The Echoes That Remain
Alone. Julian had known the day was coming, but it was still a lot to wrap his head around. With his parents’ move to a warmer climate, he was now all that remained of the family.
He corrected himself—except Whitney, of course. He would never give up hope, no matter how long it had been. Julian had been 11 when she left abruptly. He had no idea what had precipitated her decision, and it was no use to ask his parents. As far as they were concerned, she had never existed.
Years of searching online for clues and combing social media platforms turned up nothing. At times, Julian even caught himself doubting his memories. Surely, she must exist. She must be out there somewhere.
The walk downtown hadn’t cleared his mind as he had hoped. Transferring his parents’—their parents’—remaining property into his name should have been a much-needed financial blessing, but the thought of his sister being cut out of an inheritance didn’t sit well with him.
And now his route took him past Padua Park. The family had grown up within walking distance, and Julian treasured the memories of visiting the playground with Whitney. When their parents had decided to sell the house and head south, Julian couldn’t bring himself to move far and had rented an apartment just a block from the park.
SQUEEAK! Julian recognized the sound immediately. A young family had just left the merry-go-round. As it spun to a stop, the scraping metal let out a familiar sound that immediately took him back to childhood.
On a whim, he walked across the grass and sat on the merry-go-round, pushing it around with his feet. He knew it must look strange to anyone driving by, but he couldn’t resist revisiting an old memory. The occasional squeaks still pierced his ears but brought a sort of comfort, as if Whitney couldn’t be far away.
Of course, that was a lie. She could be anywhere. Perhaps under an assumed name, explaining why Julian couldn’t find her. Or maybe she had—
He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. Julian closed his eyes and felt himself sailing, trying to push the painful memories aside.
It was no use. A tinkling sound entered his brain. The merry-go-round had awakened another recollection. Whitney’s birthday was in the spring, and she had always set aside a few dollars from her presents. Every once in a while, she brought along enough money to treat the two of them to something from the ice cream truck as it passed the park.
He stopped the merry-go-round. Absentmindedly, Julian began tracing Whitney’s name in the sand. With each letter, the jingle of the ice cream truck grew louder. He looked around, but there wasn’t a vehicle in sight. Still, the sound swelled until he could barely take it.
Julian closed his eyes and fell backward, his head striking the metal. The impact jarred the merry-go-round into motion, and Julian’s unconscious body spun slowly in the silence of the park.
The next thing Julian was aware of was a new song. He fought to open his eyes. After several attempts, he managed to keep them open long enough to take in his apartment. He was lying on his couch with the television playing. He noticed that he was wearing the same clothes. Someone must have found him and helped him home. He had no idea how they had gotten inside, but it didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was the song. He knew it held significant meaning, but he struggled to sort through years of fuzzy memories.
Once his eyes became accustomed to the light, Julian jumped in surprise. On the television was a beloved show from his past. But not just his—Mayhem in Meowtropolis had been Whitney’s favorite as well. While they had often battled over who got to choose the show, this was always an easy consensus.
“Whitney, it’s our show,” he whispered, fully aware that he was speaking to himself.
He turned off the television. Watching it alone felt like a betrayal.
Julian walked to the kitchen, hoping a glass of water would clear his head. He froze, surprised to find the counter strewn with dishes and takeout containers. He opened the dishwasher. More dirty dishes. He was sure he’d tidied the whole apartment before his parents left, just in case they finally decided to visit. As always, they had an excuse to avoid his apartment, but none of this explained the state of the kitchen. He picked up one of the containers and looked at the receipt taped to it. June 24—but that was a week and a half in the future.
Something wasn’t right.
With no clean glasses, Julian returned to the couch empty-handed. Despite the shock of the kitchen mess, he found himself struggling to stay awake. Each blink felt heavier, and he eventually gave in. When he opened his eyes again, the room was completely dark. He held onto the wall, fumbling toward his bed, and was soon out once more.
Fortunately, he was much more alert in the morning. He sat up slowly and noticed that everything seemed in place.
Everything except a book, which lay beside him on the bed. The illustration on the back was familiar, but he couldn’t place it: a whirlpool, a goblin, a palm tree, a stack of gold coins and jewels. What did they have in common?
“Adventures Down the Tub Drain!” Julian shouted. It had been Whitney’s favorite book. He remembered how excited she had been to share it with him. At first, he had found it terrifying. He could still hear Whitney’s voice, slow and mysterious as she built the tension. It had affected him so much that, for a while, he had run his bathwater without using the plug, wetting his hair in the sink to fool his parents into thinking he had washed himself.
