One-Sided Secrets: Stories Unfolded in Silence

Wait... you still have the silver lighter? The one from Dad's desk? This is… this feels like one of those stories from that podcast, 'One-Sided Secrets'. The one where you only hear half the conversation. Except I'm not just listening. I think I'm the one who's been living in the silence. What do you mean you need to tell me something? Leo, it's late. Are you drunk? You only call like this when you're drunk or you've crashed your car.

So which is it? That's not... that's not funny. Don't joke about that. The fire was thirty years ago. Thirty. Why would you even bring that up tonight? What... about the back porch? ...No. No, the fire marshal's report said the grill was faulty. The ignition coil. I remember the words exactly. Mom keeps the damn report in the safe like it's a holy text. You were where? But... you were inside with me.

We were watching the game. You went out to get drinks from the cooler... and then you started screaming. That's what I remember. That's what HAPPENED. No... no, you're lying. Why are you lying to me right now? The lawnmower... I remember you cleaning the lawnmower earlier that day. The little red gas can. You... you told me you spilled some on the deck boards. You said it was an accident.

Oh god. Leo. You... you were fifteen. You were just a kid. What are you SAYING to me? ... You hated him. I know you hated him. He was hard on you. He was hard on BOTH of us. But to... to do THAT? You stood there? You just... stood there? And you watched it catch? I ran back in for him! Leo, I ran back into a burning house for him! I thought he was asleep on the couch! AND YOU LET ME. YOU STOOD ON THE LAWN AND YOU WATCHED YOUR LITTLE BROTHER RUN BACK INTO A FIRE YOU STARTED!

What do you mean it doesn't matter?! OF COURSE IT MATTERS! ... Wait. What... what did you just say? He... he wasn't on the couch. I know that. I screamed his name. The smoke was so thick... I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe. I barely made it out. For thirty years, I've had this... this guilt... that I couldn't get to him. You knew. You knew he was in his study. With the door closed.

You knew he'd gone in there after your fight. You knew he wouldn't hear the alarm right away. You didn't just hope for an accident, did you? You planned one. You didn't just set a fire, Leo. Every year. Every single year, on the anniversary, you bring flowers to his grave. You put your arm around Mom while she cries. You tell my kids stories about their grandfather. Was any of it real?

Or have you just been acting for thirty years? So what does that all add up to? ... Don't. Don't you dare ask me for that. Not now. Not EVER. There is no forgiveness for this. There's nothing left. You didn't just burn down a house. You burned down my childhood. You burned down every good memory I thought we had. They're all ashes now. No. Don't say my name. Don't you ever say my name again.

You're just a voice from a fire now. That's all you are.