the long way home [ h.s. ]

Twenty | 20

twenty | 20

☓

My room is quiet and dark.

I remove my jacket and shoes first, leaving them discarded against the wooden floor.

My legs ache from walking up the small hill, and I don't even bother to wipe the makeup from my face. I feel like I've been awake for days and days, without a moment of rest; my body stands in exhaustion.

And strangely, despite everything that's happened tonight, I'm in a state where my head is empty, and my soul is numb.

He had driven me home when it was over.

The ride was silent, but...

Not exactly hollow.

Not exactly void.

Throwing off my sweater and jeans, I pad over to my dresser, the one that used to belong to my grandmother. Little flowers are painted across the edges.

Pink, blue, purple.

I trace over them with my index finger. Unable to think straight, and also completely unable to question it. They stare back at me, with their dainty petals, silent.

After some rummaging, I throw on a tee shirt. It's a faded red one, with the name of a summer camp printed on the front, that comes down long. I volunteered a few years ago.

All I can remember is how hot it was, and that I spent most of my time chasing down all the kids; trying to keep everything together.

I wear the same shirt every night.

As soon as I've slipped it on, I ease down onto my bed and feel the cool sheets against my legs.

And for a while, I just lie awake.

I stare at the ceiling, at the little cracks and crevices, the planet stickers that my father put up when I was small-- they're all out of order, with Saturn on one end, and Venus on the other.

My teeny-tiny universe.

That's what Dad had called it.

And then, in a series of gentle knocks, I hear Thomas opening my door.

It takes a second for me to react. Upon the twisting of the knob, and the drawn-out creak, I sit upright. He stares up at me in his airplane pajamas, hair tousled from sleep-- his eyes are wide and curious, like always.

"Mary?"

I reach over and turn on my bedside lamp. It casts a soft pink glow throughout the small room, lighting way for him to step further.

When I look at him, something moves in me.

I'm not sure how to describe it. It's almost like a tugging; a gentle pull against my heartstrings.

It's the sight of my little brother, standing there, right in front of the bed, that causes me to throw off my covers and meet him in the middle.

In less than a second, my arms reach around and pull him close.

He doesn't question me at all. But then again, he wouldn't. He simply holds me back, his deep breathing like a lullaby.

"I love you," I say, my face buried in his shoulder, and his heartbeat sounds steadily against my ear.

His hands grab gently, one bunching up the collar of my shirt, and the other resting on my back. He's so small in my arms, like a precious doll.

A blue eyed angel.

A warm body.

And in this moment, sitting on my bedroom floor, I never want to let him go.

"I l-love you," he whispers.

On his arm, he still wears a bandaid from the scrape. It's so rough compared to the softness of his skin.

I think about how lucky I really am; I don't do that often enough, and quite frankly, no one else does it often enough, either. We go through life and don't think about how some things are here a moment, and gone the next.

But then it happens.

We lose things.

We lose people.

We even lose ourselves, sometimes.

And in the wake of these losses is an ache that, although able to fade, leaves a little piece of itself for us to uncover now and then.

Tonight, I see my family and my home for what they are.

Precious.

Beautiful.

Life-giving.

And I wouldn't trade it for anything. Nothing-- absolutely nothing else in the whole wide world could compare to my parents' smiles, or the feeling of Thomas in my arms.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I say.

He pulls away, his eyes resting on my own. The pale light from my lamp casts gentle shadows across his face.

Slowly, he takes my hand and places it against his cheek, like Mom and Dad always did when we were really little.

He gives a soft nod.

And I know that never before-- never, in my entire life-- have I been so thankful to tell him goodnight.

☓☓☓
a/n

Really short chapter, but I just think it felt right.

Finals are over for me, now, which means frequent updates should be on the way!! x

Thank you for reading, and don't forget to vote and comment.

Love you all.

Soph