By the time they caught on to the trick, however, the book had gotten so exciting that Julian would have given anything to slip down the drain, explore new lands, and discover untold riches.
He had never read the book since Whitney left. He saw a piece of paper sticking out. It had come from the library—in fact, this must have been the exact copy that the two of them had read together so many times.
“Whitney?” he called. He rushed around the apartment, searching every corner, every possible hiding place. “Whitney, are you here?”
The door was locked and chained shut. If she had been inside, she must have vanished. Julian was almost tempted to shine a flashlight down the bathtub drain, but he knew he needed to keep hold of his senses.
He sat at the kitchen table, trying to sort everything out. The book and the show, appearing suddenly after so many years—it couldn’t be a coincidence. He felt Whitney’s presence, but that was impossible. “Whitney?” he shouted as loud as he dared.
Silence. He put his head on the table and began to drift off again.
“Squeak!” It was rare that he could hear the merry-go-round. Noises from the neighbors or traffic usually drowned it out. He walked to the window to see who was on the playground.
But the playground was deserted. The merry-go-round sat still and unused.
In the silence, he realized that the sound had continued—but it wasn’t the squeaking of the playground. This was something more melodic…
He stood still and focused. It sounded like Christmas music. At this time of year?
He froze. It was a recorder. Whitney had excelled so much in music class that her teacher let her keep the recorder, and she had played her favorite Christmas carols year-round.
Julian remembered how excited Whitney had always been for Christmas. Her innate joy seemed to multiply, and her smile and twinkling eyes could warm the hardest of hearts. The song he heard now was “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” She had brought the recorder with her while the family visited relatives in the next state, and she had played the song so often on the Christmas Eve drive home that their parents had to confiscate the recorder.
Whitney had taken it in stride, but Julian felt devastated. The music, the late-night drive on an almost deserted highway—it had felt peaceful. Almost… he never knew how to describe it.
Holy?
If he had known how few Christmases they would share after that, he would have put up more of a fight, Julian reflected.
“I guess nobody will be home for Christmas this year,” he said. He fought back a tear. No sense dwelling on that now.
Julian went through the motions that day, grateful for the weekend. He knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on his work.
In the evening, he was sitting on the couch, absentmindedly drawing random shapes on the back of an envelope. He couldn’t get Whitney off his mind, and the reminders were getting to be too much. They had to mean something.
“Whitney?” he called once more, needing to convince himself that he was really alone in the apartment.
A knocking sound.
Julian ignored it, assuming it was the door across the hall.
Another knock.
He walked to the door slowly, trying to steel himself to politely decline whatever the neighbors’ kids might be selling.
The black hair was longer than he remembered, but there was no mistaking the eyes or the smile.
“Whitney?” he whispered.
“Julian!” She dropped a suitcase inside the door and squeezed him hard enough to make up for the missing years.
“How did you find me? I mean, how did you know I live here? Why are you back? I mean, I’m so excited to—”
“Slow down,” she laughed. “I’ve been feeling like I was being called home. It’s been building for a couple of weeks. Like I was meant to be here, or needed here. I kept packing an unpacking my suitcase, not sure what to do. Then I found this picture, and I just knew.”
She handed Julian a photograph. He almost dropped it in surprise. “It’s us! At the playground!”
Whitney nodded. “I headed straight there when I got back into town. I don’t know—it just reminded me of the last time life felt simple.”
“But how did you end up here? At my apartment?”
Whitney paused, looking down at the photograph. “I felt a flood of memories come back, and I needed to walk and process them. I got this feeling that, even though I didn’t know how to find you, I was sure that I would. So I trusted that feeling, and then…” She tilted her head and smiled at Julian. “I got your message.”
Julian stood in silence for a minute. “I… don’t understand. What message?”
Whitney took him by the hand and led him through the hallway and down a flight of stairs. She pointed to the chalk writing on the sidewalk. Written in bright yellow with purple outlines were the words “WHITNEY 221.”
She smiled. “Sure enough, I knocked at apartment 221, and there you were. If this isn’t for me, I have no idea what’s going on. It’s okay to admit you missed your sister, you know.”
“Oh, I’ve definitely missed you. I just…” He stared at the letters, unsure what to think. “Can we go inside? There’s been some strange stuff happening, and maybe you can help me figure it out.”
Back inside, he sat on the couch. “I was sitting here yesterday, and you’ll never guess what came on the TV.”
Whitney shook her head.
