When You’re Not There

Lisa Zuena

Adam was twenty three and dying. He picked up a drug habit in college and just couldn’t kick it. It was only a year ago that he confided in me that he was using heroin. I tried not to judge him, tried to let him find his own way out—but he just couldn’t. I blamed it on everything I could think of: getting into the wrong crowd, stress, the fact that our parents had died in a car crash when he was eighteen. But nothing rationalized it. Time passed and we just didn’t talk about it anymore. I asked him if he wanted help, if there was anything I could do, but he insisted that because he didn’t do it often, he was okay. I was a fool and believed him. I believed that he would be able to fix himself. But as my hope disappeared, so did he. Without having to hear it from him, I knew that the drugs were taking my little brother to a place I couldn’t understand. It was like he just wasn’t there anymore.

The still night awakened what had been slumbering within me. The cool breeze tickled my thoughts and left me restless. Adam’s birthday was a few days away; if he continued using drugs, how many more would he have? Lying in bed, I thought I smelled something burning in the distance. The odor irritated my nose and lungs, but that was trivial, my mind was focused on things outside of me, things I feared were beyond my control. Soon enough though, the scent of lavender soothed my distant thoughts and washed away the smokiness. It washed over me like the softness of an infant’s swaddling blanket. I turned my gaze from the night sky to the source of that sweet scent. Lily, lying comfortably next to me, was spared from my relentless thoughts. I imagined her mind was somewhere else, enjoying the freedom and fantasy of dreams. Most of her long auburn hair was fanned out across her pillow, but a few loose strands were swept across her ivory face. I leaned over to brush them away, but thought better of it. Instead, I rolled over and let the lavender lull me to sleep.

And sleep I did. I woke up at 9:07 the next morning to a quiet house. Lily, always the early riser, was doubtlessly already out for her morning jog. After washing and dressing, which I guiltily must admit took roughly six minutes longer than I anticipated it would, I padded my way down the stairs toward our living room. The fresh scent of nature was my companion. Living in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere had its perks, I have to admit. I constantly felt both safe indoors and at one with nature. On my way to the living room I stopped for a moment in front of a double paned window. The colors of autumn painted the trees. Red, orange, and yellow were all that I could see. Leaves were fluttering in the air like butterflies, eventually blanketing the ground with decay. As beautiful as it was, I knew better. Autumn was really just the year’s death throes, the final shedding before a wintery end. I turned from the window and shuffled into the living room, my slippers gliding across the floor.

I thought suddenly to surprise Lily with a homemade breakfast. I walked toward the kitchen but stopped in front of a table with several photos on it. Lily, an avid photographer, had taken almost all of them. I would have usually given a quick glance at them and kept going, but this morning I couldn’t continue. It was Adam’s smiling face that stopped me. There he was, two years ago, laughing and full of life, standing in front of my then newly bought cabin. His straw colored hair was messy, his dark blue eyes telling a story of a happier time.

My eyes trailed over the next photograph. There I saw Adam once again, standing next to our sister Erin. She, too, beamed a happiness that has since become lost in our family. Next to her I observed myself. Standing taller than both of them, I hadn’t changed much over the years. My hair was still short and dark, my shoulders broad, and my face a bit square but always serious. I had wanted Lily to be in the picture too, to complete the portrait of my family, but she insisted that she wanted it to be just the three of us. The final picture on the table was our wedding portrait. It was one of the few photographs that she had not taken herself. I smiled warmly and ran my fingertips across the frame. There she was, her auburn hair down and flowing naturally. Her green eyes smiling as brightly as her lips were. I never cared how cliché it was; I would forever tell people that our wedding day was truly the happiest day of our lives.

I spent the next half hour or so preparing pancakes and eggs for the two of us. As I was setting down the plates on the little table I smelled that sweet scent of lavender. I looked up and saw her standing in the entrance to the dining room wearing her pale pink jogging suit, her hair tied back.

“You’re so quiet, I didn’t hear you come in,” I said, setting down the plate of pancakes.

