The Irish House

pregnancy cravings

1:00am.

I don't know if I'm more annoyed that I napped this long, or because my stomach is as empty as my soul.

Poetic.

The blinds are open, and the room is filled with blackness. I peel myself from the bed and stare at the lifeless ocean. The moonlight shines on the waves that ripple in the wind.

I hope Adora isn't mad I didn't come for dinner, but damn it, I don't think I could stand to eat in the presence of those people. I'm not going to put on a fake smile and say my life is great! They don't know why I came back here, and I don't know why they're here. I swear if Adora told them I tried to--

Rumble. Rumble.

I'm still wearing my black tracksuit which smells of the airplane flight. Should I shower before I eat?

My feet answer by heading down stairs with light feet, but it's no use for the creaky old stairs. Adora's bedroom door is closed, so is the two other doors. Curiosity of who rooms behind the doors irks me.

As long as I don't annoy Adora, she doesn't like it when people are in the kitchen past 10pm.

'You children are always making a mess! I don't want see your iochtair's here'- she always used to tell me and my siblings when we were younger.

This house holds so many memories of summer and winter break. The smells, the photos, the joy. To be a kid again. To be happy again.

Nobody told me adulting sucked this bad.

I walk into the kitchen that still has traces of spice in the air. I open the fridge to see a small rectangular glass container with a sticky note with flimsy writing.

DON'T TOUCH. For Nor girl- Adora.

I open the container to see freshly made Jollof rice with beef. It goes into the silver microwave- I try to be discreet, but microwaves love to be the center of attention.

The kitchen has a long brown table with wooden cream chairs and lavender cushions. I sit on the one nearest to the backyard door.

The only light comes from the stove, which provides make-believe heat to the area.

I bite into the rice, and go to a heavenly place. Adora must have stopped mum from putting too much salt. I enjoy the silence and continue to eat slowly.

Since one of my very last competitions happened two years ago, I began having some troubles with eating. I like to eat whenever, and whatever, but of course I had to be cautious of my habits as a dancer. It got so bad, I would fast for days, or only eat one meal, even though I'm training for dance almost everyday. It left me feeling lightheaded, and I lost a bit of weight. But it fluctuated. Although my teacher always told us, beauty hurts.

She was the ugliest thing too.

The sound of wood creaking averts my attention to the stairs. I stop chewing to focus on the heaviness on the steps.

The hallway light comes on, and appearing in a purple gown with matching bonnet, is Star.

Last time I saw her, she had already gave birth to my nephew, Dune. Now she sports a round baby bump.

"Noreen. What the hell!" She shout-whispers.

I stare at her, not wanting to argue at this time.

"Come and give your sister a freaking hug!"

She carefully skips toward my chair and engulfs me in a hug.

I smile at her, genuinely. I have nothing against Star, she's the best sister. I feel bad for casting her out.