Coming Home

Author's note:

Here comes a romance of roughly 19k words. As is often the case with my stories, and typical romances even more so, there's not much sex in it and only towards the end.

My thanks go to my editors. Stattion for his help to make the storyline consistent and fluent and Joffa for his spelling, grammar and punctuation expertise.

I hope you enjoy it and please remember to leave a vote or even a comment.

+++++

'Fucking hell', I swore to myself as I walked back to my studio from the meeting with my professor for analytical chemistry. He had summoned me to his office for an early morning meeting to discuss various options for my term paper. He was exceptionally meticulous as this was the last paper before I would start on the thesis for my Masters. He had already told me that anything but a perfect score would be unacceptable.

Fighting against the wind which beat freezing rain into my face, I kept a close eye on the street. Cars were running at a crawling speed as the road was covered with a thin layer of ice which had been smoothed by the strong wind. I saw more than one car slither or fail to stop at a red light and was wary of a driver losing control of his vehicle and sliding right into me.

Fifteen minutes after I had left the professor's office, I arrived at my studio flat, just in time to prepare myself a late breakfast or an early lunch. Quickly checking the contents of my fridge, I heated some left-over mushroom risotto from the evening before. I was halfway through my lunch when the doorbell rang.

Curiously, I went to open the door. My best bet was that it was one of my friends, looking for a study partner. I looked through the peephole and stopped short when I saw two police officers in full uniform standing outside the door.

This was not good. I wasn't a Saint but to the best of my knowledge, I hadn't done anything that would warrant a visit from the police. Nervously, I pressed the handle and pulled the door open.

"Good afternoon, Officers."

"Good afternoon, Sir. Are you William Hazelwood?"

I squinted a little, suspicious of what they wanted but as I still didn't know of any misbehaviour, I had no reason to lie.

"Yes, that's me."

I tried to read their body language and countenance and what I saw wasn't very encouraging. They weren't looking for me in connection with a crime or an offence. But what other reasons could they possibly have to come here?

Mom! Dad! Carla! No! Not Carla! Not my sister!

"Could we please come in?"

"Carla. Please tell me that Carla is alright."

It was barely a whisper that made it out of my mouth.

"We think it would be best if you sat down, Mr Hazelwood."

I swayed. My bloodstream was being flooded with adrenaline and my sense of balance was rendered dysfunctional as my pulse rate increased and pumped the adrenaline though my body. My eyesight deserted me and I saw nothing but the faces of the two officers, the edges of my vision black and fuzzy.

A strong hand grabbed me by my shoulder and I was led into the studio and carefully sat down on my couch. There weren't many options as my studio consisted of a saggy single bed, a shabby desk with a rickety chair, a wormy wardrobe, and a worn-out sofa in front. A tiny bathroom and the even tinier kitchenette completed my realm.

'They entered my apartment without permission,' shot through my head before I remembered that they most likely weren't trying to search the place. My circulation normalised a bit or at least stabilised and I was able to form coherent thoughts again.

"Thank you for catching me. What's wrong with Carla?"

"We are sorry to inform you that your parents were involved in a car accident this morning. They were both taken to the hospital within minutes. Unfortunately, the injuries your father sustained were too severe and the medical staff were unable to help him. Your mother is alive but in critical condition. We have been instructed to take you to the hospital."

It took me a minute to understand what they just told me. Dad was dead and Mom was severely injured. In critical condition. That sounded ok. In the TV-series, patients in critical condition usually survived.

"What about Carla?"

"Sorry, we don't know who that is?"

"My sister. Was she in the car?"

"We don't have any information about anybody else being in the car. I think it's safe to assume that she was not present."

Frantically, I tried to come up with a plan on how to proceed. My sister was eleven years younger than I was. I had been an early surprise for my parents when they were barely twenty years old. They put in a lot of effort in raising and providing for me. A few weeks ago, during my last visit at home, they had told me that their marriage had been on the brink more than once in those early years due to the pressure it had put on them. After everything had stabilised and they had found more things they had in common than just me, they had decided to try for another child.

