Also, I want to eat an entire carton of butter pecan ice cream while watching sappy romance movies. I think I deserve it.
Dad pulls the car into the driveway of my childhood home and a sigh of relief escapes my lips. Finally, something feels normal. The house isn’t a mansion by any means, but it’s perfect to me. I’ve called Mom to inform her of my plans. She was understanding of my decision, but I knew instantly that it hurt her feelings. So, Dad suggested that we make a compromise.
After she leaves work, she’s going to pick up a pizza and drive over to have dinner with us. This will be the first time we’ve had dinner together as a family in more than nine years.
“Macy, can I help you with anything?” Dad asks. I give him the broadest smile I can muster and motion to the back seat.
“If you could grab my bags, that would be great,” I tell him, “I think I’m going to run upstairs and take a long shower before Mom comes over.”
“Be careful, Sweetheart,” He says as he opens my door for me, “I’ll knock on the door when Theresa gets here.”
I run up to the front door and walk into the house. It still smells the same as it always has. Finally, familiar things surround me and for the first time in months, I feel at peace. My feet carry me up the stairs to my old room. Something catches my eye and I pause. Dad never took the pictures of me and my mother off the walls. They’re the same family pictures that have always been here.
I run my hand over a photo of Mom and Dad on their wedding day. They both look so happy together. Not like I’ve seen them in years and years. Mom’s dressed in a light, ivory colored dress and her hair is piled atop her head in elegant curls. Dad has a dapper looking suit on, his rust-colored hair cut close to his head.
I shake my head and make my way to the bathroom. I strip out of my clothes quickly and lean into the shower to turn on the hot water. The steam is already fogging up the mirrors in the room and I let out a sigh as some stress leaves my body. I step in, letting the scalding hot water flow over my body. My thoughts wander over what’s recently happened to me. The accident. The hospitalization. A sudden throb hits me in the chest as I realize, I’ll never see my Henry again.
Tears roll down my face, washed away with the healing waters coming from the showerhead. I can’t mourn forever and I know I need to move on. How do you mover on when you’re not ready?
A knock at the bathroom door breaks me from my thoughts and nearly makes me jumps out of my skin.
“Macy, your Mom’s here!” Dad’s voice calls.
“Okay!” I call, “I’ll be right out!”
I lean forward to turn the water off and grab a towel to dry off with. I nearly slip and fall onto my face when my slick feet hit the tile floor. I forgot how slippery the floors are in here, I’ll definitely have to put a towel down before showering next time. I really don’t want to break my neck from a simple fall after surviving such an atrocity of an accident.
I open the door, sticking my head out the door to make sure the coast is clear before high tailing it to my bedroom across the hall. The door slams behind me and I scamper to my bed, to all the bags we brought from the hospital. I rifle through the bag, searching for something to wear for the rest of the night. I make my decision quickly and grab a pair of fluffy, flannel pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt.
Dad knocks on the door the moment I finish dressing. My remaining hand attempts to pull my hair out of my face, but I’m failing miserably. I give up and answer the door.
“Are you ready?” he asks. I notice that he’s already changed clothes as well. Now he’s wearing a comfortable looking pair of sweatpants and a tank top.
“Sure,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ears before following him to the living room.
Mom sits on the couch, looking incredibly overdressed. She’s outfitted in a knee-length pencil skirt and a purple, fitted blouse. The three-inch stiletto heels she’s wearing make my feet hurt by merely looking at them. Her eyes travel between Dad and me.
“Would you perhaps have another pair of pajama’s I could borrow?” she asks, breaking the awkward silence surrounding us.
“I do, but I don’t know if anything will fit you,” I answer, truthfully. Mom’s nearly six inches taller than me and let’s just say, she’s much more endowed than I am.
“What about you, Darin?” she asks, her attention turning to Dad who simply stares at her slack-jawed.
“Oh,” he mumbles after a moment, “I do. Let me go grab some for you.”
He shuffles away, leaving Mom and I alone. I walk over to her and bury my face into her chest. God, I’ve missed her so much!
“You really shocked him, you know,” I tell her, a slight chuckle escaping me.
“That was the point!” she cackles, her body vibrating as she laughs.
“You’re so mean, Mom,” I scold her before laughter takes me over as well. We’re still laughing in the middle of the living room when Dad walks in. His hands hold a pair of sweatpants and large t-shirt.
“What are the two of you laughing at?” he asks cryptically.
“Nothing!” we both exclaim at the same time, causing another fit of giggles to erupt from our mouths.
“Sure….” he mumbles.
Dad tosses the clothes to Mom who catches them just before they hit the floor. With a huff, he drops onto the couch and pulls a blanket over his legs. I recognize the blanket immediately. It would be doubtful that I would ever be able to forget it.
I knit that thing when I was going into middle school and it’s hideous. I really didn’t know what I was doing when I made it and it’s a weird abstract shape and a sickly shade of green. I can’t believe that I thought I knew what I was doing. It surprises me that he still has it and actually uses the thing.
“I’m going to go change into this,” Mom says, “The pizza is on the counter in the kitchen. Help yourselves.”
