Exactly one year to the day my brother Peter ditched me, I got a package in the mail.
It came to the school, not our house.
The secretary handed me the package with a warning that I was never to use the school as personnel address. I was going to tell her that I hadn't when I saw my name "Andrews" on it , scrawled with Peter's handwriting.
"Lil Bro, Andy, just turn the recorder to play and I'll explain what you are supposed to do with this. Do not share this with Mum and Dad. This is just between you and me.
Your Big Bro, Peter. "
I made sure the rest room was empty and switched on the recorder.
"Hey Andy , I know you're mad at me for splitting without so much as a goodbye, or a note , but opportunity knocked. I'm not sure what .om and Dad told you but while you were at school, we had one of our discussions about my future. As usual , it was one-sided. I would have called and explained, but you know my take on the whole phone thing. Then I was going to write you a letter , but the longer I waited, the longer the letter got into my head.
Now , memorise this address. P.O Box . 1611,New York, New York Zip:10011. This is where you can send the memory stick when you figure out how to use the recorder.
Talk to you soon , Lil Bro." Wo
Andy stood at the edge of the old train station, the wind tugging at his coat like a silent plea to stay. Peter was a few steps behind, arms folded tightly, her eyes fixed on the horizon rather than him. Neither spoke. Words had already failed them.
The train hissed as it arrived, its doors sliding open with mechanical finality. Andy turned to face her, searching for something—permission, forgiveness, maybe even a reason to stay.
"I have to go," he said quietly.
Peter jaw tightened. "You already did."
He stepped closer, but she didn't move. The distance between them felt wider than the tracks. "I'll come back," he offered.
She finally looked at him. "Don't promise what you can't keep."
The whistle blew. Time was up.
Andy boarded, the door closing behind him with a soft thud. Through the window, he watched her—still, silent, strong. As the train pulled away, the world blurred, but her image stayed sharp in his mind.
He didn't know where the journey would lead. Only that he'd left something behind that might never be whole again.
Would you like to explore Peter perspective next, or jump ahead to Andy's arrival in a new place?
w , seriously?#
Peter stood by the gate, arms crossed, trying to look indifferent. But Andy knew better. His brother's silence was louder than any goodbye.
"You don't have to act like you don't care," Andy said, adjusting the strap on his bag.
Peter shrugged. "I'm not acting."
Their dad stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Andy's shoulder. "You've got everything you need?"
Andy nodded, though the lump in his throat made it hard to speak.
Mom was quieter. She held out a small pouch—worn leather, tied with a faded ribbon. "It was your grandfather's," she said. "He carried it when he left for his first journey. Maybe it'll bring you luck."
Andy took it gently, fingers brushing hers. "Thanks, Mom."
The train's whistle pierced the air.
Peter finally looked up. "Just… don't be stupid out there."
Andy smiled. "I'll try."
He turned toward the platform, heart heavy but determined. As he boarded, he glanced back one last time—Peter standing stiffly, Dad with his arm around Mom, her eyes glistening but proud.
The doors closed.
And just like that, Andy was gone.
Would you like to explore Peter's reaction after Andy leaves, or jump ahead to Andy's arrival in a new place?