When Carla arrived, I was already eleven years old. During the pregnancy, I hated her. Or maybe disliked her. But once she had come home from the hospital, l soon fell in love with her and became a protective and doting big brother. When she had grown up a little and our parents wanted to have a calm evening to themselves, I always volunteered to babysit her.

What should I do now? Carla was eleven. If our parents weren't there to take care of her, nobody would. What would happen then? Most likely, she would either be given to foster care or a children's home. That wouldn't do.

"I need to go home. Immediately."

Home was fortunately only a two hours' drive by car or train away. I had missed when the officer told me that they were supposed to take me to the hospital so I thought that taking the train was my only option as I didn't own a car.

"Can you take me to the train station? I'll just need a few minutes to pack some necessities."

"We have been tasked to take you to the hospital where your parents were brought," the officer who had done all the speaking so far patiently reminded me.

I hastily threw some clothes into a suitcase and a handful of my books into my backpack and was ready to go. While the officers drove me to my hometown, I reflected on our future but I didn't know enough about our parents' financial situation. I knew that the house was mostly paid for but it still had a small mortgage remaining. They had also kept it in rather good shape but if our mother didn't survive it would be difficult to keep it. I might be a good chemistry student destined to finish top of the class but that didn't bring food to the table or dress my sister. I would need a job, a job which was flexible enough to be at home in the mornings to help my sister get ready and back in the evening to help with homework and prepare dinner.

Maybe I could turn my computer knowledge into money by finding a job as an IT supporter. Or maybe telemarketing. Or I could always take up waiting again as I had during the year I had taken off between High School and university. Why the fuck had I done that? If I'd manned up earlier I would most likely have finished my studies already and everything would look better.

The officers tried to engage in some polite conversation to keep my mind from turning uselessly but I wasn't receptive to their well-meant attempts. After a while, they resigned and kept to themselves. I was so lost in thought that I barely registered when they received a radio message. I was startled when the co-driver spoke loud enough for me to react to his words.

"Your sister has just been brought to the hospital. She is waiting for you there."

I looked up and registered my surroundings for the first time in over an hour. We'd be there in a few minutes. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I needed to focus. My sister would be in an even worse state than me. She needed me. My strength. My confidence.

"How is she?"

"I'm sorry, I don't have that information."

We arrived at the main entrance and I exited the car before it had come to a full stop. I rushed towards the reception.

"My name is William Hazelwood. My mother was brought here as a patient and my sister is supposed to be around."

The officers had caught up with me while the nurse checked her computer, muttering, "Hazelwood. Hazelwood. Ah, here."

Her eyes went wide as she checked her screen and I decidedly didn't like the look of that.

"Please, Mr Hazelwood. Follow me," she said as she came out from behind the reception desk and moved towards a door.

I had a bad feeling as she led me through various corridors. Distraught, I checked the signs on the walls. She took me to the mortuary. A deep black void opened inside of me. No. Please. No. Not both. Please. No.

But all my begging was in vain. The nurse brought me to stand between two white pieces of linen that covered a body each. Carefully and slowly she removed the covering fabric to reveal the pale faces of my parents, first from my Dad and then from my Mom.

Both faces were mostly unharmed but after casting a short glance at the ghastly profiles of my parents lying on the cold chrome steeled tables, I found myself unable to support my own weight and dropped to my knees to cry. I don't know how long I was there but it can't have been very long until a thought shot through my mind.

'I need to be strong for Carla. She needs me and she needs me now.'

I shoved my sorrow aside, pushed it deep down into my core where I could lock it up and away. There was no time for weepiness now. I needed to grow up and hold my own. I was now responsible for the well-being of my sister and I would do whatever it took to make sure that she wouldn't go short.

I took a couple of deep breaths and snuffled. I cleaned my face with my sleeves before I stood up, turned around and addressed the nurse that had brought me here.

