Clothed in our grief

Chapter five

a/n: I completely forgot the term for somebody who came into the family by marrying the mom instead of being the biological father for someone, and i'm not an idiot i just forgot the word step father exists. I'll use that from now on instead of saying mothers husband or your 'non-biological father' because it just sounds weird. Thankfully I remembered the word. I also want to say I probably won't be updating on mothers day, because it's kind of a hard day for me. Ya feel? I don't think I'll update anything on mother's day, but I hope you all have a happy mothers day with your mom, or your grandmother if you can't connect with your mother. But none the less, I hope you all are pretty happy with your parents none the less. And hey, if you are a mom? Happy mothers day to you, you awesome human being. Mom's are great, mom's are awesome.

*Onto the actual story*

"What's the big surprise, and why can't I go into my room yet?" You asked your mother, smiling while you leaned against the door. The house you three lived in was nice. Your mother, you, and your now step father.

The house had two floors, the stairs would creak sometimes but that was expected. There wasn't any carpet on any of the home, so buying rugs was the first thing your mother did. She felt like homes should have life in them, so bright colors on pillows and pots of plants and vases willed with bright and colorful flowers were obviously on every table of the house. And pots outside, some hanging from the rain gutter. She didn't go crazy on it, it's just a couple in every room. Having herbs in the kitchen was a thing she liked too, as well as having a small strawberry plant. She used the mint leaves and strawberries together most often. Especially when she made the tea that everybody loved. Making it for guests, making it with dinner, making it with desert? It was just awesome, and so was your mom.

There was three bedrooms, and you're standing in front of your bedroom door as the two of you speak. There's your room, your mom and step father's room, and then the baby's room. The kid isn't here yet, but he'll probably be here in a couple months. Since it's the beginning of the school year, September, the baby's probably going to be born in November or December, hopefully not October because if the baby comes premature? Your mom just doesn't want to take any chances. Each room has a bathroom connected, just not the smallest room.

"There's two things, actually. Remember before your grandfather passed? The church down the street bought out the bookstore he and your grandmother and Darcy ran?" She asked, causing you to remember the place. God you loved that place so much as a kid, and your friends grandmother also helped run the place. So it was your grandparents, plus your friend Mary's Grandmother. Mary was the one with a religious family to the Wicca religion. So Darcy held a bunch of meetings there too. Sometimes you'd sit through them because it was all just so interesting, giving you a small bit of information about the things your biological father works with. But what he deals with is much more violent and scary, nothing could ever compare to that. So sitting through a bunch of devoted Wiccan's as they did their thing was as far as you have ever gotten to understanding your fathers line of work.

"Yeah, I remember I'd like to climb back behind the counter and sit in the small compartment with a book someone was ringing up, I'd read the last few pages of it before putting it back on the table and handing it to them." You replied, smiling t the memory while you pushed a lock of your (h/c) hair back behind your ear, grazing your finger against the grey baseball cap you wore on your head. Right after the last bell rang, you ran to the girls bathroom and changed out of the uniform and into some more casual clothes. Swapping out the white button up blouse for a grey T-shirt with a small alien design graphic in the right corner. A denim jacket with a grey fleece lining on the inside instead of the fitted black blazer. Some loose jeans with a couple tears in them due to the roughhousing you did a lot back in Portland instead of the black pleated skirt. Taking the ring off of the necklace and keeping it on your finger instead, feeling most comfortable with it on your middle finger. And lastly, a pair of high top vans instead of the short heeled oxfords. More comfortable to walk in.