“I didn’t want to make too much noise. I wasn’t sure it was you in here. I didn’t smell smoke,” she replied with a grin.

“Oh, you’ll never let me forget that one time,” I said, laughing.

She told me about her jog while we ate together. I jumped back and forth between listening to her story and thinking about Adam. The dining room was cold, the mid-fall air crisp and oddly alive.

“It’s hard to believe it’s gone,” I caught Lily saying as my mind wandered back into the conversation.

“You guys were lucky no one got hurt,” I replied. Lily was talking about the art studio she used to work in. It had burned down about a month ago, but the suddenness of it still haunted her. She had been working there for five years since she graduated from college. Seeing it be destroyed so quickly was unsettling to her. On the day it burned down, Lily told me that she felt as if her second home had disappeared.

We talked more about the fire, exchanging thoughts about how if the fire department had come sooner, they might have been able to save the studio. My mind continued to vacillate, however, and Lily began to take notice.

“Will, what’s wrong?” she asked, leaning forward in her chair. Her chin was resting on her folded hands that were supported by her elbows on the table.

“It’s Adam,” I said reluctantly, putting down my fork. “I can’t just sit by and let him ruin his life anymore. He may be turning twenty four in a few days, but I’m his older brother, I’m supposed to help him,” I said, rationalizing perhaps more than I had wanted to.

Lily smiled, “Do what you have to do, Will. You love him; you know what’s right for him. You were always there for him growing up. You’re not children anymore, but a big brother is always a big brother.”

For a moment I thought she was going to continue. Her eyes looked like they were about to tell me something important, but she said nothing. She didn’t need to continue, I thought, she had told me everything I needed to hear.

My body relaxed. I needed her to agree with me. That’s it, I decided then, it was time for me to fix my little brother. I took on the father role for my brother and sister when our parents died nearly six years ago, and I intended to live up to that role. I leaned forward to clasp Lily’s exposed hands but was startled by the doorbell.

“Would you mind?” Lily asked, leaning back, “I don’t exactly look lovely.”

I laughed as I stood up from my chair, “Of course, my love. I wouldn’t want you turning anyone to stone.”

I felt giddy listening to her laughter as I walked from the dining room toward the front door. It was like the laughter of a fairy, light and dainty. Our wedding photo caught my eye again as I passed it. No matter how heavy my thoughts of Adam made me, Lily was always there to lift that burden. Her laughter had faded away by the time I reached the door. I pulled it open and was hit with a blast of crisp air.

Erin was standing in the doorframe. She looked more like a fleeting spirit than a twenty year old girl. I opened my mouth to greet her, but she had already begun speaking.

“Will, I really need to talk to you,” she said as if it was one long word, her blue eyes wide. She had recently cut her hair into a sort of bob. Her hair, coupled with her frightened eyes, made her look like a child waiting to receive punishment.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, taking a tentative step toward her.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t say anything, but I can’t keep quiet anymore. Will, it’s about—”

“Adam,” I finished.

She didn’t say anything. Neither did I.

“Yeah,” she said, looking down. I knew better, I thought; she didn’t have to be afraid. I needed Lily to reassure me, and now it was my turn to reassure my sister. I stepped back and motioned for her to come inside. She nodded and stepped through the doorway. Rather than taking off her coat, she paused and looked around the room. Her eyes looked like they were searching for something.

“Adam’s real bad, Erin, I know. Those damn drugs are turning him into someone else—it’s like he’s not our brother anymore,” I explained so she wouldn’t have to.

Fearing she might cry, I reached out and gently clasped her shoulders. “My mind’s been so focused on Adam lately, especially with his birthday coming up. I think it’s time we did something for him. Like an intervention or something.”

“An intervention?” she questioned, finally looking up at me. Her eyes seemed to shrink at last.

“The three of us: me, you, and Lily, could sit down with him and talk about his problem. Maybe showing him that we’re there for him and that we’re not going to ignore it anymore will help him. I’ll take him to a rehab center if he’s willing to go,” I explained.

