Rekindled- Jake Kiszka

Chapter 43

By the time the first weekend had ended, I had gotten used to the process of the gallery. Over the next two days of presenting my photos, fewer fans would come each day. It was fun to meet them all, but also sort of overwhelming in such a (usually) calm environment. It was reassuring to know that less people were likely to come to the second weekend, which had been holding true so far as today would be the last day of the entire display.

The guys took care of my flight for the next day and I was over the moon to say the very least. Facetiming with Jake just wasn't enough anymore, I needed to see him. They had last night, today, and tomorrow off before they had to be in another city, so they all decided to sightsee for the day. I knew they were headed on a hike at some point in the afternoon since Jake let me know he probably wouldn't have service for quite a while.

In a flash of boldness, I decided that I would let my mom know about the gallery today, seeing as how it was the last. If I gave her less time to show up, I'd be less disappointed when I didn't see her there. I hadn't spoken to her in months now, but something told me to just check. Even if all I did was slip the flyer under her door, it would be an effort.

I grab one of the flyers that I had leftover and write a little note on the back saying that it was the last day of the gallery and that it would be nice to see her before getting into my car and driving over.

The road back was as familiar as ever. It took me back to the nights I would come to Jake's after a big fight with her or the trips we took back and forth while moving my belongings from one house to the other. Everything around was a reminder of him, only intensified by our recent time apart. I pull into the worn-down driveway to see no other cars, and no lights on in the house. The grass was long and the weeds were thriving. It looked like no one had so much as looked at the house in years.

After taking a few seconds to build up my courage, I get out of the car, walking up to the door with the flyer in my hand before trying the key. To my surprise, the door opened with ease. Inside it looked as messy as I remembered, but my mother was nowhere to be found. I sigh and crumple the paper up in my hand, shoving it into my pocket and walking into the kitchen to see bottles and dishes scattered everywhere. I was sure she was on another bender.

It was this kind of behavior that I had grown so used to since my dad passed, but it felt like these things only came about when I needed her the most. Alex didn't contact me all week and the boys were off doing what they love the most, I just wanted someone to come to one of the nights. Even just for a split second.

I gave up quickly on waiting for her, as her little trips could last for months on end if she wanted them to. The day suddenly took on a bleak feeling, the grey sky and light rain only emphasizing it. I know that if Josh were around he would tell me to enjoy the rain, making some point about how mother nature moves with meaning or something. But he wasn't around, and everything felt heavy.

The feelings I had been ignoring for the past two weeks started setting in, so the second I arrived at home I decided to take a quick nap. I had plenty of time left before I needed to be ready and if I could sleep off the mood I was in, I would be perfectly fine by tonight. I head into my room, laying down on my bed for the first time since Jake left, getting myself comfortable and placing my phone on the table beside me before closing my eyes and falling asleep unexpectedly quickly.

My phone buzzing loudly against the hard wood of the table startles me out of my sleep. I wasn't sure how long I was out, but I knew how annoyed the sound was making me. Without looking, I slide the bar at the bottom of my screen, barely opening my eyes as I hold the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I manage, barely audible in my tired daze.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you asleep?" I recognize Jake's voice in an instant, but still don't bother to open my eyes.