Two Worlds Distanced

Chapter 121

RACHEL

Later in the day, all my nervous system tightened as I thought about whether Ezra liked his gift, which was an organized binder and a picture of the two of us on Halloween. I feel like an idiot for giving something like that during the holidays when he couldn't easily do that stuff for himself any other day. I wasn't sure if we would get presents for each other or even see each other during the holidays, yet times just have changed when the reality is constantly smacking you in the face.

When Ezra was too busy getting the perfect gift for me, I had that weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that we wouldn't see each other during the holidays, so I don't think I would have to get a gift as perfect as the sweater and book a flight so I can see my mother. But it's making missing the father I used to have much more complicated than I thought it would. I wanted to punch myself when I saw Ezra's face when I gave him a stupid binder and a picture frame with a picture of us on Halloween that you can simply get at any time. I knew I had to get it due to Ezra being the messiest person I know with leaving random papers and filled journals around and unexpectedly having a password on his phone. He never had a password because he said people would forget and disable the phone.

...

Meanwhile, I'm in the kitchen with my mother, making the dinner my mother suggested, which is my favorite meal from her, baked mac and cheese.

"Are you okay?" I ask my mother as she starts pouring the melted cheese on the macaroni noodles in the casserole dish. She smiles like it's a faking smile you put on to pretend everything's okay, "Yeah, I'm fine. Why would I not be fine?" she assumes, "I'm with my beautiful daughter," she puts the glass measuring cup on the counter and wraps her arms around me. I return a hug back, as still having a gut feeling something's up.

"I'm sorry. It's just you've been quiet all of a sudden," I swallow my pride in my next question, "Is everything okay with Dad?". Immediately she turns towards me, "Everything is okay, alright?" she snaps and returns to making dinner. I sign a little and step back.

As much as I want to ask more about Dad, I don't. I can't because I know this conversation might turn out worse than it already is. Yet I need to know if he's okay since the last time I saw him with police arresting him and having Ezra pull me off him. It's unbearable that was possibly the last hug I had with my father; for the rest of the time cooking dinner, it's pure silence. I wish I had never mentioned Dad because I can see the hidden pain underneath Angela's blue eyes, almost bloodshot or ready to cry.

Especially when her eyes shockingly see the case on my arm, "Rachel Irene? What the hell happened?" she asks, and darts her eyes towards the bedroom where Ezra hasn't come out in hours not since opening presents, "Did he do this to you?".

"What? No. He would never do something like that?" I tell her without mentioning how he took his anger out on me the other day by pushing me. She can read my face like a book, "He's not a psychopath like him."

"I'm just looking out for you because you know what the last person who put hands on you did to you?" she referred to Wyatt and never let me forget about it, "I love you for that, but no. I was clumsy and fell off a step stool. It's only a sprain, and get this, " I lift my arm, "Off tomorrow."

My mother grabs my arm and scans every inch of my arms covered in the blue case wrap, "Okay," is the only word coming out of her arm. I wanted her to freak out or something, not this unexpected calmness.