Lester closed his eyes as he leaned against the wall inside the deafening restaurant. 

Amid the shouts and chatter he came back to thinking about his sister. Green eyes, frilly sleeves of dress, and wispy blond hair always in a tangle. Both of them had known that when Lester said he was going to the city, he was lying. Instead staying in the village with his outcast father so that she would get the comfort of a new dependable father. And on that day she had held his hands to say ‘I’ll sneak out at night so we can play ". But sis was a deep sleeper and mother too disapproving. 

He felt an edge bump into his chest and opened his eyes to Steven trying to hand him a plate of roast partridge.

“Did you change careers?” Lester joked. 

“Honestly. How can you sleep with this racket?” Steven complained.

“Just like home,” Lester said, taking the plate. “What are you doing in this crowd?”

People who had traveled from abroad were squished into the restaurant waiting to order this very meal of partridge, while Lester simply wanted his usual.

“My girlfriend wanted to try it. She’s waiting outside,” Steven explained. 

“Did you get your order in?”

“How do you think I got this? They said to give it to my acquaintance.”

Lester handed back the plate. 

“Should have said friend. This one is for your girl.” 

“Sir, I... do you want to meet her?”

Not particularly…

“This is Marna.”

Marna looked up from where she sat on the steps of a house. A larger dark skinned girl with a colourful beaded dress that would rival a salesman’s wife. 

“Oh, one of Stevie’s friends.”

“And mentor,” Lester said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“And you. And is that partridge?”

“To share,” Steven said. 

Lester’s stomach growled.

“I should have known. Stevie it might be my turn to impress you. It’s a bit early, but how about we meet some of my friends for some food.” 

That said, they all had a bite of partridge before wandering into the woods outside of town. They were not the only ones. Tents were pitched, older couples were out walking, and fires were stirring. 

Marna’s family was gathered near the river; a lively bunch of dark-skinned relatives cooking small pots of food and adding finished dishes to a spread blanket that contained many trays of grain, chickpea salads, chicken kebabs, and wraps. The older woman tended the pots while exchanging private jokes while the young folk relaxed around the food. 

“Ohhh, look who Marna got. A pale boy,” one called. 

“He looks tough though,” another said.

“Hey, which one is yours?” still another asked.

“Don’t mind them,” Marna said.

“Hey does this one earn money?” her family joked. 

“Not your business Rasha,” Marna called. 

She led them to sit on the blanket by the food and gave them wooden bowls and spoons to help themselves. 

“Ah, the defenders,” an older man said as Lester took a kebab. “Good to have you.”

“Thank you sir,” Lester said. 

A wood cup was held out for him and Lester reflexivly reached, but paused when the words registered and replayed in his mind. -like your alcohol sweet.

A sticky sweaty smell. His father asleep half across the bed, half on the floor. Mess across the floor. He realized he was still awkwardly caught in the middle of their social pleasantries when a hand touched his shoulder and Marna’s reassuring voice sounded. “Mostly fruit. You don’t have to.”

He was able to take the cup. “Thank you,” he said genuinely. More to her than the drink giver who simply turned away to joining an ongoing conversation.

“We have water,” Marna suggested. 

“No. It’s not the alcohol. It’s just been some time." Since he had something sweet. 

The cup was tilted. Sweet, then bitter currents, and not really his thing. “Do you have anything less…sweet?”

Around him, laughter rose again. Someone passed another dish. A cousin nudged Steven into a joke he didn’t quite follow.

It wasn’t so bad.

Lester did his best to keep pace with the conversation, but eventually settled for bidding Marna and Steven a good night and wandered away between the trees, feeling lighter. 

He came to a dirt road beside one of the tiny statues of Baytu dotting the roadside. The god of travel was depicted in a cloak and holding a bowl. Lester rested a hand on the stone head for balance as a pink sunset spread across the sky. He thought of home. Of waking up to the rooster’s caw, of sun stained houses, and catching Keenin stare at his family home as the kid dreamed of when it would be him. His hand clamped over his mouth, suppressing a sob. A hot tear slid down. He was soon squat low to the ground trying the hold it all in. His gut twisted. He leaned forward, braced his hands in the grass the threw up. “Shit,” he mumbled. 

Lester rubbed his arm across his eyes and his vision cleared. It was suddenly much darker. Or maybe his drunken state had deceived him. A cool canopy of leaves covered him. No…wait… The road was gone. It was just leaves and bushes and forest floor. He glanced at that statue of Baytu still there beside him. It was moss and vine covered, almost overgrown. Impossibly strange. 

Maybe it was the lingering fuzziness of his head, but this place felt more familiar than frightening. He could hear the faint sound of people a ways off and followed the sound as the light faded to dark. 

Stepping from between the trees, a strong wind blew dirt into his eyes and Lestor raised a protective arm. It didn't make much difference and when he looked again the graveyard was still there, where the grass rolled into the cemetery. A jumble of lopsided stones, monuments, decaying gifts, and a large mausoleum thought to be for the founding family. Home. 

He tried to reconcile reality and dream. Surly his real self was unconscious at the roadside in Meladona, surely. Did that make a difference? He had wanted to come. Here it was. 

“What are you scared of?” Lester asked himself. 

