Honestly, I'm not even sure which is reality and which isn't. The story seems to write itself, so I'm just along for the ride. Who knows where it'll take us? Thank you so much for reading! I'm so flattered! Here's the chapter for today....

 

Part 10

 

It was cold outside, that was for sure, but it was nice and toasty warm in the house. He was pulling off his coat, and hanging it on the hook behind the back door, as the snow on his shoes melted and fell onto the doormat. His dog, Max, ran up to him, tail wagging, begging for attention- after all he hadn’t seen his master all day.

He bent down and scratched the dog’s ear, to which Max responded by standing on his hind legs, and licking his cheek furiously.

“Hey buddy, did you miss me? Hmm?” The dog growled his approval of the treatment, then abruptly ran off to grab some food, tail still wagging happily. It had been so long since he’d seen his dog. In fact his dog had died some twenty years ago, but he was here now, alive again, even if it was only in a memory. A very cherished memory. His parents had gotten the dog from some family friends, when it was just a puppy, and he and the dog had pretty much grown up together

He kicked off his shoes, without untying them, something his mom never liked, turned the corner, and went up the stairs into his room. His older brother must have just been there, he reasoned, able to smell the signature scent of his cologne, mixed with his leather jacket. He must have been here getting ready for a date, because that was the only time he ever splashed cologne on so heavily.

“Hey bro, what’s up?” His brother said, as he bounded up the stairs into the room.

“Not much. Got a hot date tonight?”

“Maybe. Forgot my keys.” He said reaching past him, to get his keys from the dresser.

“So where you going?”

“Crazy.”

“No, really.”

“Crazy.” His brother said, matter of factly, and just like that he was down the stairs and gone again, the smell of his cologne even heavier in the air, now.

He hated it when his brother was so stand-offish with his answers. He’d just asked a simple question, and it’s not like his brother was on some secret spy mission, so why not answer. So what if he was six years older. Now this was something he hadn’t thought about before now; apparently even though the memories he was re-living were in his own distant past, as the people in those memories interacted with him, they saw him just as he was when they had originally occurred. The memory he was re-living had actually occurred at least twenty five or thirty years ago. His brother was around eighteen years old and he, around twelve. But even though he was now in reality, in his late thirties, his remembered brother apparently still saw him as a kid. Strange, the way this all worked.

He didn’t know how long this would last and he wanted to savor it, so he decided that he would try to reason it out later. For now, he was merely going to enjoy it.

Beef stew. Suddenly, he could smell beef stew! He quickly made his way downstairs, feeling the warmth on his skin, as he did. The ventilation system in the house had never been all that good, and in the winter, the heat didn’t always make it upstairs. There was always a drastic temperature difference between the first and second floors of the house.

The kitchen felt even warmer, and had the smell of the wonderful stew his mom cooked. He loved her beef stew, and wished she’d cook it more often. He saw the pan on the stove, covered with one of the metal lids that seemed to have been in the family for as long as he could remember. He looked around, and his mom was nowhere to be seen, so he lifted the lid on the pan, and looked into the bubbling brown liquid. Steam rose from the pan, the smell filling him. He could smell the meat, the green beans, the carrots. Oh, it was heavenly, and nearly overwhelming.

“Get out of that! It’s not done yet!”

Startled, he slammed the lid back down, and turned around. And there she was.

His mom. His mom was standing there! She had passed away over fifteen years ago, but here she was.

“Your dad will be home, soon. Just let that stew simmer a little while longer.”

“Mom…? I just… I…” He tried to speak, but could find no words. He had always been close to his mom, but especially so since his dad had passed away. He had been devastated when ten years after his dad died, his mom followed. But now, he was here with her again. He knew that it was only a memory, but it was so real. There were so many things he’d wanted to tell her. So many things, and he’d only realized them after she was gone. He remembered crying so hard after she died, that it seemed as if all the air had gone away, and there was no more to breathe. He cried until his entire body ached and he was sure he was also dying.

Now he would have the chance to tell it all to her. All the opportunities he was deprived of before were available to him. So what if it wasn’t real. It was real enough to him now.

“What’s wrong?” She was asking him.

“Mom… I…” he still couldn’t speak, overwhelmed as he was. Instead he merely reached out to her, hugging her close, nearly falling on her as he did. “Mom, I just wanted to say…. That I… I love you. I know I never say that enough.”

“Well, son, I love you too.” She hugged him back, seemingly confused by what to her was a sudden burst of emotion. To her, it was a normal day. She had probably seen him just a few minutes before this. But to him, it had been years since he’d seen her, and all the emotions resulting from regrets and opportunities lost, were pouring out.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t…” he caught himself speaking in a past tense. “…That I haven’t been a better son.

“Well, that’s okay. You’ve always been a great boy.” His mother replied, hugging him back, seemingly unsure what brought all this on, or what to say about it.

He pulled away and looked at her. “I really mean it, mom.”

“I know you do. But what’s going on? Why are you crying?”