“You really think we can help?” she asked, straining to speak. “The two of us. And Lily too?”

“Yes, I really do. We’re his family. Lily said that I should do what I think is right, and I really feel that this is the right thing to do,” I said.

“How is Lily?” she asked, her hands finding their way to the depths of her coat pockets.

“She’s doing well. She just got back from her morning jog, so she’s probably washing up. She’ll be down soon though. I know we’ve all been busy, but it’s been a while since you two got together. She misses you, Erin,” I replied.

The burden of our family situation was weighing heavily on her, I could tell. Standing there like a miniature glass island, she looked like she was about to break.

“I miss her too,” she murmured.

“You know, why don’t we try to start out his next year of life on the right foot? Why don’t we do it tonight?” I suggested. “Come by later with Adam and we’ll see what we can do. Tell him we’ll have coffee and dessert. I have a good feeling about this, I really do,” I continued, hoping to bolster her confidence.

“Sure,” she said distractedly. “I’ll do anything at this point.” She walked back toward the door. I hurried over and opened it for her. The sooner we did it, the better, I thought. Perhaps we’d all sleep a little easier.

“I know it’s not easy, but we have to be strong for him,” I said as she made her way outside.

“It’s hard to see an older brother who’s always been there for you, actually need you now,” she replied, looking at me remorsefully.

I felt bad for Erin, the baby of the family. Adam and I had always fiercely watched over her growing up, especially after our parents were gone. It wasn’t fair that she had to shoulder this burden now as barely an adult.

“I’ll see you tonight then,” I said leaning on the open door.

Erin nodded her head. She started to walk down the front path but stopped and turned halfway around. I thought she was looking back at me, maybe for a sign that everything was going to be alright. But I noticed that her eyes were focused on something behind me, so I turned as well. Seeing nothing of particular interest in the house, I turned back to face her. Erin had already begun walking away, the dense leaves crunching under her feet. I suppressed the sudden urge to call for Lily. It was the perfect photograph, I thought, of Erin walking away with the leaves tumbling down around her, falling soundlessly like snow.

I spent the rest of that afternoon in a distant reverie. I assumed Lily was moving about soundlessly all day, and I did not see her at all. She knew that sometimes I just needed my space. She never had to ask, she always knew just what I needed. My thoughts were consumed by Lily’s kindness, Erin’s melancholy, and Adam’s decay. I spent an hour or so in the study organizing and reorganizing books. Tired from my pointless work, I sat down in the living room, staring at the front door. I thought that if I stared long enough, the evening would come. It would finally be time for me to slay the beast that had been burdening our family. I could save Adam, which would mean saving Erin and Lily from their worrying as well.

Eventually I noticed the sun beginning to set. A fiery glow hung in the sky that matched the hue of the changing leaves. As the sun descended my chest grew tighter. As I quietly made coffee in the kitchen I realized with a start that I had no dessert to offer them. We would be doing more talking than eating, but I hardly wanted to be rude. Just then I noticed a pie sitting inconspicuously on top of the toaster oven. Had it been there all day? I smiled as I lifted the pie out of its box—Lily, I thought. She must have run out and gotten it without me even realizing. It was pumpkin, Adam’s favorite. I carried the pie and some plates and forks into the living room and set them down on the coffee table. Just then I heard a knock at the door

It was 7:43 when I pulled the door open. There was Adam, standing a few inches shorter than me, wearing that mischievous smile that always irritated me as a child because it meant he was up to no good. At that moment it was heartwarming, a sign that perhaps he was still fighting. I noticed that his face had filled out since I last saw him. He didn’t look so sickly anymore. Perhaps the beast I would have to slay wasn’t quite as ferocious as I originally thought.

“Will, how’re you doing?” he asked warmly as he and Erin stepped inside and began taking off their jackets.

“Alright, alright. Keeping myself busy,” I said as I motioned them to sit down and make themselves comfortable.

