Behind the Game Face

a tense holiday

As I stood on the doorstep of my home, I wondered to myself why I didn't bring my own car. Princeton said it was because we only live about a 45 minute drive from one another and I was on the way anyways. He also gave me his phone number in case I needed it.

But really I think it was so I couldn't get out of seeing my parents.

The door swung open with a creak as I stepped through. I told my mom to stop leaving the front door unlocked since middle school. That would make me a hypocrite though.

The house was eerily quiet as I surveyed the scene. It was just like how I remembered it except fall decorations were here and there.

I lugged my duffle bag in with me as I made my way to my room. There wasn't a car out front so maybe I'm free to do as I please for the next hour or so. It wasn't like I exactly told my mom I'd be here anyways.

Entering my room was like entering a time capsule. It was exactly as I'd remembered it when I left after senior year of high school. I dropped my bag at the foot of my bed and ran a hand on my dresser as I observed the things in my room.

Old trophies, medals and pictures littered the walls and every flat surface available. It was crazy to think that this was the highlight of my life at some point. I stopped by an old picture of my club team and smiled at the young faces. Most of us were D1 players now. We were set on some of the biggest stages in the country now.

Who would've thought.

After I quickly showered and brushed my teeth because it was the night before Thanksgiving, I heard the front door open and shut. Taking a deep breath, I adjusted the hoodie I wore and made my way to the kitchen.

Nothing like ripping the bandaid off in one go, am I right?

The both of them were moving in sync as I leaned against the wall, just taking in the sight in front of me. They looked older. Way older.

Both of them had grey hair coming in and my dad who was once the tallest giant I knew just looked a little taller than me. Maybe the slouch in his posture had something to do with that.

My mom, who never wore her hair up, had it in a messy bun. And from the looks of it, they just went grocery shopping.

"What'd you get?" I voiced. Startled, my parents looked at me in pure shock as my mom ran up to me. Before I knew it, I was in her embrace and she was smoothing my hair out as my dad softly hit the counter and turned around to face the window with a hand on his hip.

I didn't miss the sharp intake of breath as he turned from me.

"Oh Lilah." My mom murmured in my hair. "Thank God you're here."

"Hi." I replied with my arms at my side. She let go of me and wiped her tears away as she ushered me to the kitchen table.

"When did you get here? Are you hungry? Dinner's been ordered. I don't cook that much but tomorrow will be different and I'll make your favorites too."

"Hi dad."

He turned back towards me. Except this time, with a fake smile. I tried not to notice the bags under his eyes, or the way he had more wrinkles, or the significant weight loss. I tried to look past his sad eyes. After all these years, it was the same deeply hurt eyes from that night moving forward and I couldn't bare to look at him.

"Hello Lilah." He responded from the kitchen. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks dad." I mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. The doorbell rang, piercing the silence.