Authors: Nora Flite
For
a moment, I sat there, staring up at the reaching shingles, the
glowing windows of the huge house. It felt strange to be there, I
wasn't able to put my finger on why.
I'm
home, aren't I? Shouldn't I be excited?
The
truth was, I felt nervous about facing those walls again. I'd grown
up here, had so many memories, yet after so much time...
It
still made me feel so small.
Stop.
You're not a kid anymore. You have control now. Remember that.
****
Inside,
the aroma of onions and garlic hit me, my stomach rumbling instantly.
Before I could even step into the kitchen, a trio of small, furry
dogs slammed into me.
“Whoa! Hey,” I laughed, shoving their slobbering muzzles
away, barely keeping on my feet. “Easy girls! Down! Come on.”
Ginger,
Misty and Suzie; corgis my father had brought home when I was only
fifteen. Gifts for my brother and I, though at the time, I remembered
being let down that he hadn't gotten us guitars instead.
“
Are
they friendly?” Leah asked, standing behind me, her voice
agitated.
Turning,
my fingers rubbed across the dogs' heads, making them sit
reluctantly. “Yeah, too friendly sometimes, I think.”
“
Can
I pet them?”
Blinking,
I realized she wasn't nervous, but excited. “Of course, they'd
love that.”
Hesitantly,
Leah moved forward, scratching her nails across Ginger's neck. The
other dogs noticed immediately, and scrambled forward to get some
attention of their own. Leah grinned, and it sent a spark to my
chest. Soon, all three dogs were on their backs at her feet, rolling
and wriggling while she rubbed their bellies.
Look
at her go, she must really love dogs!
Her
eyes found mine, twinkling with delight, cheeks flushed in a way I
suspect was not due to the winter weather outside.
“I see the girls have made a new friend,” a voice said
behind me, deep and smooth all at once. Turning, I saw my father
standing there, looking exactly as he always had. Not quite the same.
He looks more tired, maybe?
He
yanked me in for a hug a little too roughly. “Good to see you,
son,” he chuckled.
“
Hey
dad,” I said, giving him a squeeze. “It's been a while.”
“
Not
so long, you've got your own things going on. California is a long
trip, we understand.” The tone he used was overtly pleasant,
green eyes flicking from me to Leah and back again.
Taking
the hint, I backed off, waving the dogs away as they tried to jump on
my girlfriend when she stopped petting them. “Dad, this is Leah
Rook, the girl I told you about.”
The
girl I told you about in one brief phone call the day after I had
already bought
plane
tickets, so there was no way to back out. Did you handle that
surprise as well as you acted, I wonder?
Leah
stepped closer, offering a hand and an unsure smile. “It's nice
to meet you, Mr. Day.”
“Dr. Day,” he corrected. “But you can call me
Dylan.” He didn't take her hand, instead pulling her in for a
quick embrace. I heard her startled laugh; watched her hands fiddling
with the ends of her scarf when he pulled away, holding her
shoulders. “We hug around here. Call me old fashioned.”
He was oozing charisma, to the point I almost rolled my eyes. Bedside
manner in full effect. Perhaps I was being too harsh, but I knew my
father. This proper, polite air he was putting on was purely for
show. It was aimed at me, to prove just how 'charitable' he was being
to the new lady in my life.
“
I
thought you said to call you Dylan,” she mumbled, looking to
the side bashfully. “But I guess I can call you Old Fashioned.”
My
dad blinked, then gave a deep, belly of a laugh. “Clever! I
like that. Hon, you can call me whatever you want.”
Forcing
my smile on, I stepped forward, gently pulling Leah away from him.
“Careful now, you don't need to win her over that badly, Dad.”
I
could hear Leah's uncomfortable giggle, but my eyes were fixed on my
father, weighing the moment quietly. He had to understand, I wasn't
stupid. I knew for a fact he was still deciding if he would approve
of Leah or not.
He
would want to know far more about her before he would even chance
giving a real stamp of approval.
I
won't let him find anything out, though. That's not what she needs,
people prying into her life.
I
want her to like my family, and I'll do what I can to make sure they
like her, too.
If
I had dwelt on that longer, maybe I would have understood the odd
rush of guilt that tugged inside my belly. Instead, playing the
silent game of stand-off with my father, I never got there.
“
Honey,”
I heard my mother say, her thin form wandering into the room. “Did
you turn the chicken? It should be done, I think the kids would
appreciate something hot to eat.”
The
moment broke. My dad stood straight, thumbs hooking into his belt as
he looked away from me. “'Course I did, Jenna. Let's get them
fed, then.” Together they strolled out of the alcove, leaving
Leah and myself alone. The dogs followed them, anticipating the
possibility of tasty scraps.
