Tonight is the night we die

Chapter Fifty-one

Naturally, I drove home. What used to be my home. Where I used to be normal. It seemed like the right thing to do. Couldn't explain it any further. Parked in front of the ivy-wall house, I waited. Waited for courage to catch up with me. That bastard was always late to the party. I checked my phone. No news from Gloria, not like I should expect any. The message app was open but I lacked the words, the keyboard showing letters that I had no clue how to combine together to repair what I had just broken only an hour ago.

I sighed and put the phone away, taking the helmet off. Like a glitch in the matrix, I walked the steps I had walked all those years. Never thought I would be allowed to walk in this direction.

Electricity passed through my body as my index pressed the doorbell. A new doormat. I was less nervous than expected, probably because none of this felt real. Another daydream in which I used to find refuge.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi..." I started. "Hi, Mom," she tilted her head as if this word was from another language. "It's me. Jake,"

I didn't know what else to say. The scene was quite underwhelming. I played our reunion endless times during many sleepless nights. The tears, the screams of surprise and joy, the relief and pure delight on my mother's face. The never-ending hugs. Naive of me to expect of the time to remain stranded into the houglass, waiting for my comeback. Like I put all of their lives on pause when I left and now I allowed the movie to play again. All those nights in those hotels rooms or under a bridge amongst homeless people, lost, drunk and hopeless souls, when terror stroke me, I found comfort in those scenarios. In those imaginary hugs. Because they looked like a near future... Well a far away future most of the time, but almost like a goal, a flame that kept burning even under the heaviest of rain and the strongest winds.

And now I faced the flame and it... Lighted off. The movie kept playing after my departure and I was now the confused extra on set.

Mom stayed there, uncertainty on her wrinkled face. Age never looked better than on her face. Fine wine. Did she recognize me? Age had not been as kind to me. Gloria told me the opposite, but I never agreed with her. Age carved into my forehead and rugged my cheeks. Bags filled with secrets and not enough hours of sleep darkenned the countour of my eyes. Nerves chapped my lips.

"The joke isn't funny," Mom finally spoke.

"It's not a joke, mom,"

"I don't find it amusing," the door started to close but my palm forbad to lose her once again.

My brain raced into finding a way to prove my identity to the woman that gave birth to me. All I could think about was:

"Christmas!" I blurted out. "I hid inside Grandma's old big buffet to see Santa and I saw you and dad putting the presents under the tree. You heard me and I pretended to be a talking piece of furniture," I chuckled. "We called the buffet the talking cabinet after that,"

The memories warmed my heart but it didn't seem to melt the ice around my mother's even though something changed in her eyes. Her gaze softened for a brief second that I managed to catch. She knew I was Jake. Her Jake. Or someone else's Jake. But Jake, all the same.

Patiently, I waited. Waited for a motherly warmth to show up on the doorstep. She moved to the side, and I entered my home. It looked the same. I think. Actually... It all changed. I think. Underwhelming, again. Things were supposed to make sense again as soon as I walked inside this house, why does it feel like the total opposite? My eyes were all around the room to find something that would feel familiar. Grandpa's old clock. Hard to miss the nerve-racking tic tac guiding me to the kitchen.

I sat on one of the stools around the middle kitchen island. Mom grabbed a glass and filled it with apple juice. My favorite. She slid the cup in front of me, keeping a safe distance from me. Was it a test? See if I implode if I drink it or suddenly turned back into her little boy?