Haunted By You

By Raya Menev

Nora Hayes returns to Odessa after ten years of her twin sister's disappearance, yet she still heads her sister's voice in the back of her mind. It's been a decade of escaping the people who have hurt her the most. But those people are the ones who hold all the answers to where her sister went, and when Talia's body is discovered, every plan Nor

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rayane Neves
• Release date: Jul 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781088063804

Book preview

HAUNTED

BY  YOU

how well do you remember?

RAYA MENEV

Haunted By You

Copyright © 2022 by Raya Menev.

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Book and Cover design by Raya Menev

ISBN: 978-0880-6380-4

First Edition, 2022

10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1

To those who are overcoming trauma.

Grieving is to have the courage to relive it all, to heal around the loss and to know it will never be forgotten.

1

Too often have I thought about what it would be like to come back to a place where I’ve run from. I didn’t move on from the life I grew up in. I ran off desperately trying to get away from you.

Do you remember when we moved to Odessa? My first memory of this town are the Christmas lights wrapped around the light posts. Mom was worried about the constant rain, something Washington was known for. But dad assured her we’d all fall in love with the Pacific Northwest.

Odessa hasn’t changed, not really. After ten years, the sidewalks have been repaved but most of the stores remain the same. Apart from the old pharmacy. This is what mom eventually fell in love with, a quaint small town embellished with flowers outside the windows of most storefronts. It was a distraction she had from the nips of alcohol scattered throughout the streets and the needles hidden in alleys.

The car service driver turns off Main Street and up the foggy road. It’s uphill but it doesn’t feel as high as it used to when we were kids. It felt so much higher back then. The trees looked taller, never ending sometimes. The world seemed bigger then. The driver pulls up to our childhood home and places the car into park. My stomach turns as I hesitate to get out of the car.

Thank you, I say to him as my shaking hands grasp onto the door handle. I almost lost a step.

I didn’t realize how nervous I’d be until now as I stand in front of mom’s door with shaking hands. My stomach is in knots, and I can feel the cold sweat on the back of my neck. I ring the doorbell and wait. Looking over, I’m surprised to see how mom has let her garden go. The buttercups and lilies that once stood tall are now nonexistent. The grass is so dry they almost look burnt. It doesn’t look like the same house I left behind.

The door swings open causing a strong gust of wind to push me towards the door. Mom’s eyes are bright with her fine lines creased. Her naturally light brown hair has been placed into a low bun, making her lightly placed make-up a little more noticeable.

Oh, my beautiful daughter, she smiles cupping my face with her hands. My cheeks flush at her warmth. Her touch brings me back to the last time I saw her, two years ago. Come inside!

I follow her inside, closing the door behind me. I feel like a stranger, as if I’ve never been in this home before. Everything is different. The furniture. The colors. Everything. It’s a reminder of the thing I’ve chosen to miss out on.

Mom rushes into the kitchen placing her apron back on around her waist. I follow her into the kitchen leaving my bag by the entryway. I watch her open the oven and take a pan out. It smells great, but something’s missing. Looking to the floor, I expect Mocha to be by my feet, but she’s not. Glancing over at her corner, I notice mom’s already gotten rid of her doggy bowls, along with her mat. She’s gone too. It’s hard to imagine this house without the small little yorkie running around. She was the puppy that brought the extra joy we needed around the house. We used to fight over her until she picked which one of us she wanted to sleep with that night.

The house is so quiet that all the attention goes back to watching mom with her baked goods. Looking down at the counter in front of me, I’m reminded of when I would do my homework while mom would make her creations. Our favorite part was having the leftover batter from the bowl.

Steps coming down the stairs startle me for a second, not expecting anyone else to be here. My head snaps towards the doorway to see Miles standing there. He looks so different. I didn’t think the three years since Christmas in New York could make such a difference, but it does. He’s let his hair grow out, a few inches down his neck. His boyish face is still there, yet more defined.

Hi, I say.

Hey, he says in monotone.

He still hasn’t forgiven me for my absences, it’s clear in his eyes.

I’ll be back later, he announces before walking away. Mom waves goodbye even though he’s gone. The door slams shut leaving the house quiet again.

Did he decide which school he’s going to go to? I ask mom crushing the silence.

He decided on NYU, near your dad. It helped that his girlfriend got accepted there too, mom smiles.

A girlfriend? my eyes widen at the thought.

Yeah, a sweet girl from the next town over, she grins like she’s showing off to her friends. She continues to tell me about who she is and who her family is. I begin to zone out as she brags about the girl. I know mom has a tendency of exaggerating things to fit her world.