"Where's Carla?"

"She is being cared for. Take your time, Mr Hazelwood. Do you want to speak to a chaplain or a minister or maybe a grief counsellor?"

"No. Please take me to my sister. She needs me."

I then turned to the police officers who had followed me down here.

"Thank you for your help, gentlemen. I highly appreciate it."

"Our assignment was to make sure that you get home safely, so we'll wait and take you and your sister to your home when you're ready."

I nodded at them gratefully as I had not yet had the time to think about how to get home from here. I had my driver's license but I didn't have a car and my parents' one was most likely junk now. The nurse led me back through the corridors and into an elevator. On the way up, the nurse handed me a tissue and I used it to properly clean my nose.

The front of the elevator opened when we reached the fourth floor and she brought me to a colourful door which seemed so out of place in this otherwise sterile environment. It had a small glass window in it and as I peered through I saw my adored sister sitting at a low plastic table with a colouring book in front of her, spiritlessly colouring the offered image.

I again took a couple of deep breaths and made sure that my own sorrow and despair were locked well away. I pressed the handle and pushed the door open. Before the angle of the door cut off my line of sight through the little window, I could see my sister's head turn towards the sound of the opening door. As soon as I was visible to her, she jumped up and rushed to me. I just about found the time to drop to one knee and extend my arms before my distraught sister reached me and threw herself into my chest with her arms around me.

She was babbling and sobbing and crying all at the same time. I didn't really understand the words she spoke but I quickly grasped that she was telling me how she had experienced the events of the day and what had happened today. There wasn't much I could do right now, so I just held her close and stroked her back and tried to calm her.

"I'm here. Everything will be fine. I'll take care of you. Don't worry. Leave everything in my hands."

I didn't really believe myself but it had a calming effect on my beloved baby sister, so I kept it up. With the help of the nurse, I manoeuvred us further into the room so the door could close behind us and continued to soothe my remaining family.

She was all that was left. Dad had come from an abusive home and had grown up in a children's home. He never had contact with his parents again after he had been hauled away from them and one evening just before I had gone to University he had confided me in that he was glad about it. He hadn't enjoyed growing up in the orphanage but it was better than the abuse he had suffered before. Mom's father had died from a heart attack five years ago. Her mother was technically still alive but a neurological sickness, ALS, had reduced her to a care case and she wasn't able to use the toilet without help or communicate with anyone. We had been expecting her to die any day for over a year now.

I made sure that my own feelings of loss and despair were still buried deep inside before I addressed Carla.

"Shall we go home? I'll cook dinner for you."

It was the nurse which had been with my sister before my arrival who thwarted my plans.

"I'm afraid you'll have to talk to Social Services first. They'll want to make sure that the child is properly cared for."

"This 'child', as you so vaguely put it, is Carla Hazelwood. My sister. You'll have to use violence if you try to keep her away from me."

"I'm just the messenger, Mr Hazelwood. If you please wait here for a minute, I'll go and get Mrs Jackson."

I took a deep breath to collect myself again.

"Of course. My apologies. We'll wait."

The talk with Mrs Jackson went quite well. In fact, she even supported the idea that I should take Carla home. She made a small question mark whether this was a suitable long-term solution but ad interim, it was the best option available. She also offered to help with funeral preparations and legal questions concerning the accident and the inheritance.

The two officers dropped us off at home around eight in the evening and left immediately. Entering the house was an emotional rollercoaster in itself, for my sister even more so than for me. I hadn't lived here for the last three years as my scholarship had included the rent of a student apartment close to the campus but my sister had eaten breakfast here with our parents only twelve hours ago.

But never again would we be welcomed home by our loving parents. Never again would we hear them laughing. Never again would they scold us for entering with dirty shoes or not having cleaned up after us. That was now my responsibility.

