Name That Memory
by Connor Olejnik
1st gear.
“Alright Mikey, who is this by?” Bryan asked as he switched from first to second gear.
“Again, really?” questioned Michael as he started to search his memory.
The headrest speakers filled his ears with familiar lyrics but did not remind him of any Rockstar, only times and places. Another red light brought them to a sudden stop. Bryan’s off-white 91 RX7 purred behind the stop line of the busy intersection.
“Just guess,” Bryan said.
“Hall and Oates?”
“No.”
“Foreigner?”
“Dude”—Bryan stared in awe at his younger brother while waiting for the colored bulbs to change—“’Hold the Line’, by Toto.”
The light turned green and with another smooth switch, the old Mazda twisted down 1st Avenue.
“What about this one?” he continued, trying to keep the game going.
Michael always thought of it as an endless battle, but it was pure pleasure for Bryan. Still, the older they got; the better Michael’s guesses were.
“Pink Floyd?”
3rd gear.
Bryan was disappointed by Michael’s musical ear, “After all these years?”
“The only time I listen to this crap is when I’m with you!” said Michael.
Bryan dropped to second gear and took another winding turn around the autumn stained trees.
Downshift.
Coasting.
Brakes.
They came to another stop.
“We are going to be late”—Michael checked his phone—”we were supposed to help set up.”
“We’ll have time”—Bryan habitually smacked the CD player below the broken clock—“What about this one?”
The carriageway was clear.
Block gear changed up to 5th.
Strong gusts of wind filtered through the rolled down windows, messing up Michael’s side swooped bangs but enhancing Bryan’s long brown flow. He went from lane to lane, passing the traffic.
“I’ll give you one hint… but it’s a stretch.”
“You’re a stretch.”
“Think America.”
“What?”
“Just think!”
“It’s hard to hear when every bump makes the CD skip a beat.”
“Now you’re making up excuses and insulting me?” asked Bryan.
Coasting.
Another red light.
“You’ve had this piece of junk since you dropped out of high school, just get something new.”
Bryan shook his head admittingly. The RX7 he adoringly named after Lindsey Buckingham’s better half had seen better days, but he still took good care of her. She was always clean. There wasn’t much rust given all the winters she had seen, and it was obvious he gave her a good wax every three months.
“Hey man, Stevie Nicks the Speedy Quicks has never lost a race,” bragged Bryan.
“Yeah but you sure have,” said Michael.
“Alright, one more hint—Bryan adjusted the fishing lure that hung under his rearview mirror—“think about our trip up north to Gram’s cabin over the summer.”
Despite the fact that the last trip wasn’t like every other year, this was still Michael’s favorite place on Earth.
“Blue Oyster Cult?”
“No”—Bryan laughed at his brother—“think patriotism.”
“The Eagles!” shouted Michael.
________________________
It was 3:00 p.m. The two brothers were neither late nor early as they strolled down South Oak Street. By this time, they were each tired of music and sat dulled in trance-like states. Michael observed the historical-style homes and admired the rows of old arboreal beauties on each edge of the road.
“There’re so empty,” said Michael.
“What?” Bryan asked, after having his own deep thought interrupted.
“The sidewalks”—he wiped his runny nose—“they were never this empty.”
They circled the cul-de-sac at the end of South Oak and parked in front of house 326. Bryan threw on his jacket and went straight for the door as Michael dug through the trunk for a poorly wrapped package crowned by a card. He grabbed the gifts and shut the trunk when, suddenly, his face was strangled from behind with a pinch on both ears.
“Don’t forget your mask nerd!” Bryan said, as he hustled back towards the door.
After fixing his hair in the window reflection and adjusting his mask, Michael noticed his Great Aunt and Uncle parked right in front of Bryan’s Mazda.
Their car was still running.
Michael went to say hi, but heard the muffled sobbing of a man’s voice coming from the red van and quickly turned around.
He met Bryan at the front banging on the door.
“We’re supposed to go to the back,” he said, “start reading the group messages.”
________________________
Michael opened the side gate to the backyard, a place he spent many days while growing up. In a glance, he noticed the changes. The old tire swing was now half a rope hanging from the lobbed leaved oak. Half of the wired fence was now seven-foot wood planks to hide the alley on the other side. The koi pond was emptied with a concaved leaf guard on top. The once prohibited firepit was now featured in the center of the yard.
