Becky slumped on the couch, her headphones firmly back in place, drowning out the buzz of activity coming from the backyard. Her mother’s humming and the occasional clatter of folding chairs were muffled under the pounding bass of her music. She scrolled through her phone aimlessly, flipping between apps, hoping to lose herself in the familiar glow of the screen.
The invitations were done. The awkward interactions, the forced politeness, and the endless smiling faces were over. But the lingering embarrassment hadn’t left her.
Her gaze flicked toward the sliding door where her mother was still arranging decorations. A soft breeze carried the faint scent of flowers and fresh-cut grass into the room. Becky sighed and pulled the headphones down around her neck. She didn’t want to help, but she also couldn’t stand to watch her mother fuss over every little detail like her life depended on it.
“Need anything?” she asked, her voice flat.
Catherine turned, a surprised smile spreading across her face. “You’re asking? Are you feeling okay?”
“Don’t make it weird,” Becky muttered. “I’m just... bored.”
“Well, since you’re offering,” her mother teased, gesturing to a box of candles and tablecloths, “you can help set up the tables.”
Becky grumbled but grabbed the box. She carried it outside, the afternoon sun warming her skin as she set the supplies down by the long folding table.
“You know,” Catherine said, standing next to her and wiping her hands on a towel, “I really appreciate you doing the invitations today.”
“Yeah, well, don’t expect it to become a habit,” Becky replied, carefully avoiding her mother’s eyes.
“Still, it means a lot. I know this isn’t your thing.”
Becky didn’t respond, instead focusing on unrolling one of the tablecloths.
Her mind drifted back to the last house she visited, the one with the quiet girl who barely said a word. Something about the way she’d flinched at the sound of a man’s voice stuck with her. Becky didn’t consider herself nosy, but there was something unsettling about that interaction.
“Becky?”
Her mother’s voice snapped her back to the present.
“What?”
“I said you’ve been quiet. What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing.”
Catherine studied her for a moment before letting it drop. “Okay. Well, if you finish with the tablecloths, I could use some help with the lights.”
“Sure,” Becky said, though she wasn’t sure why she agreed.
As she worked, her mind wandered back to her earlier task. Each house had been a different kind of awkward—overly friendly parents, screaming kids, grumpy old neighbors—but that last house was something else entirely.
The girl, whoever she was, seemed out of place in that rundown house. Her soft voice and timid demeanor didn’t match the cold, harsh atmosphere of the place. And the way she jumped at the voice from inside... Becky shook her head. It wasn’t her problem.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Becky had helped hang the last of the fairy lights and arranged the chairs around the tables. She sank onto the couch again, this time with a glass of water, and stared out at the glowing backyard.
Her mother sat beside her, a content smile on her face. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Sure,” Becky said, shrugging.
“You’re not excited, are you?”
Becky snorted. “Excited for a bunch of strangers to invade our house? Not really.”
“They’re not strangers, Becky. They’re neighbors. It’s good to know the people around us. Build connections.”
“Connections,” Becky repeated, rolling her eyes. “Sounds exhausting.”
Catherine chuckled. “You’ll see. Maybe you’ll even make a friend.”
“Doubt it.”
Her mother didn’t press further, and for that, Becky was grateful. She sat in silence, watching the lights twinkle in the backyard, the unease from earlier still lingering in the back of her mind.
YOU ARE READING
A Gentle Collision
AçãoBecky is an 18-year-old introvert whose sharp words cut deeper than her silence. Living with her kind-hearted mother in a modest home supported by their family's restaurant, Becky has little interest in the world beyond her headphones and mobile scr...
