Welcome back. The journey between two worlds continues.
Chapter 7 – Tension
The drive was quiet for a while. Just the whistle of Sara’s electric engine and the muffled urban noise. It took him a while to notice the background music, a fine blend of classical and electronic. Secret Garden, Marek Bilinski, or maybe Oliver Shanti. He couldn’t quite place it, but he liked it. He thought of asking Sara, but the idea that she might say it was a playlist he himself had created was not something he wanted to think about.
They had just exited the town’s suburbs, following a straight road that seemed to cut the forest in two. The sun was slowly moving toward the horizon, and from time-to-time sunbeams managed to find their way through the trees and land on Nathan’s face. He stared out the window without any particular focus.
“Why does he have to be so far away? Is he hiding or something?” Nathan mumbled, clearly uncomfortable with the upcoming meeting.
“Just eight minutes and we’ll be there,” Sara said, obviously it heard him and was trying to ease the tension.
“By the way, Sara… how come I never visit my father, and yet you know where he is?”
“This is Sarah’s doing. She entered the address and asked me to be ready to help you whenever you decided to take this step.”
“Not sure I’m ready for it, though,” he said thoughtfully.
“Sarah said that you have been ready for a while now. You just need to trust that this matter will come to a resolution and have the courage to accept that resolution as it is.”
“Maybe…”
They took a right turn, following a gravel road that went deeper into the forest. About two minutes later, they reached a small clearing with a simple wooden house resting on a river‑stone foundation.
“We’ve arrived. Good luck, Nathan. It’s up to you now,” Sara said, opening the door.
“It is, huh? But… maybe Sarah is right. It’s been long enough, and we need to close this issue. Today is as good a day as any, I guess. Stay close, just in case I need to run or something.”
Nathan stepped out of the car and remained still, looking at the house as if it were a puzzle with a particularly complicated solution. Sara slowly reversed, cleared the door, closed it, and parked parallel to his father’s old semitruck.
A couple of minutes passed before Nathan finally gathered the courage to knock on the door.
“In a minute,” he heard his father’s voice. “You can leave it there. Don’t forget your tip under the flowerpot. Thanks, David!”
Nathan decided to wait. His father had said “in a minute,” after all. Better to wait than give in to the urge to keep ringing the bell until the door opened. He paced on the porch, then stopped at the window, trying to look inside, but the drapes blocked the view. He was near the porch steps when the creaking sound of the old wooden door opening made him turn around.
“Oh, David, are you still… here?” the man said uncertainly, squinting… then froze. “Nathan… you came.” Relief crossed his face as he took a few tentative steps forward, arms half‑opening for a hug. He stopped.
Nathan stood still, looking at him coldly, without blinking. He had imagined this moment countless times, meeting Mannyagain, his “father”. But now, when it actually happened, nothing came to his mind. Even the anger he had always felt when thinking of him seemed to have subsided.
“Good. Good,” Manny mumbled. “Come on in, boy. We need to talk.” He went inside, leaving the door open.
Nathan took a deep breath and followed. “Tea? Snacks?” Manny asked and answered before Nathan could. “No matter. Both it is.”
Nathan looked around at the pictures carefully placed on the walls and furniture. Most of them showing him, younger… much younger. A few were of him and his mother, Ellie, and only one showed all three of them together, placed strategically to be seen as you entered the living room. But one picture made him linger longer. It showed him as a child with a girl in his backyard. A scene he couldn’t recall, yet it called both familiarity and strangeness.
The living room was sparse: a small TV, a fireplace he doubted still worked, and two worn‑out armchairs marked by cat scratches or by bite marks of a small dog. He looked around for any sign of a pet, then found himself staring again at the photo with him and the girl.
“I love that picture too,” Manny said, placing a tray on the table, with mugs instead of teacups, a glass teapot, and a wide bamboo bowl overflowing with both sweet and salty snacks. “You were about… nine, I think. And she was seven, maybe eight. I was never able to remember exactly. Ellie knew, as always…” He sighed deeply. “You two were inseparable back then.”
“I don’t recall any of it,” Nathan muttered, as if Manny were saying it just to provoke him.
“Sit. Sit, Nathan. Tell me… how are you?” Manny said, pouring tea into a floral mug and setting it down on top of a couple of unopened envelopes.
Nathan almost sat, then stopped, took a breath, and straightened.
“How am I?” he said, forcing his anger to stay in check. “Isn’t it a bit late to ask?” He began pacing, brushing the back of one armchair with his hand. “You… you left me,” he said at last, deliberately avoiding the word dad. He sat down and wrapped his hands around the mug, avoiding eye contact.
“Nathan… my boy… I…”
“Don’t,” Nathan cut him off. “Don’t “boy” me. Don’t justify it. Fifteen years… Not a sign. You made me believe you might as well be dead. Did you know that?” his voice trembled with restrained anger as he stood and started pacing again.
“I know. More than you think…” Manny coughed a few times, then continued, discreetly hiding a hand speckled with a few drops of blood. “But arrangements were made so as not to…”
“No, you don’t!” Nathan interrupted. “You didn’t even care. I wasn’t even fifteen. And if it hadn’t been for that scholarship… I don’t know how I would have survived. And you, you were just here? Doing… doing what exactly?” He waved his hands, unable to hide his disappointment and disgust.
“Nathan…” Manny began softly, then widened his eyes as he noticed the light‑blue aura surrounding Nathan, a sign that he would soon return. “There’s no time now, but I promise you, soon, all your questions will be answered. The reason I asked you to come…”
“Time?” Nathan said, his voice measured. “What do you know about time? About how it flows for a teenager without parents, passed between relatives he never knew he had?” He took a sip of tea, picked up a cracker, and leaned back. “Questions? I had so many. But now, looking at you… I don’t have any left. Me being here was a mistake.”
“My boy, listen. I called you here to give you Ellie’s keepsake. This is important.” Manny coughed again. “You’ll return soon. The blue aura is growing stronger.”
“You can see it? Wait… what keepsake?”
Nathan stood still, expecting more details before he could take any action. A knock at the door passed by them as if it had never happened. Then again, a bit stronger.
David stood outside with delivery bags in hand. He glanced around, noticed Nathan’s car, and paused.
“Guests, I see” he mumbled, placing the bags on the porch. He lifted the flowerpot, took the tip, smiled, made a small gesture of salute, and left, not before giving two short honks.
Nathan hesitated. Manny waved his hand the way he used to when Nathan was a child, to give him courage, meaning “You can do it, boy. Come on.” Nathan turned to the cabinet. Another cough echoed behind him, dry and deep, but he forced himself not to look back.
A small door squeaked as it opened. Inside, on top of a stack of photographs sat a wooden box. Nathan took it, closed the cabinet, and examined the box from all sides before opening it.
Inside lay a necklace, a fine golden chain with a small crystal hourglass. He lifted it in front of his eyes. The rather dim light in the room makes it shimmer and felt like light is flowing through instead of sand.
“This… how is this here?” he whispered, his voice trembling.
The necklace was identical to the one he already had. His mother’s necklace, the one hanging from the rear‑view mirror of his car.
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