That’s great… I half smile once I realized she finished. Having to watch him grow up from afar, I’ve missed all of his big milestones. His first day of high school, prom, and graduation. Everything.

Silence falls upon us again and all I can hear is the whipping of the frosting in the baking bowl. This is the way mom bakes now, in silence. She no longer put on music. She doesn’t dance around while she bakes anymore. It’s no longer fun to watch her bake.

Do you mind if I go put my bag in the guest room? I ask, breaking her concentration.

She gives me a strange look before letting out a sigh.

Your room is upstairs, Nora.

Thanks I nod ignoring her comment.

With my bag in hand, I walk to the guest room off by the living room. The room has remained plain yet comfortable enough for the night. I place my bag on the bed before coming back into the living room. The stairs leading towards the second floor echoes our running steps. I begin taking a few steps up the stairs. The red carpet on the steps is gone, leaving behind just the wooden steps. The wooden handles are now stained to look darker.

Nothing seems familiar. Not even the same smell. Maybe it’s because of the picked flowers mom used to bring inside. The floral scents are gone, replaced by a wood polishing smell. I didn’t realize how much of this home I did remember until seeing how different it looks now. All the paintings that were once placed on the walls are now gone. Even with the bareness of it all, the memories are still so vivid in my mind.

The second door to the right is stripped of all the stickers that were once glued onto it. Turning the knob, I’m not sure what to expect but I’m still surprised to see my old bedroom. My bed is still placed up against the wall in the middle. The dressers are still in their places. But it’s still different.

Nothing is dusty, like mom’s been in here within the last few days.

I make my way towards the boxes in the corner. The boxes are semi packed, like Mom tried to pack up what she could. I open the first box to see all my old notebooks and journals organized neatly. My fingertips graze them, taking in all the things they hold from those years in this house.

The next box contains old year books and memorabilia from school. Some of which I’ve never bothered to open, and some that mom forced me to order. Things I would have thrown out if I were mom. The clothes I decided to leave behind are still neatly folded in the drawers of the dresser. But they don’t smell musty. It’s when I take a whiff of them that I realize that they smell like laundry detergent. Mom washed my unused clothes before I arrived. Just in case I wanted to take some back home to Chicago.

But there’s only one set of clothes that I can think of not ever wanting to see again. Rushing over to my closet, I open the doors and reach up towards the top shelf. In the corner I desperately grasp onto the black box labeled CDs. When I feel the familiar heaviness of it, I take a breath of relief. The hollow feeling in my chest is no longer there. The heaviness on my shoulder begin to lift away.

I place the box back without the need to open it. Taking a step back from the closet, I look around. I’m a ghost in my own room. I’m not the same girl that left ten years ago.

Leaving the room, I’m able to take a deep breath. It’s just as overwhelming as I imagined. I’m not sure if the guest room will be far enough away. I have to leave as soon as I get up tomorrow and maybe never look back again.

With my hand still on the doorknob of my room, I glance over to my left. I can’t stop staring at the door next to mine. I don’t know if it’s out of curiosity or something else. My grasp leaves my door and grabs onto the next. My heart speeds up as I begin turning it. You would have thrown a fit for not knocking first.

Boxes are nowhere in sight. It doesn’t look like my room at all. Instead, it looks as if the world stopped ten years ago. I take a few steps inside, taking in everything around me. Nothing in your room has been touched. Not the bed, the drawers, or even the clothes thrown onto the floor. Mom hasn’t touched or cleaned a single thing in your room after all these years.

I drag my finger against the top of your dresser, collecting the dust on my fingertips. I blow the dust off, watching the particles fly into the air. Looking down at your vanity, I come across all the lotions and perfumes you used to wear. I bring one of them to my nose. It’s like you’re in the room with me.

Placing the perfume back onto the vanity, I glance up at the mirror in front of me. But it isn’t me who I see. It’s the memory of you I see, Talia. Your long brown hair replaces my short dark hair. I know it’s you because of the way your hair is parted to the side. I never did that with mine.

Your eyes stare into me waiting for something. An answer I could never give you.

2

Here’s your tea and coffee! the barista beams as she hands me my to go cup. I immediately feel the warmth on my hands as I take it from her. I hold the tea close to my mouth just to feel the steam coming out of the opening of the lid.