Mom leaves the room and I walk into the large, rustic kitchen. I can still remember all the happy times we spent here. Every Saturday morning, Dad would cook pancakes and bacon for us. We would spend the morning together discussing our week and planning what crazy outing we wanted to do the following day.
I also recall the bad times. Like when Dad stopped making breakfast. It was a Saturday when Mom caught him getting high in the bathroom. I remember sitting at the bar, waiting for my parents to come down only to hear them screaming at each other.
I shake myself from my thoughts as I grab a few paper plates and balance them on the box of pizza before I carefully pick it up. I walk slowly, trying to make sure I don’t drop the pizza onto the carpet.
“Do you need help with that?” Dad asks. I simply shake my head as I place the box on the coffee table and sigh with relief when I know I’ve succeeded.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” I ask as I open the box. A flavorful aroma of steam floats into my nostrils and my mouth begins to water. Mom got my favorite, as she always does. Pepperoni with triple cheese.
“Sure. I’ll pick one out while we wait for Mom,” I say and Dad hands me the remote. I quickly filter through the channels before finding a movie to watch.
“Really?” Dad sighs.
“Yep,” I reply cheerfully. I know it sounds stupid, but I really want to cry and from what I’ve heard of this movie, it will do exactly that.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay with this?” he asks as he leans forward to place us all a slice of pizza on individual plates.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, trying to convince him that I can make this decision on my own.
“Alright then, I guess I’d better go grab the tissues!” he jokes.
“There’s no need,” I say slyly, “I’ve got you to cry on.”
“That you do, Sweetheart,” he sighs. A squeal escapes my lips as he grasps me by the shoulders and pulls me into his chest. I fight him a moment before giving up and I bury my face into his shirt.
“So, what are we doing?” Mom asks from the doorway. I glance up and give he
r a small smile. This reminds me too much of the old days when she would parade around the house in one of his old sleeping shirts. Dad notices it too, because I can feel his breath pause as he stares at her.
“We are watching a sad, sappy movie and Dad’s going to let me cry on his shoulder,” I announce. “Isn’t that, right?”
His arms squeeze around me and he kisses the top of my head. “That’s right.” he agrees and turns to face his ex-wife, “I’ve got another shoulder if you need it.”
Mom blanches at his words before shaking her head. She’s pulled her short hair into a low ponytail, the shorter hairs springing free to swing around her face.
“I think I’ll be fine,” she jokes, “Thank you for the offer though.”
“You’ll change your mind soon enough,” he warns her, his eyes warily glancing to the television screen.
Once the movie ends, Mom has gone back on her word. It wasn’t even halfway through by the time we were both buried into his chest bawling our eyes out. Why did the movie have to end like that? He was supposed to change his mind and see the world with her! Dammit, I’m so not ready for this….
“Are you okay, Sweetheart?” Mom asks with a sniffle. Her eyes are red and puffy, making it obvious that she just cried her eyes out.
“I’m fine,” I lie as I crawl out of Dad’s lap. Mom doesn’t move though and I smile inwardly at the sight before me. Dad’s arms are wrapped around her shoulders and her head rests against his throat. I can spy a few faint tears drying on his face and I’m tempted to mention it. I shouldn’t do it though. It’s been ages since I’ve had both of my parents in the same room, getting along.
“I think I’m going to go to bed,” I announce. Dad helps push me into a sitting position and I clamber off the couch. I gather the empty pizza box and dirty plates to carry them to the kitchen on the way to my bedroom.
“Have a good night, Macy,” Mom calls to me. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she’s still in Dad’s arms.
“Goodnight,” I mutter, my eyes growing heavier with every passing second.
I toss the trash into the garbage can and shuffle to my bedroom. I can barely swipe all my bags before I fall on the mattress, my eyelids heavy as bricks. My thoughts drift to Henry and my heart seizes in my chest. I won’t ever be able to get over this. There’s no way. I’ll live the rest of my life with a shattered heart.
Chapter Five
The weeks following our movie night have been a repeat of the same thing. Mom has come over nearly every night to watch a movie with us and I believe she brought an overnight-bag a few nights ago. Dad won’t let me do anything by myself either. He’s either constantly hovering over me or he’s bringing me something I don’t need.
Physical therapists have been coming to the house to enact some sadistic torture on me that they like to call “therapy”. I don’t know what’s therapeutic about making me do things that my body doesn’t want to do, but I think they’re crazy.
All in all, we’ve been happy. I’ve begun to pick up on hints of romance between my parents. It’s weird watching them as they steal heated glances at each other. I even think Dad almost kissed her yesterday when he was helping her wash dishes. The only thing that stopped him was the sound of me choking on my water as I watched him lean into her. It’s not that I don’t want them together, I just find it weird seeing them together after so many years of animosity.
I’m getting better every day as well. I only cry half the time now and the other I spend sleeping. It helps, being in my childhood home. There are very few memories of Henry and I together here, making it easier to push all the haunting memories to the back of my mind. Henry never cared for Dad after I told him of my childhood, but he supported me and wanted me to have a good relationship with him.
