Welcome Home Riley

A crashing sound startled me awake. I bolted out of bed, my heart pounding. What the hell was that? Another crash came from downstairs. Oh, my god. Someone was in the house. What do I do? I thought frantically. I needed to call the police. Where was my cell phone? Scanning my dressers and nightstand I couldn’t see it. Then I remembered. I’d left it on the kitchen counter the night before, along with everything else I’d need for my first day of school. Well wasn’t that just craptastic. Good one Noah.
Barely breathing, I tiptoed to my closet and swung it open noiselessly. Leaning against the wall was an old hockey stick from my middle school days. Bingo. I grabbed it and stealthily crept from my room and down the stairs, my heart threatening to pound its way out of my chest. It seemed like someone was rummaging around in the kitchen. I could hear cursing and a draw being slammed shut. Great. My cell was in there. So was the closest landline. The other phone was in the living room. To get to it I’d have to walk past the kitchen door. So basically I had two options. Try to sneak past and get to the phone in the living room, or face the intruder head on and hope I had a good swing in me. Rearranging my grip on the stick, I opted for plan B. No way was I going to let some b*****d scare me in my own house.
Letting out a shriek like a banshee I charged into the kitchen, hockey stick raised like a cricket bat.
The intruder screamed and spun around to face me.
“Riley!?”
“Jesus Christ Noah! You scared the crap out of me.”
My brother leaned heavily on the kitchen island, one hand over his heart. His everyday suit looked crumpled, like he’d slept in it and he had a few days growth covering his angular jaw.
“I scared the crap out of you?” I screeched. “You’re the one crashing about the house at-” I checked my wrist, where there was no watch. Not that I ever wore one, but recent events had me more than a little flustered. “-well, whatever time it is this early in the morning! Aren’t you supposed to be in Japan or something?”
“China,” he said, running a hand through his short brown hair and attempting to smooth out his suit. “As you can see, I came back early.”
“Whatever.” I scowled at him, a little peeved that he’d just scared the bejeezus out of me.
“Well, this isn’t quite the welcome home I expected,” he said, glancing at the hockey stick. “But it’s nice to see you, kid.”
Unable to stay mad at him, I dropped the stick onto the island and leaped towards him. He caught me in a tight hug and in that moment, all of my loneliness evaporated. My big brother was home. Nothing could have made me happier. Okay, maybe one other thing could have: him being home for good. No more business trips. No more of his brief trips home where I was constantly filled with dread and anticipation of the next time he would leave. Yes, I was definitely tired of living alone, while Riley used our house as a pit stop.
We broke apart, with Riley ruffling my hair and smiling broadly.
“It’s your first day of school right? How about I make you breakfast.”
I was about to tell him I wasn’t hungry, that I never ate early in the morning, but his hopeful expression made me bite my tongue. He was in such a good mood and I was loathe to ruin it. It was like he finally sensed my feelings about our lack of relationship and was trying to make up for it in his own way. Heck, if he was making breakfast as an apology, maybe things were looking up. Maybe this time it would be different. Dare I hope that he’d decided to make a lifestyle change? One that meant he‘d stop treating our house like a hotel? No. That was to good to be true, I decided, crushing that little flare of hope inside me before it could crush me like it had many times before. And looking deep into his hazel eyes, I could see it. He was still Riley duke, co-owner and President of Azalea Shipping. Not Riley Duke, loving brother of Noah Duke. But, even as that familiar feeling of dread washed over me, that nagging thought in the back of my head rearing up to tell me “he’s only going to leave again”, I found myself being caught up in his good mood. Might as well enjoy the time we do have together, I thought.
“Breakfast sounds great.”
I pushed my tangled hair away from my face and jumped up onto a kitchen stool, watching as Riley opened and shut cupboards, locating a frying pan and spatula. Grabbing several eggs, a loaf of bread and a carton of orange juice from the fridge, he set about making scrambled eggs on toast.
“So how was China?” I asked, accepting a glass of juice from him. He’d been gone for eight weeks, his longest trip yet. Apparently the Chinese were having some problems with their main branches due to a whopping 300 per cent growth in customers. Azalea Shipping was becoming ever so popular because it charged a few dollars less than all of its competitors.
“Good. There’s such a high demand right now that they want two more branches. One in Tianjin and another in Shanghai.”