“I was really happy when Erin told me that you wanted to have us over for dessert tonight,” Adam said as he settled himself onto my overstuffed plush couch. Erin sat down next to him, her spirit still as dim as when she had left earlier.

“Feel free to help yourselves,” I said, gesturing toward the pie as I sat down opposite them in an oversized chair. I felt myself stalling.

“Lily!” I called out, “Adam and Erin are here!” my voice rang through the cabin.

Adam looked at the table but didn’t seem interested in eating. Erin looked up at me with frightened eyes as if I had offered her a poison apple instead. Adam just looked at me with sincere gentleness.

“You know, I’d rather talk than eat right now, if it’s okay with you,” he said calmly. I had feared hostility from him, but Adam was always sharp. I assumed that he must have known why I invited him there in the first place. It seemed he was more eager to get along with things than even I was.

“Of course,” I said, realizing that I was perched on my chair like a predatory bird. I leaned back against the chair and let some of my muscles relax. I turned my body halfway around and looked for Lily who still hadn’t come into the room.

“What are you looking for?” Erin asked, her voice catching slightly in her throat.

“Lily,” I said matter-of-factly. “I wonder what’s taking her so long.”

“Will, Lily’s not here,” Adam said as if it was an obvious fact.

“What? Of course she is, unless she went out for another jog,” I said, trailing off.

I turned back around to face them. Erin looked like she was about to cry. I marveled at her incredible capacity to worry about Adam. I knew that she was not going to be able to start the intervention, but I was hesitant to start without Lily. She loved Adam as much as I did, after all. I started to speak, but Adam spoke instead.

“Will,” he urged.

I waited.

“Lily’s dead.”

Was my brother so far gone that he could no longer determine what was real? I looked to Erin for support. Surely she couldn’t tolerate his madness. But she had started crying. She was shaking like a mouse, holding in as much as she could. Tears were gliding down her cheeks, painting her face with grief.

I was about to protest when I smelled the lavender. I whipped back around in my seat, sure that I would see Lily there.

But she wasn’t.

I stood and stumbled toward the adjacent kitchen. The scent grew stronger with every shaky step. I barely heard Adam as he stood and followed me. Lily wasn’t dead. I had seen her peacefully sleeping the night before, ate breakfast with her; she even went out and got me the pie. The pie.

I turned back around to see Adam in my shadow. I looked behind him and saw Erin standing in front of the couch. The coffee table was bare. Where was the pie? I turned back to face the empty kitchen. The lavender was so strong it was bringing tears to my eyes.

Adam had bridged the gap between us.

“Will, I’ve been clean for three months now, you know that. Lily was the one who finally convinced me to get into rehab,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. No—he was still using. I needed him to be using. I turned violently away.

“What are you saying?” I snarled, “Lily’s here.” I started calling out her name.

“Lily! Lily!” I paused when I heard no response. “Lily?”

The lavender scent was starting to fade. I cried out like a mortally wounded animal, grasping out to stop it from disappearing. It grew fainter and fainter until all I could smell was the very wood the cabin was built from. My knees grew shaky.

I heard a man speaking behind me. But it wasn’t Adam. It was the voice of the doctor telling me that it was too late, telling me that my Lily was gone. Smoke inhalation—it wasn’t painful—he insisted. No, Lily and I were talking about it a few hours ago. I commented on how miraculous it was that no one was hurt. But then I remembered the firefighter telling me how Lily ran back in to save a coworker, but became trapped on the second floor—a hero, he called her. I remembered how that same firefighter had to restrain me from running toward the smoldering studio. I remembered how every day since then I walked through my house like a transient spirit, talking to memories. I remembered that my Lily was gone.

The memories snapped back to me like a mousetrap when it beheads its prey. My knees gave out and I started to fall.

Adam was there in an instant, grabbing hold of me before I hit the floor. He cradled me in his arms—the protector I imagined myself to be to him. I was shaking, staring at the door that led from the kitchen to the backyard. I thought I saw Lily standing in front of it, smiling like she had on our wedding day.

But she wasn’t there.