“I just need to go out for a quick walk down to the river.” Charlotte answered, ending the argument with her mother. Hopefully long enough that I don’t have to go to the memorial, her inner voice concluded, even though she would never dare say that aloud. I just can’t let him go. 

Running down the beaten path to the Willamette River, dust covering her shoes and the bottom of her dress. The ribbon tying her hair into a neat bun flew off, and her hair started to flow behind her, as if she were in water.

Bitter memories were trying to fight their way through Charlotte’s consciousness, but her stubbornness will keep them at bay…for now. She doesn’t know how long she can keep them out of her mind, hopefully forever, but probably not. The loss of her older brother, Oscar, had made everything worse, she missed him, he and his twin, Alphonse, had done so much for her. She didn’t know how to go one without him. 

Whoosh! Is what she heard as she approached the river. Watching the water lap at the edges and then sprint through the middle, running all the way over the waterfall. Charlotte heard a little clink, and watched the locket Oscar gave her right before he died, fall from her neck. Before it could hit the ground and break, she scooped it up and held it close to her heart. The locket opened in the fall and she saw the photo of her and her brothers by the river, doing some learning. It was one of her favorite memories with her brothers. The second after that she felt like gates had opened, and those memories broke free. 

As the wave of memories swept her into their depths, to her dismay, pulling her into its waters of happiness, and sadness, and remorse. However, that first memory was a strong one, like a riptide pulling you out to sea, and just as bittersweet. This memory took place about five months before.

The car door slammed, as their father threw another suitcase in, “Are you guys taking things for your roommates too? There’s enough stuff for five grown men!” he called, putting his hands on his hips.

“We want to be prepared for anything.” Oscar replied, punching his twin playfully in the arm, “Right Alphonse?”

Alphonse nodded, laughing with the rest of their family, but Charlotte wasn’t there. As a thirteen year old, her brothers leaving was one of the worst days she’d ever experienced. Her brothers were her everything, her best friends in the whole wide world. As she sat on the porch steps, she felt tears crawl down her face, leaving a wet, salty trail behind them.

“Charlotte?” Oscar asked, walking over to her and pulling off his cap, “Everything ok?”
Charlotte tried to speak, but no words came out, so she just shook her head. Oscar sat down next to her and pulled her close. Words finally popped out. “I don’t know what to do without you two.” Charlotte whimpered, crying even harder.

Alphonse had sauntered over by then and sat down on her other side, wiping the tears from her cheek, then from her clear blue eyes. Knowing his brother should speak, he stole a glance at his twin, and they nodded.

“You’ll see us again, plus you’re a tough young woman. You’ll be fine. We’ll come back to you. And if we don’t…” Oscar started, but was cut off by Charlotte.

“What do you mean, ‘and if we don’t’? You’ll come back… right?” Charlotte demanded, straightening and staring her brother in the eye.

Oscar and Alphonse sighed in unison, “We will come back. I was just being nonsensical.” Oscar lied, because he knew that the outside world might take them away. The day he died, Charlotte was devastated that he had been right all along.

Charlotte felt better and gave them each a hug. They still left, but she was ok, and she was ready to be there when they came back for Thanksgiving. 

That memory made Charlotte’s heart constrict, her brother broke his promise, because he never made it back home. Then, as if a lightning bolt had struck, another memory pulled her in… and this one was the one she had been dreading the most.

A monitor beeps as it deciphers the patient's pulse. Charlotte looks in through the door and sees her older brother attached to the tubes, snaking under his skin as if they were taking his color away. She knocks on the frame of the door. 

“Come in,” her brother called, with a strained, weak voice, as if saying something was taking all the strength in his body. 

Tears were ready to march down her cheeks, but she held them in, trying to be strong for him, “Are you going to be ok?” she asked, her voice cracked as she said ‘going.’

The smile on her brother’s face vanished, “Come here,” he said, as he sat up and patted the spot next to him.

Charlotte reluctantly came over, knowing what her brother was going to say. That she was going to lose him.

To her dismay, Oscar confirmed her fears, “Charlie,” he said, that was his favorite nickname for her, “the doctors don’t have much hope for recovery. They don’t know how long I’ll last, and I want you and Alphonse to be there for eachother.” he looks at her and Alphonse, who was quietly entering the room.

Charlotte was shocked, not by the news, she knew that was going to happen, but her other brother was crying. She had never seen him cry, not even when their pet dog, Rex, had passed away. Alphonse sat down next to Charlotte, and wrapped an arm around his brother and sister. He squeezed them tight, but not too tight that it would hurt Oscar.

“No.” Charlotte said, shaking her head, “No!” The tears she had fought so hard to keep back finally came down like floodgates had burst open. “You can’t die! I can’t live without you and Alphonse!”

“You’ll always have us.” Oscar said, “Even if one of us isn’t here in person.” He looked at Alphonse, and let his twin pull Charlotte closer. Oscar nodded, tears coming down from him too, then he reached over and opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled two silver pieces of metal out from it. “I bought these with the last of my college funds.” Oscar explained, and gave one of the pieces to each of his siblings.

Alphonse got a pocket watch, and a smooth locket in the design of a rhombus was given to Charlotte. She opened the locket, and a photo of her and her brothers was in it, back when they were younger. “I remember this…” she breathed, “we used to go and identify fish, and Alphonse would teach me how to spell their names.” All three laughed at the recognition, and they chatted away for the rest of the night, talking about the past, and what had happened before Oscar had gotten sick.

Charlotte sunk into the ground, remembering everything that made her laugh and cry about her brothers. Then she heard footsteps coming down the beaten path. “Hello Alphonse,” she said, staring at the grass, when she gasped.

“What is it?” he asked, and sat down next to her.

“Danaus plexippus.” She breathed, scooping them up in her hands, “Oscar’s favorite.”

Standing, she handed one to her remaining brother, and they stood like that for a long time. Yet, Charlotte couldn’t be happy because, deep down, she knew that nothing she did would bring her brother back. She knew that she would have to live without him… but, after remembering her brother and letting the memories flow, it felt like a weight had been lifted from her heart. Like, even though Oscar wasn’t there, that he was there. That she could keep going and that she didn’t need to hang on to everything that was his.

She knew it was time to send them back. The caterpillars softly wriggled in her hand, spelling out goodbye. Charlotte nodded, smiling softly. “There you go little guys.” Charlotte said, gently setting them back onto the dirt. As she stood up, she leaned into her brother.

Alphonse took the pocket watch from his sweater and looked at it, “You ready to go to the memorial, Charlotte?” he asked, facing her.

Charlotte had all the emotions swimming around her, but said, “Yes. I think I am.”

Then she realized that her brother must have made the locket fall, since it had been clasped on her neck. Thanks for the visit, Oscar, she thought, I love you. 

And so, they went to the memorial, and were mournful, yet full of love. Every day of every year, Charlotte missed her brother, but not as much as before. She was able to keep moving forward. She went to college, got married and had children later on, and lived as close to her family as possible, always remembering that day with the locket.