He covered his eyes with a hand. 

“Look, it's just a dream,” he told himself. 

The air felt cool against his skin and dogs barked, distracting, trying to prove him wrong. Lester kept his eyes covered and put out a hand as though he could touch the masolium from where he stood. He took a shaky step forward.  

“Not real,” he said. 

He took another step and kept moving forward until his hand touched a rough surface.

“It’s not the real thing,” he told himself again.

Yet his fingers trailed down over familiar ridges until he felt a bumpy line carved by human hands. Real. He uncovered his eyes and his second hand also come to touch those lines, dim in the dark. His heart felt so weightless and fluttery as happy memories arose. 

He tugged a cord resting around his neck and pulled up the glowing stone attached it it. It illuminated the roughly carved names:

Danny

Cass

Keln

Michel

Louis

Rose

Lester

Noah

Ke

Fred

He rested his hand over a particular name, Ke, remembering that he held back Keenin’s arm before the name could be finished. Wait. I know you don't want to stay here. I'll help, so you dont have to.

Now Lester picked a loose stone forgotten on the top of the structure and etched the remaining letters.

Keenin.

“So you did come.” Lester paused at the sound of her voice. 

He turned with the glowing rock to catch sight of the young girl casually sitting atop a tombstone. Curious green eyes watching. Her clothes were clean. Not a stray. Then…

“Do your parents know you’re here?”

Her head tilted. “Parents?” Then she pointed a finger at herself. “You mean me.” 

Lester held out a hand. “Come with me. We should get you somewhere safe. I can walk you home or take you somewhere else.”

“Take me. Me? You think I…” a hand was slapped against her mouth, holding in a laugh. “Ha.” Her giggling took a minute to calm. “You always were…like that. You’re misunderstanding. You see… I came to visit like you.”

“In the dark?”

She rested her chin on her hand and her elbow against her knee, truly unconcerned, gazing back with amused interest. “Sure. I do it all the time.”

“You’re not…cold?”

“Please. Le-Like I would want some stranger's smelly jacket?”

“Sorry. I…” She must think I’m the creep. 

“You're alright. The company is a nice change.”

“You really come here often?”

“It’s my familys mausoleum.”

Lester looked at the structure. “Oh… I never knew. I just knew some kids a while back that…” He trailed off. It probably wasn’t good to admit you had vandalized a family resting place. 

“Who are you thinking about?” the girl asked.

“A…a friend.” 

“Them,” she pointed. It was hard to tell in the dark, but he thought it was towards the carved name. 

“Ya…uh sorry for carving that there. We…” This time he stopped because her expression changed in a way she didn’t expect. Sad. Not upset. Just sorrowful as she too looked at the list of names. “Did you know them?”

“A bit,” she admitted. “I should actually think you. I couldn’t find his name anywhere else. You know. Keenin.”

Lester wanted to ask. To know how she knew Keenin. To know if she was family. But what right did he have?

“Actually, they just built a statue in Maladona for him. If you want to visit…”

“I know,” she quickly cut him off. “But its different.”

“Very. It doesn’t feel like him,” Lester admitted. “He wouldn’t like it.” 

“No, he wouldn’t,” she agreed. 

She continued to look at the list of names. He turned and also continued to reflect on them. Let memories come and go.  He didn’t even know he remembered these things. And now he almost wished he didn’t. It was too much loss. So much he wished to be different. “I’m sorry,” he said to no one. 

“Can you tell me about him?” the girl suddenly asked. 

It almost felt like too much, but if anyone would understand. If anyone would just listen. Maybe. “I…I think he really put me to shame. He had such a strong dream and its like I’ve fallen behind. Everything I became was because of him.”

“Is that so bad?”

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I want. They tell me to think about myself. And all I think about is him. How can I ever fix things?”

“They should be lucky that you care about them.”

“They want me to settle. My friends are getting married. Finding less dangerous work. Passing something on. And they think my work takes too long, but once I get out to help a village its not like I always get to go back later. I want to help while I'm there.”

“You really are too nice. No, I mean, Keenin should be grateful you think about him. The way I see it. He left you.”

Lester gripped his jacket to contain the painful thudding of his heart. “Shit.” Not wrong. 

“Too much? Sorry.”

“No. I... How do you even…know that?”

“How? Simple. I might not know him well, but my dad did the same thing. Just wasn’t there. I had wanted to talk to him.” 

“Here?”

“Ya, my dad isn’t exactly around anymore. But I still wanted to tell him something.”

“I see. Did you say it? Maybe if you said it here….”

She remained quite a while longer. “I did, but I don’t think he heard me.” 

“I’m sorry.” He had not meant to dig up another person’s grief.

“Me too. I’m sorry too. I just wish he heard me.”

Lester sat down on a tombstone next to her, cradling the glowing stone in his hand. “I heard something strange once. I heard of a book in the great library that lets you talk to any one person. Maybe you could borrow it.”

“And you won’t?”

“No. I already said it all,” Lester admitted. 

Besides. Such things couldn’t be real. Even this. This was a dream – wasn’t it? But what if it wasn’t? What if this was Keenin’s sister right beside him?

“I’m Lester.” 

“I know.”

“And you?"

“Soraya, but you don’t need to remember.”