Denny has even come over for a few of our movie nights. The other night he made me come to my senses though. The only reason I function most days is because of all the pain medication I’ve been taking. He warned me of abusing the pills and I immediately flushed half of them down the toilet. I refuse to go down the same road which consumed Dad for so many years. I surprise myself that I can function without them because of all the pain. Where my arm was severed burns constantly, like it’s in an open flame. The pills made me forget I even had the arm in the first place.
It’s good having Denny around. He takes my mind off everything going on and I can do nothing but thank him from the depths of my soul. Without him, I’m sure I would still be in the bottomless pit called depression. It honestly makes me feel a lot better knowing that I’ll have him around when I need him.
I know that I’ll have to go back to my house eventually. Back to the home which Henry and I shared for so long. I don’t want to face it and open the wounds I’ve been trying to stitch together. It’s not fair for me to stay with Dad anymore though. He’s missed enough work because of me and I’m not a teenager anymore. I can’t run to my Mommy and Daddy every time something goes wrong.
I’m twenty-five years old and it’s time to start over. Henry isn’t here anymore for me to lean on, so I should learn to live on my own. It’s time for me to admit the fact that he’s not coming home. Of course, Denny will be staying with me for a while. I just can’t seem to shake him. He’s the only constant in my life other than my parents.
I know it’s time to convince Dad that it’s time for me to go home.
“Dad!” I call from my bedroom. I’ve dressed in a light, purple halter top dress and I’m trying to pull my hair out of my face. I’m failing miserably, “I need help!”
I can hear his footsteps echo along the hardwood floors and his head pops into the doorway of my room a moment later.
“What’s up?” he asks. I laugh hysterically when I notice his face half-covered in a thick layer of shaving cream.
“I can’t put my hair up!” I groan, waving my hand around my head, a bright pink elastic band in my grip.
“Really?” he scoffs. “You screamed for help because of a hair problem?”
“But I can’t do it by myself.” I remind him.
“Fine!” he sighs and walks to me quickly. It only takes him a few moments to pull all my short hair into a tiny ponytail and I give him a quick peck on the cheek as a thank you.
My feet carry me to the kitchen as my mind whirs, trying to figure a way to tell him of my plans. A perfect plan comes to mind and I rifle through the cabinets. When I finally find everything I need to make breakfast I prepare all of the ingredients. Pancakes and bacon will be the perfect meal to propose my idea to him over. Maybe he will become reminiscent and barely listen to what I say.
I crack the eggs one-handed and have to fish a few pieces of eggshell from the mix, but I have very few problems other than that. After only a few minutes, I have two perfectly cooked plates of pancakes and bacon. The front of my dress is covered with batter and grease, but I think I’ve done a pretty good job.
“Dad!” I call out, “Breakfast’s ready!”
I sit down at my spot at the bar and wait for him. A few moments later, he walks through the door. He’s freshly shaven and dressed for the day. I pull back his barstool and he slides into the seat beside me, a broad smile consuming all his face.
“Pancakes and bacon, huh?” he asks with a chuckle, “It’s been ages since we’ve had this weekend breakfast.”
“I know,” I announce while I grab the syrup, pouring a generous amount of the maple awesomeness over my food, “That’s why I cooked it.”
We begin to dig into our food and a groan escapes his lips. I’m glad he likes it. At least I know how to do something right.
“Holy crap, Sweetheart. This is delicious!” he compliments me. He’s done with his food before me and I motion to the microwave where another plate is made. Another broad smile consumes his face as he walks to his second helping. Now that I’ve buttered him up, I think it’s time for me to break the news to him.
“Dad, I need to talk to you about something,” I say, finally breaking the ice
.
He pours syrup over his pancakes. “Okay, what do you want to talk about?”
“Well, the thing is…I’m ready to go home.” I tell him.
“Oh? Well, I’ll call Theresa and let her know. If anything, I can come over to see the two of you a few nights a week.”
“I don’t think you understand what I’m saying….” I tell him. My stomach turns as I look into his eyes, “I’m ready to go home, as in my house.”
“Macy, I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” he tells me, his face scrunched in confusion, “It’s only been a few weeks. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
“I’m sure, Dad,” I urge him. “I’ve been thinking about it for a few days and I know it’s what I want to do. Plus, Denny will be there with me. I won’t be alone.”
Dad looks down to his plate, the fork in his hand moving his food around. I know he’s thinking about everything that could go wrong, but I need him to know I’ll be okay.
“Okay….” he grumbles.
“Oh,” I sigh. “I’ll come back. I promise!”
Dad slides out of his seat and grabs our plates without speaking a word. The plates clatter in the sink before he turns around, his hands pressed against the countertop behind him.
“What happens if you need me?” he asks, his voice broken, “If you’re here…I can help you. You’ll be across town and if you are sad or hurting…I won’t be able to get to you right away. That scares me!”
I hop out of my seat and run around the island. Dad wraps his arms around me as I slam into his chest and I breathe in the smell of his cologne.
“Daddy, I’m going to be okay. I won’t lie and say that I’ll never be sad or in pain, but I need to do this. I can’t depend on you and Mom for everything. Plus, you need to get back to work.”
The Dying Fate (The Umbra Chronicles Book 1) Page 5
