The Memory Keeper of Kyiv (3)

Harvey, oblivious to Cassie’s anger, jumped and barked excitedly as she clipped his leash onto his collar and left the yard. She tried to clear her thoughts as he sniffed around the trees in front of the house.

Her mom wasn’t wrong. Memories surrounded her here. Initially, after the accident, the house enveloped her—safe and comforting. But lately, a stifling, trapped feeling had overshadowed that comfort. After all, this wasn’t her real home; they’d only lived here six months before the accident. Henry’s company had transferred him to Madison, Wisconsin temporarily, and it was only supposed to be for a year, so they’d rented the first place they could find with a fenced yard for Harvey. The transfer came with a huge bonus, and after the year was up, they’d planned on moving back to Illinois and buying their own place.

They’d spent hours dreaming about that home. She wanted an old farmhouse on acreage with a barn and fruit trees. Henry wanted a cabin with a pole barn and woods. But the accident changed all that. Luckily, the sympathetic landlord had let her extend the lease month–to–month after the original year–long contract expired.

She rounded the corner in front of her home and stared at the brick bungalow. Unimpressive, it sat too close to the street and lacked the charm of the other houses on the block. She didn’t stay because she liked this house or felt closer to Henry here. She stayed because it was easier to maintain the status quo and keep going through the motions of a bare–bones existence. Wake up, eat, take care of Birdie, sleep, repeat.

Harvey pulled on the leash, excited to go back inside. Cassie saw Birdie peeking out through her bedroom window. She waved excitedly, then spun away; it was the most expression Cassie had seen out of her in months.

How much had she thought of Birdie as she struggled from day to day? How many of her decisions were based on what Birdie needed to thrive versus what she, Cassie, needed to survive? Cassie didn’t like the answers to those questions, so she usually avoided asking them. Her mom had ruined that for her.

She trudged into the house; her mom still sat in the same place at the kitchen table. She turned to Cassie as she entered and raised her hands in the air. “I swear, honey, I didn’t say a word to Birdie, but as soon as you walked out the door, she ran to her room.”

Cassie unclipped Harvey and hung up her coat. “That’s fine. She likes to play in there.”

“She’s not playing, Cass. She’s packing. She must have overheard us talking.”

“Did she…” Cassie trailed off, not wanting to ask the question.

Anna gave her a pitying look. “No, she didn’t talk to me.”

Of course she didn’t. Birdie’s silence was just one more shining example of Cassie’s failure as a parent to help her cope with the accident and loss of her father. She sank into the chair across from Anna, defeated. “What’s your plan?”

Anna grabbed both of Cassie’s hands in hers. “I want to help you pack up and leave. Make a clean break of it, no time to think or change your mind. I’ll help you with everything. I promise I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think it was best for you. You know I’ve been on you to move back for months.”

“Now you have the perfect excuse,” Cassie finished for her.

“Now your Bobby needs you,” Anna said. “And I think you need her, too. Why don’t we pack up the basics? Your clothes, toiletries, and any food that would spoil. I’ll come back with you when you’re ready to get Henry’s things.”

“I’ve already done that,” Cassie said. “Last month, Henry’s mom came down and helped me go through his clothes.”

“Oh, well, that’s one thing done then.” Anna’s voice rose an octave.

The all too familiar guilt crept up on Cassie. “I’m sorry, Mom. I know you’d offered to help before. I wasn’t ready then. But it got to a point where I couldn’t breathe with all of that hanging over me. I had to get it out, and Dottie happened to be visiting when that moment came.”

Anna’s lips pressed together, and she wrapped Cassie in a hug. “Oh, my sweet girl.”

Cassie hugged her mom back and melted into her, just like she had when she was a kid. Unexpected pinpricks of relief tickled her scalp, and she sighed. “Okay, Mom. I’ll come home.”

Anna pulled back and gave a tremulous smile. “This will be best for everyone. You’ll see.” She hesitated, then went on. “Honestly, I’m worried about Bobby. Even before the accident, she’s been… different. You know how she is. Always moving, always working. But now, I’ll catch her sitting at the table, staring off in a daze like she’s in another place, talking to herself in Ukrainian.”

“What’s she saying?”

“I don’t know,” Anna replied. “Usually she won’t talk to me when she’s like that. It’s like she’s so deep in her memories that she’s not aware of what’s going on around her. The other day, I asked what she was thinking about, and when she finally responded, all she said was ‘sunflowers’.”

“Maybe she’s thinking about what she wants to plant in her flowerbeds.”

“No.” Anna drummed her fingers on the table. “She’s never planted sunflowers. She always told me they made her too sad.”