“Mayhem in Meowtropolis! I haven’t seen it in years, and it was just playing when I woke up.”
Whitney’s eyes scanned the room. She walked toward the entertainment center and picked up a cardboard case from the floor. “This is from one of our old VHS tapes. It’s labeled ‘Meowtropolis’ in your writing.”
Julian jumped from the couch and took the case. He couldn’t deny it. It was definitely his printing, but where had it come from after so many years? He was sure he hadn’t packed it for the move.
“Okay, well, just wait here a minute.” He rushed to the bedroom and returned with the book. “Adventures Down the Tub Drain… where did this come from?”
Reverently, Whitney took the book from his hands and turned it over a few times, taking in the illustrations from her childhood. She tugged at the slip of paper and read it. “It’s checked out to you. Your name is on the receipt, and it says you checked it out on the 12th. That was, like, two weeks ago.”
“Two weeks? Mom and Dad just moved yesterday. That was the 12th.”
Whitney pulled out her phone and showed Julian the screen. Sure enough, the date was June 26th.
“Then what have I been doing for the past two weeks? Was I sleeping on the couch for that long?”
He walked to the kitchen and picked up his phone. No new messages. He flipped through his recent e-mails. Nothing unusual there—except that he couldn’t remember sending any of them. E-mail exchanges with his boss, conversations with clients… but how was this possible?
“I’m sorry, Julian. I didn’t mean to throw everything off. Maybe you just need some fresh air.” She pointed to the table. “Hey, is that my old recorder?”
She picked it up, examined the finger holes, then looked at Julian. “Where did you get this?”
Julian shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ve never seen it before.”
Whitney laughed. “Yes, you have. It’s mine. I can tell by the purple circles around the keyholes. I haven’t seen it since that time in the car when…”
“When Mom and Dad took it away. Too much ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas,’” Julian finished. “But they didn’t give it to me.”
“This is getting really strange,” Whitney said. “I think we should get out for that fresh air.”
Wordlessly, he put on his jacket and shoes. Automatically, he turned left at the sidewalk, still puzzled about the origin of the message on the pavement.
As though they had been pulled by an invisible rope, Julian and Whitney arrived at the park. The merry-go-round was spinning slightly, although nobody was around. He sat down, and Whitney sat beside him without a word.
Julian broke the silence. “I don’t mean to worry you. I just don’t know how to make sense of this. What brought you home? Where has the time gone?”
Whitney considered the questions. “I’m not sure how to explain it. Whenever the chance to visit came up, I felt a major mental block. But lately, it feels like it’s lifted—like I was being called, and the time was right.”
She was interrupted by the tinkling of bells. An ice cream truck pulled up on the side of the road. The driver seemed to stare expectantly at Julian. Julian looked around behind him to see if the look was for someone else, but the park was empty aside from him and his sister.
He walked toward the truck. The driver greeted him with a big smile. “Julian! How’s my best customer?”
“I’m…” He looked around again to confirm that the driver was talking to him. “I’m okay, I suppose. How are you?”
“Always happy to make a sale. The usual butterscotch crunch bar?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Julian stammered. “Make it two, I guess. Ummm… what do you mean by ‘best customer’?”
The man laughed. “Like clockwork. Sitting on the merry-go-round, waiting every day at 4:30. I’d say that qualifies you to be my best customer. Enjoy.” The tinkling sound began again, and the truck slowly drove away.
“Sitting on the merry-go-round waiting for the ice cream truck? Good to see that some things never change.” Whitney put her arm around him and squeezed as they walked side by side back toward the apartment.
Outside, they were met by one of the neighbor children. “Did you see it, Julian?”
Julian frowned. He had always been polite with the neighbors, but they were hardly on a first-name basis. “See what?”
The girl pointed. “The message you asked me to write. For ten dollars, I wanted to make sure you saw it.”
“Oh, that,” Julian responded. “Yes, I saw it. Thank you, I guess. It helped my sister here find my apartment.”
The girl’s face fell. “Your sister?”
Julian turned. “Yes, Whitney here is my…” He paused. “Where did she go?”
The girl shook her head slowly. “You were walking by yourself.”
“But we just went to the park together. We ate ice cream.” He held up his empty stick, but saw that he held two.
“I’m sorry, Julian. I watched you leave as well. But there was nobody with you.”
Julian rushed inside. “Whitney? Whitney, where are you?” He looked at the floor where she had entered, but there was no suitcase.
“Whitney?” he whispered.
The stillness that followed was broken only by a distant squeak.
After/Thought Literary 