Departure

A tall figure stood gracefully alone in an empty room. He sighed once, a sorrowful sound, and closed his eyes to imagine once more that the room was again full of furniture, full of life. There was his bed, there were his dressers. His closet was nice and full; just how he liked it. And over there was his jewelry box, necklaces dangling, shimmering in the light that streamed through elegantly draped windows. There were the doilies that his mother had insisted would rest atop virtually every piece of furniture, the ones that he had hated, but left there because he knew his she would just kill him if he took them off, even though they lived miles apart. There was that hole in the wall where the doorknob’s lock had punctured the drywall; his twin had made it one night while coming to save the young man from his nightmares.

He opened his eyes once again to see the shiny wooden floors empty, without his soft, furry rug, with scratches and scrapes from the furniture being moved so many times. Bill always did like rearranging, refreshing.

This surely was a rearrangement, He thought as he absently watched the sun-illuminated dust flakes floating through the stale, strange smelling air. Nothing was the same without all the little things that made home home. He hummed a little tune, knowing it would echo on the empty walls, echo in his seemingly empty heart. A tear made its way down his imperfect face, and splashed deafeningly on the wood floor.

“Bill?” His twin called softly from where he stood in the doorway of the room.

Bill looked up and smiled weakly, temporarily calmed by the familiar face staring back at him.

“I was going to ask whether you were okay… But I don’t think I need to.” Tom said in calming German, his look mirroring that of his twin. Sad, nostalgic.

“I’m… managing.” Bill whispered. Even this breathy utterance seemed to reverberate forever. He sniffled.

“I know.” Tom said simply, looking away from his brother to pick at the peeling paint in the door jam. White gave way to an aged cream, which faded to a dark green if he scratched hard enough.

“It’s not exactly about the house,” Bill said, concentrating on the dust in the air, and then the patterns of shade that leaves outside made on the dingy window panes, “it’s more about… what this represents.”

Tom nodded, watching his brother’s face as the singer reached out to swipe dust from the windowsill and blow it into the air, displacing it just because he could.

“It’s not… It’s not like we grew up here… We’ve just…” He shook his head, turning back toward the man in the doorway, at a loss for what to say, unsure of how to explain. “It’s something normal, Tom. It’s what normal people have and should have. Security. Safety. Somewhere to get away from the world and just… exist.”

The man with cornrows nodded, shoving his hands in his pants pockets and dropping his gaze to the ground. He knew exactly what his brother meant. He had been thinking the exact same thing only minutes before as he had stood in his own room one last time.

“But that’s what we’ve chosen, Bill.” He said, looking up once again, making eye contact with Bill. “We know, or should know, that nothing for us is normal. It’s just the way things are right now. Maybe… Maybe someday we’ll be able to come back.”

The slender man nodded, raising his hands up to daintily press his temples with manicured fingers. He sighed and allowed his hands to slide down and become neck supports; he was getting a tension headache.

“I hope so, Tom.” He said, volume lowering once again to a whisper. The older twin sighed again.

“Come on. It’s time.” He said and moved his head to the right, indicating that they needed to head out front.

Bill sighed and took one more good look at his room – his former room – before following his brother out the door, down the hall, and out the front door. They walked silently down the four stone steps to the walkway and all the way down to the end of the driveway, where a driver was waiting, all the while, wishing that this last couple months’ turn of events hadn’t come to pass.

As he reached the two gray half-walls, he stopped abruptly and turned to jog to the wooden fence separating their former backyard with the rest of Seevetal. The man, now more boyish, peeked through the dying leaves for one last glance at the gray siding he had become accustomed to seeing.

As he watched several twigs blowing in the chilly breeze of October, he suddenly felt a warm hand on top of his. He didn’t need to look down to know that it was his brother.

“I just don’t want to go… I mean… I love America, but… Germany…”

“It’s your home.” Tom said, wrapping an arm securely around his little brother’s shoulders. “It’s our home. And we’ll be back, I promise. In fact, you know we’ll be back in a few weeks for Weihnachten.”

Bill nodded and looked down, leaning with his elbows on the fence and fooling with his sweater’s sleeve, a tear slipping down his face. Tom noticed, and sighing, leaned forward to rest his forehead on Bill’s shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay. I promise.” He whispered into his twin’s ear and the younger man shivered slightly.

“Sorry.” The elder apologized, and Bill waved it off, standing up straight and swiping at his eyes with his sleeve.”

“Are you ready?” Tom asked gently, and Bill nodded, sighing.

“Let’s go.” He murmured and the two brothers walked to get into the car waiting.

As the car drove away, Bill craned his neck to get one last glimpse of their house. Their former house. He wished they weren’t leaving. He wished no one had broken in. He wished that the fans weren’t as crazy as they could be sometimes. He almost went so far as to wish they didn’t have any fans, but stopped himself.

Tom was right. This was the life he had signed up for, and he didn’t regret it; at least that’s what he told himself. Was he right? He didn’t really know. All he knew at this point was that they were driving away from Seevetal and then flying out of Hamburg to go to America where they would start all over from scratch. Rebuilding everything they were leaving behind at this very instant.

Bill twisted back around to face the front and trained his eyes out the window, concentrating on memorizing every detail. Every bush, shrub, and tree. Trying to make memories that he hadn’t before.

Then, once again, Tom’s hand was touching his, picking it up off of the seat and tangling their fingers together, offering assurance. Bill pried his eyes away from the window to turn to his brother, looking him in the eye, reading what the two identical brown orbs told him.

It’s gonna be okay.

Bill pursed his lips, but nodded and smiled a tight smile.

He sure hoped so.