Taking another look around the coffee shop, I don’t see Kira. I grab a table beside me and take a seat with the drink still in my hands. The coffee shop on Main Street still stands. Puya Beans. Some of it has been remodeled, but it’s all recognizable. I’m relieved the coffee shop isn’t as crowded as I used to remember it being. It wasn’t my first choice to meet here with Kira, but she assured me it would be fine. She’s come back to Odessa far more often than I would ever have.

I take a small sip of my tea, only to burn the tip of my tongue. I swear at myself because I do this every time I choose to drink something hot. I’m too impatient for it to cool down.

By the window there’s still a booth. The comforting feeling makes me question myself. That part of the coffee shop hasn’t gone away. It’s the table dad used to bring us to every Sunday before Miles was born. Every Sunday it would be two hot chocolates and chocolate chip cookies, no matter the season. While Dad would read his newspaper, you and I would color in our unicorn coloring books.

Once Miles came along, hot chocolate Sundays became less and less until it became a tradition that me and you tried to continue ourselves. It became our place to go after school. It was where we would talk about friends we didn’t like, where you would talk about boys while I was too embarrassed to tell you who my crush was. I was never as open as you. Maybe because I was scared you wouldn’t understand. Our tradition ended abruptly just as our relationship.

I look down at the time on my phone. It’s already been ten minutes. Just as I’m about to send her a text, the shop door swings open. My head snaps up to see Kira rushing in with a smile on her face.

I would make up some excuse, but you know how Ma can be she grins. Her mom never wants her to leave when she visits. Becoming an only child when we were fourteen after her older brother’s overdose, made Kira become closer to her family. A tragedy that’s affected more of her life choices. Yet I chose to run from mine.

By taking off her hood, she uncovers her pin straight black hair not slightly affected by the humidity from the fog.

The one and only Kira Mai, I smile back at her, picking myself up from the seat.

Kira’s the friend I stole from you, you used to tell me that all the time. But mostly importantly she was the one who came to my defense, instead of you.

She embraces me like this every time she’s gone to Chicago. Her vanilla scented lotion drowns my nostrils but it’s a comforting smell. She’s quick to pull away, excited for the coffee on the table. As soon as we take a seat, the first thing she does is take a sip from her coffee.

So, tell me, how has it been being back here after all these years? she asks with nervous eyes.

I take a deep breath.

It’s like time stopped. Yet so different at the same time, I shake my head still trying to make sense of it all.

Has anyone said anything to you yet?

It’s only been a couple of hours, so I don’t think people realize I’m back in Odessa just yet, I say knowing there’s a wave of chatter coming my way.

That’s what this town is, full of chatter and rumors. Nothing has changed in ten years. It won’t change in the next twenty. But you secretly loved it. You loved knowing everyone’s secrets. Being back in Odessa, I know there will be rumors of you being back and I know it will torture mom. I know it will give her a glimmer of hope.

I’m surprised you’re not staying in Odessa longer, I’m sure the organization wouldn’t mind, Kira shrugs.

There’s just a lot of patients that need support right now at the hospital. They can’t be without anyone consistent for long, you know how it is.

There are plenty of social workers that could step in for you to spend some time with your family.

I probably shouldn’t have even come back for this I sigh, bringing the steaming cup of tea close to my mouth again. Still too hot.

You made the right decision, Nora. It’s your twin sister’s ten-year memorial. It’s important to your family Kira tries to assure me, but it doesn’t work. She doesn’t understand.

The memorial doesn’t have anything to do with anyone but my mom. She thinks that this big fancy memorial will somehow make Talia walk back through the front doors like she never left.

She can’t possibly think that.

I think she does I shrug.

I open the lid of the paper cup and blow on the top hoping that it will hurry up and not be as hot. A trick you taught me with the hot chocolates.

Are you still a baby about hot drinks? Kira teases.

Shut it I roll my eyes with a laugh.

Kira happily takes a sip of her coffee as she continues to make fun of me with her eyeliner perfectly winged accentuating her eyes. These are the moments that make me feel at home again. As if you didn’t flip all our lives upside down. Like nothing ever happened.

I think the memorial will be great. It’ll remind people to never stop looking for her. It’s a way for the town not to forget about her Kira explains.

Are you kidding? No one in Odessa will ever forget about Talia. They will never stop talking about her.

It was you who stopped coming for hot chocolates after school. You pushed my words to the side. You didn’t want to believe me. You said I was making things up in my head. It broke me yet I still came and sat in our booth waiting for you. But you never came. It was Kira who took your place across from me in the booth. Except she never liked hot chocolate. She’s been a coffee addict since before we met. That never changed.

Kira and I tried to continue the tradition when she would come to Chicago for a Social Tree conference, but it never felt right again.