He wiped at his cheek and felt the wetness of his tears. “Nothing, really.” She seemed so real. How could he tell her that he wasn’t really here? That none of this was real? Or should he tell her? It didn’t really matter. For him, the illusion was real. “It’s just that… I’ve thought about it a lot lately, and realized that there’s so much more I could have been. That I could still do. And that I wasn’t always the nicest kid. And I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused you.”

She was shorter than he was. Even back then, when he was a teenager, which is how she saw him now, he was taller than her. She patted him on the chest.

“Well, that’s okay, son. I don’t know what brought all this about but why don’t you go get washed up for supper. Your dad will be home soon, and you can tell him, too. It’s been a long time since you hugged either one of us like that. I guess teenagers outgrow that sort of thing. But it was nice.”

“Dad? Dad’s coming home?”

“Well sure. He must have left work by now. I’m sure he’ll be coming through the door any minute now.”

His dad. He was going to see his dad again! Ever since his dad died, he had realized how much closer to him he could have – should have – been. Since his death, there had been a thousand times that he had inwardly chastised himself for not being closer to him when he had the chance. All he had left of his father were distant, muted memories. Memories of him working in his garden. Of the time he was moving the refrigerator and damaged some of the tiles on the kitchen floor. Countless little snips of memories. All of them were so very far away, dulled by the filter of many passed years. But now, he would see his dad again.

And when he did, the memory would be full, and rich, and lifelike. Oh, he wanted to see his dad again. To tell him all he’d just told his mother and more.

His heart raced at the thought of the incredible reunion he was about to have. He ran to the living-room, and looked out the window, waiting to see his dad walking up to the door.

“Son, what in the world has gotten into you?”

He turned and his mother was standing there, her face a mask of absolute bewilderment, with more than a hint of alarm. “Are you sure you’re alright? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“No, mom” he chuckled at her reaction to all this “I guess I just… “ He had to stop for a moment and think about what period in his life this was. Was he a little boy? Was he…? No. he remembered his mom had said he was a teenager. And he was taller than she.

“No, mom, it’s nothing like that.” He had a hard time expressing himself, as he pretended to be a teenager again. It was so difficult to do, because he wasn’t a teenager. He was a grown man. “I guess I’m growing up. I’ve done a lot of thinking and I realized what a bratty little kid I was. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t – I mean that I haven’t been – the kind of son you could be proud of.”

“What are you talking about? We are proud of you, your dad and me.”

“Mom, there’s a difference between being proud of someone and loving them. You love me, but I haven’t given you a single thing to be proud of.”

“Well, of course you have, what about the time you…”

Abruptly the image of his mother melted into itself, turned black and instantly enveloped him. Then, just as abruptly as the old image faded, a new one formed in front of him. Not an image, really, but a color. Just a color, a flat gray. Dull gray, and very cold looking.

Where was his dad? His dad had been just about to walk in the door. But the door was gone. So was the livingroom.

“M…mom?”

Only a cool, unemotional humming sound answered him.

”Dad?” He realized he was lying down, staring up at the ceiling. Had he passed out? Perhaps the emotional flood of which he was about to be subjected was too much to deal with, and his body had just shut off momentarily.

But no. Something was wrong with that idea, although he wasn’t sure what. He sat up, and felt something stinging in his nostrils. He clawed at his nose, and pulled out two long, flexible tubes, with blood on the tips. He let them fall next to him, the blood making dark stains on the white, sterile sheets.

The light was dim, and he felt around with his hands, discovering the cold, metal bed frame, the smooth, uncaring wall it nestled against. No! It couldn’t be! Not now! He swung his feet over the edge, and they touched the icy floor. He quickly drew them up again, pulling his knees right to his chest. He circled them with his arms and quietly lay down on his bed, his head sinking into the soft pillow, listening to the hiss of the air processing unit, felt the dull vibrations of the various machinations below him, and came to the unwanted realization that he was still on the OSO. He had never left.

Blood seeped unnoticed from his nostrils, as he lay there in the dark, thinking about the whole experience. He understood that this wasn’t really a revelation; he had known all along that he was still here. That it was all a memory that he was re-living. Interacting with. But it had all felt so real. The sights, the smells, the sounds. The feelings.

Why had the experience ended at that exact moment? That exact moment? He was just about to see his dad again. The passing of so many years had dulled his conscious memory, but he was certain that this device would have tapped into his subconscious memories, clearly, brightly, and he would have seen his dad again. Seen him as he hadn’t remembered him in years. He wondered if he would have been able to feel the scratch of his dad’s whiskers against his cheek, the smell of his after-shave, as he hugged him, some of the most precious memories of his long-distant childhood.

For a long time, he didn’t move, trying desperately to lose himself in the memory again. The overwhelming feeling of emptiness was crushing, to the point where he didn’t even want to move to re-insert the tubes. He cried out for mercy from a god he wasn’t so sure he believed in anymore. The memories. The feelings. All of it - he just wanted it all back. But it wouldn’t come. And he cried.

Here's the link to my freebies:   https://www.renderosity.com/mod/freestuff/?uid=493127

My cousin Jack can speak to beans. That's right.... Jack and the beans talk