My good mood vanished, and that deep feeling of dread intensified at his news. Two new branches. That could only mean one thing.
“You’ll be overseeing the development of both branches?”
I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice, but it managed to seep through anyway. If he went back to China to oversee, he’d be gone for at least four months. Was he really going to leave me alone for that long?
Suddenly, cooking scrambled eggs seemed to take way more concentration than it warranted as Riley ducked his head and went quiet.
“Well?” I prompted.
He sighed heavily, before finally meeting my gaze.
“I’m sorry No, but there’s no one else I trust to do it. It’s too important a job to hand over to an amateur. But I swear, after this, I’ll hire someone to take over and I’ll be home for good.”
Why was I finding it so hard to believe him? Oh, that’s right.
“That’s what you said last time.” And the time before that. And again, the time before that.
“I know, but I haven’t had the chance to train someone properly. These things take time. After I’m done in China, things should settle down enough for me to train someone up so I can step down and take a less active role in the company.”
I made a sour face at him, all thoughts of trying to preserve his good mood forgotten. He shook his head sadly, as if disappointed by my reaction.
Well, what did he expect after he just dropped that bomb. Peace and tranquillity? Understanding?
“Look, this really is the last time. I promise, okay?”
I was about to tell him that no, it wasn’t okay when his phone rang and he gave me the universal gesture for “one second” and answered it.
“Riley duke. Yeah, about that…” With that he brushed past me and out of the kitchen, no doubt heading for his home office.
“The last few weeks of my life have been fine, by the way. I got pushed through a window and I come home to an empty house every night,” I mumbled, but he’d already left the room. I looked at the egg mixture in the pan which had begun to bubble merrily.
“And thanks for cooking me breakfast.”
Sliding off the stool I trudged over to the stainless steel stovetop and picked up where he left off.

The school parking lot was already teeming with activity when I drove in an hour later. Students congregating around cars, catching up on their hot summer gossip. Drivers circling the lot for car parks. I sighed. Finding a spot large enough to accommodate my Dodge Ram was going to be a mission. It wasn‘t that the black truck was so big there wasn’t a space big enough. No, sadly it was because I lacked the ability to park a car. For some strange reason, even after a year of driving, I hadn‘t quite got the hang of it yet. Circling the lot, I found myself remembering sitting my licence. The instructor had been quite impressed with my driving, right up until the end, when he’d asked me to park the car in the building parking lot. I had swung in full speed and slammed on the break, missing the barrier in front of us by a mere inch, and the car beside us by less than that. The horrid look on his face made me wonder if I’d almost caused him a heart attack. We’d both had to squeeze out the drivers side door, my instructor a little shaky on his feet. I thought for sure I’d failed, and was so surprised when he handed me my shiny new licence that I’d hugged him. Now that I thought about it, he probably only issued the damn thing to make sure I didn’t come back. Riley, who had witnessed the whole thing from the safety of his car, was also shocked I’d passed. And when he’d taken me the next day to pick out a car, he hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry at my chosen vehicle: my black Dodge Ram. Still, true to his word, he’d purchased it, as well as slapped it with the best insurance he could get, and handed me the keys for better or for worse.
I inched toward the back, spotting a park right in front of me. Yes! Easy parking. I wouldn’t have to turn into one. Thankful for small blessings I drove into it and killed the engine. Grabbing my bag, I jumped from the cab and headed toward the entrance. A group of freshman crowding a car several feet away stopped their chatter to admire my Ram. I had to admit, it was one of the nicer cars driven by a student.
“Nice ride,” a redheaded guy said as I passed him. I offered a tentative smile in response and kept walking. It wasn’t until I was fifty feet from the entrance that I stopped dead in my tracks. There, nestled among the other cars, was a sleek black Ford Mustang, the exact model of the one Tyson drove. Gaping, I moved closer to the car, wondering if it was indeed his. Could it really be? Was he a student here? No. That was ridiculous. If he was a student here, I damn sure would have noticed him last year. Although I supposed he could be a new student. I shook my head. Not likely. And It wasn’t like he was the only person who owned a car like that. It could’ve been anyone’s. Forcing myself away from the vehicle and towards the main entrance of the school, I purged all Tyson related thoughts from my mind. It wasn’t his. He wasn’t here. It was just wishful thinking on my part. I mean, seriously. What were the odds?