Bitter

sixty - cal

"Here, let me help you with that," Dad said, rushing around me to hold the front door open. Nothing about our house had changed. It still smelled vaguely of laundry detergent, the TV still flickered in the corner of the living room, and Mom still rushed from room to room, cleaning and busying herself with chores to do. It was all so familiar, but at the same time, so new. It was the subtle changes I really noticed. The windows were cracked open, bringing the outside air and the sounds of birds chirping into the house. The TV's volume was turned down so low, I wouldn't have thought it was on if I hadn't seen the screen displaying some history show. Now I was invested in spotting the differences, trying to find what was different from before I'd been in the hospital.

   Mom's demeanor was a noticeable one. When she saw me standing in the living room, she rushed over and squeezed me into a hug. I guess I hadn't been expecting that because even though pain surged up my side, all I could focus on was the fact she wasn't yelling at me. "Welcome home, Cal," she said as she let me go. She looked at me, wearing a cheery smile on her face and I tried to remember the last time she looked like that. So happy. I honestly couldn't as sad as it was.

   That night, Mom and Dad had cooked dinner together and we had all sat at the dining room table. It was strange seeing them both talking, having a normal conversation that didn't somehow involve my sister. Mom had done something new with her hair (it was curlier) and Dad wasn't wearing pajamas, glued to his recliner anymore. They were both at the table, cracking jokes and smiles and all I could do was eat and silently observe them.

   It wasn't until Mom noticed how quiet I was that she looked at me, reaching across the table for my hand holding my fork. It was like she could read my mind (or maybe she just saw the blank look on my face) because she began with, "Are you okay, Cal?" Then she seemed to think this over because she continued on. "Oh, what am I thinking? After what Lydia told me, about what happened..." She looked almost hurt, like she could feel the aching I was currently feeling, radiating from where Haley had stabbed me. Her expression softened then. "You could've told us what was going on. You know, we've always been here for you," she spoke, then exchanged a glance with Dad. "Maybe we didn't make that clear exactly, but I hope you understand we're trying to be better about everything. You don't know how scared we were when we got the call that you'd been stabbed."

I nodded slowly, eyes cast down to my plate. It was hard hearing Mom's voice break like that. "I understand," I finally said. It was my first day home from the hospital and I could already tell Mom and Dad were actually here with me. Mom and I hadn't started fighting yet so we were getting somewhere at least. Then an image from a dream I'd had in the hospital flashed in my mind, one of my sister, Ella, glowing within a bright ring surrounding her. Ever since that dream, I couldn't help but feel like Ella had been with me the night of homecoming, when I'd passed out in the pouring rain from blood loss. It was a miracle I was here now, eating dinner with Mom and Dad again.

I had to admit, it'd been a shock at first, coming back to a home that was so different now, so calm if that made sense. I didn't feel like I had to creep around anymore and avoid Mom's stormy, disapproving glares from the kitchen. I didn't have the need to hide from the rain cloud that had once hung above Dad's head constantly.

Now, as I was lying awake at 1 AM, the shock had officially worn off and I suddenly felt lighter, like someone had just dug me out of a grave and all of the dirt had been tossed off me. I had had the same feeling when Lydia revealed everything about her dad to me at the hospital. It had all become so clear then. And telling her about Ella had felt so surreal in the moment, I couldn't believe I'd actually said all of that stuff out loud. It had felt like the right thing to do then and it felt right now.

Lydia knew me more now than I would've liked her to a couple months ago, but I didn't care about that. She'd slipped her way into my life and I could safely say that I had needed someone like her all of those years.