They were instantly greeted by their Aunt Autumn.
“Hello, hello!” she said, while unfolding some extra chairs.
“I need you boys to go into the basement and grab the table by the boiler.”
“The table?”–Bryan muttered—“we’re eating outside?”
“Dude for real, check your phone once in a while.” said Michael.
The two brothers went into the house from the back door right as their Great Aunt and Uncle entered the yard.
“Frank, Rosemary!”—Autumn went in for a hug but then held herself back—“sorry, force of habit.”
“Oh it’s alright dear”—Rosemary held up her right arm—“Elbows.”
“Frank, I am so sorry for your loss, and thank you for coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss it”—Frank took off his mask and glasses to wipe his eyes and blow his nose—“for the world.”
“Can I get you anything?” asked Autumn.
“The cider is in that crock pot, it’s probably about war—”
“Coffee, please.” interrupted Frank.
Michael and Bryan had come out the door huffing and puffing from under their masks.
“Gosh Aunt Autumn; you know they sell plastic tables nowadays?” asked Bryan.
The gate swung open again and rattled the half of the yard’s perimeter that wasn’t wood.
________________________
The yard grew smaller. Each chair was six feet apart and filled by one body and then another. Some fifteen friends and family members had just got comfortable when the table was finally set.
A long white tablecloth met the damp grass and fallen leaves. Warm cider and pumpkin pie on the left side and gifts and cards on the right. In the center between two bottles of hand sanitizer was a chocolate cake topped with strawberries and candles that resembled an eight and zero.
Everyone seemed to scoot their seats a little closer to the fire pit to warm up. Their masks became chin diapers when they started to sip and snack.
Each age group was present, so there was an answer to every question going around.
In the midst of their conversations, no one but Michael and Bryan had noticed, but their second cousin Karen had taken a scoop of bean dip straight to her face shield while everyone was catching up. Luckily, their masks silenced the repressed chuckles that slipped out of their mouths.
Michael answered the questions about college.
“It’s the same really, I just don’t have to wear pants to class.”
His sister Molly and her fiancé who started the impressive fire explained how their wedding would go in December.
“Yes, two rooms with fifty people in each” explained Molly.
“But all the siblings and us will go from the ceremony to the reception” her beloved added.
No one quite knew what they meant, but held sympathy for them and applauded their attempt at making the best out of a bad situation.
Bryan explained how the pandemic ruined the drop shipping model for his “Strange Shurt” company, and Karen gave a visual demonstration as to why she had to wear a face shield instead of a mask.
“The masks give me migraines, but this is a safe substitution.”
Rosemary explained to Molly and her fiancé’s parents that they had just came from Frank’s best friend’s funeral.
But it was Frank himself who had finally spoke up and asked the question everyone was really wondering.
“So, where’s my big sister, where is the birthday girl?”
The clacking of a walker behind his chair answered his question.
A few moments later, they were singing that song that no one wants to hear. Especially for the 80th time of their life.
The cake was covered with clear wrap and had two holes for the candles. Autumn gave Grandma Linda a squirt bottle to make her wish.
Then, it started to rain.
________________________
Several minutes later the party was divided into the porch, the living area, and dining room. By the time Michael, Bryan and Molly’s fiancé got everything inside, they were completely soaked.
Bryan dripped into the living room.
“Hey google, play My Sweet Lord by George Harrison.”
Michael saw his grandmother go back to the kitchen after using the restroom. He grabbed his gifts and card and followed. He noticed the cover of the card was slightly smudged, and the wrapping paper to his gifts were breaking down.
“Granny, Happy Birthday”
The front of the card had his grandmother’s favorite question written in acrylic paint, “Have I told you lately that I love you?” Inside was a poem of poor handwriting.
At the end of every day, I love you.
“Awe, thank you.”
This was odd and not the reaction Michael expected. He thought that maybe she would go back and read it with her glasses later on.
She opened the wrapping and found what were two gifts. The first gift was one of her Christmas cookies tins. Some crumbs still shook inside. The other gift was a Spanish Rosetta Stone boxset she gave him before he started school.
“Wow. Thank you so much”, she said.
She hugged him.
“I love you.”
Michael’s stomach churned.
This was a memory he knew he would never forget.
“I love you too.”