The first-time dad visited me in Chicago, he took me out for a Sunday breakfast. He ordered himself a breakfast sandwich and me a hot chocolate. I guess trying to relive a good memory. It was horrible. Hot chocolate never tasted the same once I left Odessa. It all tasted burnt to me now, no matter where I got it from. But I couldn’t tell dad the truth. That memory could never be relived without you there.

What do you think happened to her? Kira asks, with her smile starting to fade.

I look away from her again, shaking my head. The answer to that question has changed so many times over the years, that my opinions don’t seem to matter anymore. You’re gone, but you’re still here.

Ten years is a terrifying amount of time for someone to just be gone. None of it makes sense I shrug.

I’m sorry.

I know tonight I’ll be hearing a lot more of that and I’m dreading it. I can already feel my head clouding up. I’m already out of breath. I can’t catch up to my breathing. It’s the same feeling I felt when I started packing to come back to Odessa. It’s the same feeling I had the night you went missing.

3

Your eyes stare into mine and I’m unable to look away. You’ve hooked me in once again. You’re calling for me, begging for me to listen. But I can’t hear your words. You need me but I can’t help you.

Your picture that’s placed in mom’s living room has been blown up onto a poster board. I haven’t been able to stop looking at it since I’ve arrived. Mom is guilty of staring back and forth between me and your picture. I ignore it, I won’t let it bother me.

With people starting to arrive in our childhood home for your ten-year memorial, dad isn’t here yet. He’s late. That’s if he even comes at all. The divorce was harder on dad, even if it was his decision. He couldn’t take mom’s obsession with you anymore. He wanted to move on, and she wasn’t letting him. Mom never seemed upset about the divorce, as if she saw it coming. Her priority became you once you disappeared. Another reason why Miles won’t talk to me. I should have been here for him when no one else was.

The table beside me is set up with wine glasses and about ten wine bottles behind them. It’s the same ones left over from the old family winery. The one that didn’t make it past 3 years of business. Only because our grandparents couldn’t continue it after our uncle’s funeral.

The first group of neighbors walk in giving their respects to mom. She motions for them to come into the living room that has now been turned into the reception area. Their eyes meet mine and they pause for a moment, taking my presence in. They didn’t expect me here.

Mom has thrown this memorial reception in our home every year since the disappearance. Every year I would give her a different excuse on why I wouldn’t be able to make it. I tried coming. I tried being here to support you. I would pack my bags, but my legs wouldn’t move to get me through the door every time. A migraine would take over leaving me paralyzed in bed every year.

Nora, one of the neighbors’ smiles. She touches my hair for a moment taking in how much I’ve changed over the past ten years. I like the short hair on you.

Thank you, I give her a polite smile, taking a glass of wine from the table.

The more people walk in, the more comments on how different I look I receive. They miss my filled cheeks that have now been replaced by a thinned and drawn version of them. Some of the neighbors’ comment on the drastic change in hair like the first one did. Others comment on the heavier make-up I’ve done for the night. I wonder if mom’s ever showed them any current pictures of me at all.

As the next-door neighbor begins telling me about how much Odessa has changed, more familiar faces arrive. This time from the high school. Teachers I haven’t seen since graduation, are greeted by the door by mom. These are the same teachers that almost didn’t let either of us graduate, but mom’s charm won them over.

I think the neighbor catches onto my lack of attention because she excuses herself from me. I bring the glass of wine to my lips hoping for the heaviness to be lifted off my chest.

Miles walks down the stairs quickly with a hint of a smile on his face. Like a mask to show to everyone. His gaze catches mine but he’s the first one to look away. He greets a group of boys his age by one of the tables set up. They all look out of place, maybe because they didn’t know who you were. Are. Were?

I let out an external sigh of relief when Kira walks through the door. I can’t talk to your guests anymore. They aren’t looking at me. They are trying to search for you in my eyes.

As Kira walks closer towards me, I see another familiar face behind her. He doesn’t follow her steps. He stays by the door for a couple of moments paying his respects to mom.

Hey, Kira says.

My attention stays on him. I can’t believe he’s here. He turns and walks towards our brother. The stubble on his cheeks ages him, like it’s intended I suppose. But his eyes look the same. Miles smiles as he approaches and embraces him. Something neither of us would have ever expected.

What are you staring at?

I look over at Kira sipping from a glass of wine. I watch her eyes gaze over to where they’re standing. Pouring myself more red wine, I prepare myself for whatever Kira will say. Because she will say something.