Heartfelt Transitions [First Draft]

Good Things Only

I found James and the others waiting right outside. The three were engaged in a heated debate about... something related to faes, was it? The fantasy genre?

When James had heard me coming, he broke off his argument and tilted his head in a questioning manner. I shrugged him off.

He proceeded to pelt me with questions for the next ten minutes, telling how badly he wanted to tread in my footsteps of eavesdropping but decided to martyr his curiosity instead. Truly heroic.

Vaguely, I informed him of the conversation. He listened and so did the other two.

We all parted ways and by the time I had reached home, my brain was a curry fry due to all the overthinking. It was good that the hot months had passed, otherwise who knows what anger it would have induced.

When I entered, I found my father in the living room, opening and closing cabinets as if hunting for something.

He glanced up to acknowledge me. "Back home?"

"No, my ghost is," I shot back and bit my tongue. This used to be one of my cheeky go-to responses two years back.

I used to hate obvious rhetorics. For instance, 'Oh are you up?', to that I always ended up responding something like, No, clearly still asleep. Talking while asleep.

Dad chuckled. "Clearly."

I placed my bag at the side. "What are you looking for anyway?"

"Hmm," Dad muttered, still shuffling. "Have you seen the box where we kept all the documents?"

I frowned.

"The one with birth certificate, marriage certificate, NID.."

"Oh," I said. "Must be in your room's cupboard. Lower drawer. What do you need it for?"

He gave a dismissive wave and left for the room.

I shrugged to myself and sauntered to the kitchen. Water, water. Where are you?

I was pouring myself a glass when I noticed him step out of the room with some files in his hand. He placed them on the table and came to the kitchen.

"How was school?"

"School? You know." I shrugged again. "Just the same."

"Hm," he said, deep in thought.

"Do you want to talk about something?" I asked cautiously.

His eyes went to files and then slowly came back to me.

"...Nothing of the sort. Maybe when your mother is back."

"Huh, okay."

"Hm."

Silence.

I hesitated.

"You know..."

"Hm?"

"I had a talk with Camelia today."

Silence.

Heavy pregnant silence.

He stared at me. And then blinked. Blinked once again.

I could see him try to figure out why the hell I was talking about that day. If there was someone out of the three of us who avoided everything of the past strongly, it was me. I deflected, dodged and ran.

Especially always in front of them.

I guess it was natural of him to wonder. Even I was wondering why the heck I was talking about it.