The Clichés

Chapter Seven- Dylan

Dylan couldn't stop smiling. It was a great day, the first one in a long time. Mom is coming back home. God, he hasn’t been this happy in ages! The sky was blue again, the birds were chirping again! He, Aunt Paula, and his cousins Ted and Grant are putting up balloons and lights around the sitting room. Sauna is throttling around, barking at trees and empty cartons. Earlier, he had mown the grass outside, cut out a zigzagging path, and trimmed the zinnias. They looked flat, like tables wreathed with leaves and bleeding flowers. Ted had helped him erect the golden trees around the doorways. The trees were tall and pyramidal, and their branches were thin and naked, stretching out like elongated claws. Instead of leaves, they had orbs or golden lights at their tips.

Missy is running around one of the trees, giggling and throwing her hands in the air. Yesterday, she grew another tooth, a yellowish thing shaped like a stubbed little triangle sprouting from a mush of red. She'd been running temperature in the evening, and Aunt Paula said it was because of the tooth. She couldn't bite a cookie and went to bed earlier than usual. But later in the night, when she overheard Aunt Paula relating the news of Mom's return to Dylan, she leaped out of bed and started dancing around.

She's exhausted herself, squatting behind one of the trees to catch her breath. That's when he comes to pick her up off her feet. High up in the air, she squeals in delight, feigning fear. She doesn't stop squealing even after Dylan has brought her down. He rolled around on the ground with her, tickling her stomach. 

"Dyllie, stop! I can't breathe!" She giggled. He smirked and shook his head, his eyes twinkling as his brown bangs fell in his face. 

"You better try harder to get away then, Missy!" he shouted. He hasn’t felt this much like himself for a very long time. His face hurts from smiling, and the sound of his laughter surprises Missy so much that she jumps when she first hears it. When his arms got tired, he let Missy go. She lay on her back, laughing for another couple of minutes. Then, she rolled on her stomach and looked at Dylan through her messed-up curls. 

"I like it when you're like this." When you're not pretending. Her words made him pause and look her in the eye. A burning, stinging sensation filled his throat, and salty tears welled up in his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, not daring to cry in front of his little sister. 

"Me too, Missy. Me too." 

He has to get up and leave for a few minutes before calling over his friends. 

*

Mom arrives at noon, wearing a cracked smile on her weary face. She hugs Dylan and fails at lifting Missy. The room is silent after that. Only the sound of Missy's favorite orange flip flops could be heard. Aunt Paula clears her throat and leads them into the welcome room, where backlit balloons bob against glass boards, giving off faint clicking sounds. The family sings a welcome song for her. Missy's voice, always the loudest and most shrill, rings out of the house.

Vanessa is Dylan's first friend to arrive, walking right in like it was her own home. 

"Hey, you're Dylan's Mom, right? Dylan has told me so much about you," she said, holding out her hand. The woman took it with a warm smile. 

"Oh God, bless you for sticking around and hearing him talk about little old me," she laughed. Vanessa shook her head, her clay bead earrings clicking together as she did.

"Well, of course I stuck around, you sound like a fascinating woman! I'm pleased to finally meet you."

"My my, what a flatterer. No wonder you and my son get along." They both laughed. Dylan's eyes flicked back and forth between Vanessa and his Mom, and with every growing smile and laugh, he felt the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet and kiss Vanessa for being so utterly wonderful to him and his family.