Exed out

Two Peas

My room looked the same; nothing had been touched. I ran my fingers along the white wood of my dresser. There were pictures everywhere, some made me smile, others made me sad. Some pictures were turned away. On the bulletin board, over half of the pictures were pinned so that the back of them were facing outwards. Three of the five picture frames were face down, and for a moment I was confused. And then I remembered. I wanted to ask about the person hidden from view but never from my thoughts, but I was too scared and not at all ready. I knew I'd have to suck it up though; my hometown was a small town in Indiana. If he was still here, which I had last heard he was about two years ago, I couldn't avoid running into him.

"I touched nothing," my dad said with raised hands. "The only things that are different are things of yours I stored in here and the old blankets in your window seat that I needed awhile ago."

"Thanks, Dad."

"I'll give you a few minutes to settle."

I turned to him and touched his arm. "If you don't want to go down there, Dad, you can help me unpack. I understand."

He smiled and patted my small hand on his meaty arm. "I've gotta be an adult now, B. I spent too long being angry and childish about it."

"Understandably," I remarked.

"That's arguable." He smiled and turned to leave me alone in this godforsaken room. When I was eighteen and left for college, I promised myself I'd never come back, but I knew how impracticable that was. I knew that I'd come back for one reason or another, I just didn't think it'd be so soon. But I promised–this one I intended to keep–that if I absolutely had to come back, I wouldn't stay in this house, in this room. I planned on staying at the Lakeview motel, but they were closed this summer due to renovations. Bitches.

So here I was, standing in the middle of my thoughts from my teenage years. God, I was an open book back then, yet no one saw it coming that year when I totally lost my shit. My best friend use to say that I was open book, but I might as well have been a AP calculus book. It was readable, but no one knew what the meaning of the book really.

"Those pictures are turned over for a reason, Beth," I said to my self in annoyance as I hoisted my suitcase onto my bed. My best friend isn't my best friend anymore. By choice, and for a reason.

•

After putting away my clothes and toiletries, I attempted to snoop around my room. I found a stack of books in the corner that were my favorite novels as a teen. I smiled at how into reading I use to be. Then I found my year book and I went back to hating everything about my room. So I decided then that I wouldn't spend anytime in my room unless I was sleeping. This place was no longer my get away.

I exited that personal hell hole, closing the painted door softly behind me, and turned to see the door across from me closing as well.

"Jonas?" I asked.

"Beth? When did you get here?" He quickly crossed the hall and gave me a surprisingly tight hug that lasted for a few more seconds than I expected.

Jonas, my youngest brother, look the same as always and yet horrifyingly different. His blond hair was cut shorter than the last time I saw him which was during Christmas two years ago, which ended devastatingly. He looked overall more healthy than he did two years ago. His skin looked healthy aside from the dark circles around his eyes, and he didn't look so skinny. And he felt warm and familiar and like Jonas. I pulled back and stared at him, completely dumbfounded, which he took notice of.

"I, um, took to trying last year. That one Christmas was a wake up call."

"We don't need to talk about it," I assured him. He smiled, grateful for my understanding, and turned to head downstairs. "But I am happy to see you doing well, Jonas."