Echoes of a Misjudged Life

On New Year's Eve, the smell of a roast in the oven drifted through the house.

My grandmother walked over to me, with an old photograph in her hand, the edges worn soft with age.

"Is Zack almost home?"

My throat tightened. It had been three years. She could never remember that my younger brother was long gone.

I was the one who picked up his ashes.

At that moment, my phone rang. The moment I saw the name on the screen, the blood in my veins seemed to freeze.

I stepped out onto the balcony before answering, keeping my voice low.

"What is it?"

The voice on the other end of the line trembled. "It's been three years. Are you still angry? I've been waiting for you to come home. Our son has, too. We're downstairs."

Downstairs?

I walked over and looked down to see a tall figure and a small one standing together.

Through my phone, my son's voice came with a catch in his throat, saying, "Daddy…"

My thoughts snapped back into place.

I said flatly, "We've been divorced for a long time. He said he didn't want to stay with me."

Then, I hung up without another word.

My grandmother's hand was really cold. So cold it sent a shiver down my spine.

She went in closer toward me with a child-like wonder in her eyes.

"Zack is coming back, right? I heard it on the phone. Is he giving me a surprise?"

My heart tightened. It felt as if someone were squeezing it hard.

Zack and I had grown up without our parents. We survived on scraps because our grandmother raised us by scavenging trash.

She always said, "Once you two are old enough, I will finally get to enjoy my life."

The day Zack passed, he had sent me a message.

[Miles, I bought Grandma a red wool sweater. It will surely look good on her.]

Later, all I received was a bag. Inside was that red sweater, still with the tags on.

That was when our grandmother started losing her mind.

The doctor said it was too much of a shock. Alzheimer's.

I thought maybe forgetting the painful things was not entirely bad.

"Zack is working late. I told you, right? He's working extra on New Year's Eve; he'll get paid much more."

I held her hand and hugged it. She nodded and subconsciously played with my shirt pocket.

"Oh, yes. Zack said he was going to buy me new clothes, too."

My throat tightened so much that it hurt. I clenched my fists, unable to say a single word.

The red wool sweater was still in the bottom drawer of my closet. I did not dare to take it out.

Right at that moment, a knock came on the door.

Opening the door, cold air blew in.

My mother-in-law, Helen Morte, stood in the dimly lit corridor with a box of cake. She smiled at me.

"Miles, about your brother… Gemma was