Redemption

29 - Unexpected

Chapter 29 - Unexpected

My household used to be full of affection. Laughter would bounce off the walls, heavy footsteps against the hardwood floors, ones in a hurry to greet whoever just got home, warm hugs, so warm they would reach your heart, a feeling that would make you feel like it was about to burst.

Every so often, I would wake in the middle of the night, my stomach growling, the kitchen calling my name. I would try my best to keep quiet, the pads of my small feet light against the ground, barely making any noise as I crept to the lower level. Almost every time, I would have to stop my descent down the stairs halfway through, the sight of my parents pressed together on the couch putting a halt in my journey, my dad's arm draped around my mother's shoulder, her head tucked into his chest, hair frizzy and tangled from a long day.

The TV would be on, the light from the screen illuminating the room, but their heads were never turned in that direction, never focused on whatever show or movie they had picked out to watch that night. I would sit down on the stairs, wooden ones covered in a patterned carpet, straining my neck as I tried to catch glimpses of their conversations, their hushed voices and low snickers felt intimate, but fascinated my child brain. When my dad would dip down to kiss her, his eyes closed, I would excuse myself, knowing that privacy is what they would have wanted in those moments.

When my dad looked at her, I could tell that the rest of the world became background noise, his main focus only on my mother. He would tuck strands of her messy hair behind her ear as she spoke, smiling slightly as he nodded along with her words.

One night I made it all the way to the kitchen, surrounded by pitch darkness, but the closer I came to entering the kitchen, which was separated by a wall from our living room, I could hear the soft sound of music, a slow melody. I peered into the kitchen, hiding most of myself behind the wall, seeing my parents pressed against each other, my mother's arms locked behind my dad's neck, his face lost in her shoulder, the shield of her hair stopped him from seeing me.

Mom never brought another man home after Dad passed. If she ever did start seeing people again, she never shared that information with me and Isaac.

Maybe her moving on would hurt less than just thinking about her nights on the couch, the ones where she was no longer curled up by my dad, actually having to pay attention to the TV, the distraction of my dad's puns and kisses no longer there to accompany her through the night.

Before I knew it, neither of them would be on that couch, the television shut off, the room bathing in the moonlight that would seep through the windows. It grew colder then, the warmth of their love no longer warming up the house, no longer qualifying it as a home.

I never saw romantic love after that. Sure, I'd see couples passing on the street, unable to keep their hands off each other, students leaning against the lockers, flirtatious jokes being passed between them, a husband and wife sitting on the bench along the river, their hands joined.

I told myself at a young age that some people have the gift of uncovering such a love like my parents discovered, but time will wear it out, tear it apart. Time is not Love's friend.

Time is Love's enemy.

It's like a flower, so beautiful and strong when it blooms, all its best characteristics on display, almost flauntingly, but it will wilt, wear down, until it cannot stand on its own. It will fall, crumble to the soil with no sound, then it will cease to exist, almost as if it never did in the first place.

My eyes are still shut, fluttering underneath my eyelids, straining to stay closed. My body is rigid, pressed tightly against Harry, his arm around my waist, holding me down. I must have turned around in my sleep.