I was glad that I had lived on my own for the last three years as this had been the catalyst for me to learn how to cook. I sent Carla to wash her hands and then watch some TV while I made a quick inventory of the kitchen. I was relieved to find the fridge full, both with fresh groceries and with leftovers. I decided on speed over quality and reheated some of the leftovers.

As we sat eating, I finally had the opportunity to really speak to my sister. I assured her I would do everything in my power to ensure that we could stay together as a family. For me, it wasn't an option to have her placed in foster care, not after what our Dad had told me. She didn't really understand what that meant for me and I didn't even try to explain but she was obviously glad that I would come home and take care of her.

After dinner, I washed up and then sent her to brush her teeth.

"You need to help me a little. Mom and Dad didn't read you bedside stories anymore, did they?"

"Billie! I'm not a baby anymore," Carla replied with all the condescension an eleven-year-old girl could muster.

I managed a smile and spread my arms, "Come here."

She gladly complied. I embraced her tightly, making sure my facade remained intact.

"I love you, Carla. For me, you'll always be my little baby sister that needs my help tying her shoes."

When she was done with her preparations for the night, I tucked her in.

"Billie, I'm scared. What gonna happen now? What if they send me to foster care?"

"Not if I can avoid it. I'm here to stay and take care of you."

My voice was steady and assertive while I spoke to Carla. That wasn't how I felt but it was what I had to convey. Fate had taken one of its unexplainable turns and put me in charge of my sister. For the next couple of years, I would be a surrogate father. I just hoped I could make it work. I wasn't sure about that at all.

She begged me to not let anyone get in between us. I promised, sounding much surer of myself than I really was.

After bringing my sister to bed I retreated downstairs into the living room, planning to watch some TV but I never turned it on. Instead, I just sat there, trying to get my head around what had happened today. My parents were dead, ripped out of my life from one moment to the next and I was suddenly responsible for a little girl. I didn't know anything about raising girls. I didn't know her School schedule, I had a rough idea of her extracurricular activities but I didn't know any details.

And how the hell was I going to support us? I had no idea how much money my parents had left us. I didn't know how I was going to buy food or pay for utilities over the next few days. I needed to start looking for employment quickly but first I needed to find out about the funeral. And I needed to inform my parents' friends and their employers. And I had to find out if they had made a will. And I would have to inform the university that I definitely wouldn't return. And. And. And.

It took me a while to realise that I was crying and it took even longer to find out what I was crying about. It wasn't just the loss of my parents, it was the heavy weight of responsibility that was so suddenly dropped on my shoulders. It was well past midnight when I finally went to my old bedroom and cried myself to sleep. I still had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. I just knew that I was in way over my head.

+

After a few hours of restless sleep, the alarm on my mobile woke me at six in the morning. My hand already moved to turn it off when everything flooded back into my consciousness. My parents. My sister. My responsibility.

Instead of turning it off and going back to sleep, I turned it off and got up. I took a quick shower and then went to the kitchen to check if I had everything to prepare breakfast for my sister. I decided to let her sleep in a little. At seven thirty I called the school and spoke to the principal. He accepted that I would keep my sister at home today but convinced me that it was better for her to come to School again the next day because the routine would help her adapt to the new situation.

My next call was to my Dad's employer. I was quickly connected with somebody from HR and I was still speaking with her when Carla appeared in the kitchen door, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. I quickly agreed to keep the HR-representative up to date regarding the funeral and that we would meet after it had taken place to discuss everything in detail.

I told Carla that she wouldn't need to go to school today and then started on making her breakfast. While she was still eating her cereal, I started the process of finding out about all the activities she engaged in outside of school.

After a while, Carla understood what I was doing and reminded me of Mom's calendar. Of course! The calendar! Mom had always meticulously kept a calendar in which she notated everything. That would be a great help. After she had finished breakfast I sent her to brush her teeth and dress for the day. I didn't know what that day would bring but I wanted her ready.

While Carla was getting dressed I called Mom's employer and had an almost word-for-word repetition of the conversation with Dad's company.