01. homecoming

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     I hadn't been home in almost five years and even then the last few times had only been quick visits for holidays or while I was passing through

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I hadn't been home in almost five years and even then the last few times had only been quick visits for holidays or while I was passing through. And yet here I was standing with a suitcase in the front hall of my childhood home unsure of what to do next. I loved my parents and we got along fine but I'd always had a fierce need for independence and after high school had needed to get away from my small town reputation. I'd gone away to University; coming home only for a few days in the summers, I'd then flunked out of University, gotten a job at a tiny cafe in the city, found an apartment and had been living paycheque to paycheque. Too proud to ask my parents for help to fly home for holidays I had always said I had to work or that I had plans with my on again off again boyfriend Jackson. But then the cafe had closed and although I had looked for another job I quickly ran out of money and so here I was 25 years old, no degree, no job, no serious relationship, no money, moving back in with my parents.

"Mom?" I called into the seemingly empty house. My parents knew I was coming but I had never confirmed the date or the time.

"Gin?" I heard her call from somewhere upstairs, "Ginny!" she called as she came into view, "What are you doing here? I would have picked you up from the airport!"

"It's fine Mom" I sighed, "I got a cab it just seemed easier"

"Easier than you own mother picking you up?"

"Mom" I gave her a pointed look

"I'm sorry" she said coming towards me for a hug, "It's good to see you"

"You too Mom." I started lugging my suitcase up the stairs to my old bedroom that hadn't changed since I was in high school and my mom followed me.

"How was the flight?" my mom asked as I started unpacking my things.

"It was good" I said, "On time and they didn't lose my bag so can't complain." I probably didn't call my mom as often as I should so our first few days together were always awkward as we tried to adjust to how to interact with each other as two adults.

"How's Jackson?" She asked trying again to start a conversation.

"Oh, um, Jackson's not in the picture anymore. For good this time. He decided he wants to get married and have kids sooner rather than later and that I wasn't going to do that, not with him at least" I shrugged,

"Oh, honey I'm sorry" My mom said full of concern,

"It's ok Mom we both knew we weren't in it for the long haul" I said but in truth it had stung when Jackson had told me we were done because he wanted a family but just not with me. I had always kind of figured eventually we'd just get lazy and end up together, maybe slip up and accidentally get pregnant. Sure, we hadn't been madly in love but we'd been content.

I could see my mom looking around trying to think of anything to fill the silence with, "Do you have anything for lunch?" I asked, throwing her a bone and she perked right up,

"Yes! You must be starving I'll go get you something" and she shuffled out of the room. I sighed and sat down on my bed. I looked around my childhood room and I felt suffocated by it. The last time I had lived in the room for any long period of time was high school and I couldn't wait to get away from this room, this town, the boy across the street. When I left I had done it without looking back, I'd had a plan and it felt like I had failed to be living here again.

When I was done feeling sorry for myself I went downstairs and sat at the kitchen counter and ate the sandwich my mom had made for me and gazed without seeing at the house across the street.

"Have you talked to him since?" My mom asked following my gaze,

"Not in years" I said coming back into focus, "Wish I'd been here for the funeral though; no matter our situation his mom was always so nice to me"

"I don't think he's dealing with it very well"

"What do you mean?" I turned to look at my mom, "He's back?"

"Moved his stuff in the day after it happened, has barely left the house since" she said sadly and turned and left the kitchen.

So he was back. Last I'd heard he was a great success, something to do with the internet, he had started a company and it had taken off. He was back because his mom had suddenly died, I was back because I was a failure. The last time I had seen him we had just finished high school and I'd gone across the street to say goodbye before he left for his family vacation. I'd told him I'd miss him and that I loved him and I'd kissed him for the last time. The last thing I'd said to him was "I'll see you when you get back." when he did get back I was gone. He'd called and called but I couldn't tell him why I was gone; couldn't tell anyone. I'd thought I was doing what was best for him given the situation and he was doing so well for himself now that I couldn't have any regrets; things could have turned out very different.

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