“
You
hungry?” I asked her, glad for the first moment we'd had alone
since the flight. She was close to me, almost standing against my
chest. Easily, her hands found their way around my waist, until she
had me wrapped up tightly. My chin propped on her head, the clean
scent of her silky hair filling my senses.
“
Sort
of. I need to ask you something, though.”
“
Oh,
uh, go ahead,” I said quietly, peering down into her nervous
face.
Leah
bit the side of her lip, clearly fighting to figure out a way to ask
what was on her mind. “Why didn't you ever tell me that you...
you know, that you had a brother?”
Flinching,
I let her go and put a small gap between us. “It wasn't
intentional, not telling you. I honestly sort of... it just didn't
come up naturally.”
I
couldn't be sure I'd convinced her, especially with how she was
studying my face so intently. “It's okay, I'm not angry about
it. I just—I hate the idea of your mom thinking we aren't close
enough for me to know those things.” Her laugh was weak, false.
“It was sort of embarrassing in the car when it came up, I
guess.”
Firmly,
I hugged her to me and planted a brief kiss to her forehead. When I
pulled back, her eyes glimmered with something else. It was
intoxicating, how easily she could warm up to me and our physical
touch.
“
I'm
honestly sorry, Leah. I promise I won't let anything like that happen
again. Do you want to know all about the rest of my family? It's a
lot of people,” I warned her, exaggerating my intensity. “It
could take hours, but I'll gladly describe them all to you in
detail.”
Her
laugh, then, was a real one. Pushing me lightly, she stepped back and
rolled her eyes. “No no, it's fine, really.”
“
You're
sure?” I teased, lifting an eyebrow. “You don't want to
know about my second cousin Frank and his amazing ability to eat—”
“
No!”
She stopped me, shaking her head rapidly. “Shh, no, it's fine.”
We
stood together, enjoying a moment where the tension wasn't so heavy.
Her tempting lips made a sudden frown. “So... there really was
no reason he didn't come up? None?”
“
No,”
I said, wondering why I felt a flicker of shame, of irritation.
What
does she mean? Of course there's no reason... why would I avoid
mentioning Nicholas?
We
walked towards the kitchen, but my mind was elsewhere. Something was
bothering me. Was it possible I had subconsciously avoided talking
about my younger brother?
It
was as if I had absently chosen to wipe him from my life, and hadn't
ever wondered why.
****
We
sat around the table in the kitchen, great heaps of chicken and
creamed corn on our plates. My parents made idle chatter between
chewing, I joined in where needed.
“
Leah,
sweety,” my mother mused, looking her over where she sat beside
me, “are you cold?”
“
Oh,
uh, no,” she blurted, glancing at me curiously. “I'm
fine.”
“
Then,
how about you take off that jacket and scarf?”
A
cold sweat prickled down my back, knuckles going white around the
fork I held. Watching Leah, how she sat so straight, unmoving, I had
no doubt what was going through her mind.
She's
wondering what they'll say about the bruises on her neck. They had to
have seen the scar on her lip, light as it is. I should have just
told them what happened, but...
Her
fingers were shaking when they gripped the zipper of her jacket, the
sound rippling through the air, louder than it should have been. The
scarf was tugged, unraveling until it fell into her lap; forgotten,
useless.
Ever
the quintessential image of proper hosts, my parents said nothing at
the exposure of Leah's patterned, marred skin. The marks were
healing, yet the circles of yellow and green still drew the eye. The
undeniable shape made by human hands.
The
visible reminder of that day, it made my stomach clench; coldness
traveled down my arms. I set my fork down to avoid dropping it.
“
Pass
the potatoes?” My mother asked, looking in my direction.
Lifting the heavy bowl, I handed it off to her, spotting the
blossoming confusion on my girlfriend's face.
She
isn't used to this, a family that avoids conflict.
Leah
shuffled in her seat, poking at her food, her appetite gone as the
conversation resumed around her. I followed it, forcing a laugh here
or there.
My
thoughts and focus were completely on Leah.
I'm
sorry, I'm really sorry,
I
tried to tell her with my eyes. Once, she looked at me, but the tilt
to her lips was neutral.
I
should have just told them to let you keep your scarf on! Or... or
done anything, except sat here and watched.
She
only looked away, unable to read my mind, poking at the food on her
plate as it grew colder. Eventually my mother stood, gathering the
porcelain for washing. “Deacon, we set up your old bedroom
upstairs for you and Nicholas to sleep in when he gets here. Leah
will be across the hall, in his old room. Why don't you take your
luggage upstairs and show her?”
Grateful
for the chance to get Leah away from that stifling air, I kicked my
chair back so hard it screeched. “Yeah, sure thing.”
She
followed me quickly. We scooped up our bags from the front alcove by
the door. My feet carried me into the living room, shoes crushing on
the plush rug. In the light of the huge Christmas tree, the
television was glossy.