indefinable that made my heart freeze.

Mick? I whispered.

He startled, wiping his hands on a dirty rag, then straightened up. I realised instantly this wasnt him. Still, I didnt want to admit it.

Do I know you? he asked, eyeing Andrew behind me. Andrew, whats going on?

Tears welled up.

Mick, its me, Laura, your sister, I blurted, even though I knew the truth would never be that simple.

Sister? I have no sister. Andrew, is this a joke? Ive told you I have no relatives.

There is! I lunged, grabbing his wrists. Mick, you dont remember? We played by the river. You were two and a half, I was seven. You dont recall?

He stepped back.

Im sorry, I dont understand. If this is a prank, its not funny. My name is Ian. I grew up in a childrens home. I havent seen my family since I was four. Im certain I never had a sister named Laura.

But you look like Mick! I cried. Same eyes, same hair!

Maybe, he shrugged. There are plenty of lookalikes. Im sure Ive been mistaken before. But Im not your brother.

I didnt want to believe him. The disappointment hit like a punch. I was on the brink of finding him, and he slipped away again. I wanted to hold him, assure him everything would be alright, that after all these years I had finally found him. Instead he stared at me with puzzlement and a hint of fear. It felt as if people were starting to see me as a danger.

I I could run a test, I stammered. Just to be sure.

Im not opposed, Ian said, though he sounded doubtful. But I doubt itll change anything. My family were drinkers. After I was taken, my mother apparently had three more children, all taken as well. Ive never met them, only heard stories. I cant be your brother.

Please. It wont take long.

Alright.

The results came back a few days laternegative. Ian was not Lauras brother.

I went back to my flat and shut the door. I sat by the window, watching the endless grey drizzle. The hope that had flared in Portsmouth dimmed into ash. Maybe I should have listened to Bob after all.

Bob never returned. He must have found someone who lives in the present, someone who can offer a real life. I didnt blame him. Im the one chained to the past, stuck on the day my brother vanished.

It was time to let go of hope

And yet

I opened my laptop again, scrolling through missingperson notices, adoption registers, anyone searching for lost relatives. I knew I would never stop looking for Mick. It was my curse, my burden until my last breath.

Six months later Id travelled to two more towns, spoken to dozens more people. Nothing.

Then a call camefrom Ian, surprisingly, not from Portsmouth. Hed moved to a nearby city and, out of curiosity, wanted to talk.

He sat across from me, his voice steady:

My job fell through, there was a scandal at the warehouse, people were shouted at, some were fired, I left. A friend from the childrens home called, offered me a position here. I remembered you, thought perhaps fate was playing a hand. I liked you from the first moment I saw you.

Liked me? I asked, cheeks flushing.

When was the last time Id sat in a proper café, chatting with someone about anything but Mick? Not in a hurry, not in a bus station, not over a hurried meal.

Yes, he said. I thought Id ask for your number from Andrew and call you when I moved. I moved and called.

His straightforwardness made me smile.

Im packing my suitcases now. I have a flight tomorrow.

Where to this time?

To the Midlands.

The lead was thin, but Id go. Id go anyway. Honestly, I didnt believe much anymore. It felt like a frantic race, and if I stopped, my own thoughts would drive me mad.

Youre trying to drown out the guilt, Ian said suddenly, plainly.

Perhaps, I admitted. I feel responsible for him. I should have brought him home. For thirty years Ive only been trying to bring him back. But

He paused.

We barely know each other, so I cant give you advice about your life. But Ill tell you about mine. I remember my first four years better than most. I recall feeling utterly useless. When they took me to the home, I didnt cry. Yet until I left, I wanted to see my parents, find them, fix whatever broke me. I did, and they barely cared. I let go. That chapter ended, another began. I adapt easily, make friends, move on. You keep running, running your whole conscious life.

I stayed silent for a long while.

Our situations differ. Yours has a clear answer, mine is unknown. Sorry, I have to go.

I was about to leave, but something made me staynot out of duty, but because I genuinely wanted to.

I turned to him.

I wouldnt mind going on a date with you. Tomorrow.

What about your trip?

The man who looked like Mick wasnt him. I know that now. Im tired of this chase. Youre right about a lot, so Ill take the chance.

Ill be delighted.