Capítulo 8: Chapter 8: The Past Is Never Gone
Royce
THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, was the sound of my feet padding the ground as I ran down the street on my usual morning route. I had my running playlist blasting, but it wasn’t doing any good. I was trying to blow off some steam; I had barely slept the night before. It wasn’t my fault. I had truly been tried. But I could only do so much when the universe felt like tearing me down.
A piece of mail arrived with Kit’s name. It had a forwarding address label on it, and someone had decided they needed to stamp DECEASED on the envelope before it made it to my place.
It was a great way of reminding me where I was, that the ache I felt daily continued to grow. This time of year was always difficult for me, but I always managed to get through it. It felt wrong with the app launching this year; this mail is coming soon after the anniversary.
Four years had passed. I never thought I’d have to deal with losing my sister so early in my life, but the universe sure has one hell of a sense of humor.
“An accident” is how it was deemed. But I didn’t like them calling her death an accident. An accident is dropping a bottle of water on the ground. An accident was calling someone the wrong name after first meeting them. This was no “accident”.
There were still no real answers four years later. All the coroners had to go off was the bodies. But no one could answer any questions for my family. One day, I had a sister, and the next day, I didn’t anymore.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead and turned left, another fast-paced song playing through my headphones.
Kit’s “accident” is how I ended up meeting Nico. I went to a support group he was running, and he helped me and my parents find a therapist to talk to about everything. He and I got along well, though, and he was the reason I was able to do everything that I did. He is the person who basically brought me back to the world of the living. I wouldn’t have done the things I did without him.
Nico never tried to talk to me like a doctor. He spoke to me like a friend. That was the main difference as to why I had a hard time finding the right therapist to talk to about everything. By the time I’d landed in his support group, I had ditched three therapists. He made things easier for all of us.
He may have been a complete ass at times, but he was truly the only person who seemed to understand how I was mourning the loss. I knew he wanted what was best for me.
And he wanted me to be happy.
I hadn’t told him yet about the mail for Kit, but I knew I would later. All I wanted to focus on was getting the run over. I needed to clear my head to get through another stressful and frustrating day at work.
The run continued, and I tried not to focus on the issues in my life. I tried to tunnel vision my way through the route. I wanted to see the road ahead, hear the music in my ears, and concentrate on nothing else. It was so challenging to keep my mind from wandering. Flashes of Kit went through my head, with her matching dark hair and her big smile.
In literature, siblings often get along ideally or hate each other, and Kit was more than just my sister. We had these special attachments. In fact, had Kit still been alive, I probably would talk to her every few days again, know all about the app work she’d started, and say “I love you” at the end of the phone calls.
Four years ago, things changed, though.
I hated clichés, truly. But my life felt more cliché as I grew older. My sister was gone. My parents were both still wrecks. And I was taking over the work she’d started.
I sometimes wondered if the universe didn’t care about hurting people. Over and over again, people are destroyed by little changes. And while Kit wasn’t a “little change,” her death still impacted me.
I was only just graduated from college. I had been home only a few days when we got the phone call. All the hard work, celebration, and happy family memories were replaced with somber, dark, and challenging times.
Another turn in my run.
I was left to pick up the pieces of the legacy Kit was building. What she was creating was important. She was going to help other people. I didn’t want her legacy to be lost. I used Kit’s money to keep the company going and put my money, time, and belief into her legacy. My parents were thrilled I was doing everything for her. But I always wondered if I knew what the hell I wanted in life.
The first thing that my mind thought of was Carrigan. I had such a great time with her at dinner that night, but I’d only texted her once. That night after dinner, I’d returned home and sent her one short text.
ROYCE: Thanks for dinner. It was lovely.
CARRIGAN: Of course :)
I didn’t know what else to say to her yet. She was so…breathtaking. The way she held herself, knew how to joke around, and was so easy to talk to. I didn’t think she figured out how much I purposely omitted from stories. I mostly just talked about how I was a programmer and was working on an app with the company.
The app Kit made.
I heard the crack in my voice when I mentioned the app. It wasn’t easy talking about how I got to where I was, but I was still proud of everything I had done in the last four years.
I reached my normal traffic light, jogging in place as I watched the colors.
I needed a nap. I had to go into the office but wanted nothing more than to return to my bed.
The constant thinking of Kit and the fucking business was slowly killing me. I wanted to focus on something else for once. Carrigan was a great distraction, but what was I willing to sacrifice to talk to her more or even be with her?
I hadn’t gone on a date in years. I hadn’t liked anyone since college. I was engulfed in my work and tired—I wanted a break.
The light above me turned green, and I continued on.
I didn’t have time or the ability to take a break. We were working toward a due date of the end of the year. We were almost finished. There was just a little left to work out with trying to fix the function of the database, where it stored and kept all the information. It was supposed to keep all the information private, where only specific people could access names and places. However, the bug in the programming was trying to keep the info hidden from anyone who could access it.
That was only one of the problems we’d encountered. We needed more room on the app, and the money from Mr. Hong was supposed to also create a bridge between Japan and the US divisions.
Every time it looked like we were getting closer, something new always reared its ugly head. We had until the end of the year, or we would have to delay again.
I reached my place without realizing it and stopped in front of it.
I missed Kit. She would have had this app running two years ago. But she was gone, and “accident” or not, I was the only person she had entrusted the app information to.
I felt the pressure daily, and I wanted to do right by everyone.
But how was I supposed to know what “right” even was anymore?
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