Storms {z.m.}

Chapter 4

Zayn

I almost didn't recognize her. The girl standing at the door was thin but curvy. Her dirty blonde hair was full and hung over her shoulders effortlessly, and I could see a green streak behind her left ear. She was wearing short denim shorts and a pink tank top. Her breasts were prominent due to the low scoop of the shirt's neck and I could tell that this wasn't the same Christine I said goodbye to four years ago.

“Chrissy?” I ask in disbelief. Even though I knew no other person in the world who had eyes as green as she did, I still couldn't believe the girl standing on the other side of the doorway was the same girl who walked home from school with me every day since we were in grade school.

She stood still in the doorway as if she'd seen a ghost. Liya gave her a kick in the shin and the girl my best friend had transformed into came back to life. She pushed a strand of green hair back behind her ear and I saw a glimpse ink on her wrist.

“How...how are you?” I asked as I made my way down the rest of the staircase. The familiar feeling of the rough wood under my fingertips reminded me of the summer days in which I'd run down these very stairs to get the door, knowing that Christine would be on the other side.

“I'm...What are you doing here? You haven't visited since...” she began, struggling for words. Her voice trailed off before finishing her sentence and she looked down at her hands. She was playing with her fingernails, a habit she must have picked up since I left. It took me a second to realize she asked my why I was here when I hadn't visited for so long. I knew exactly why, but I didn't have the strength to utter an explanation. I didn't even let my mind go there, because I'd surely run back upstairs and stay there another day if I did.

“I wanted to see the old town,” I lie. I left Bradford four years ago for a reason. That same reason is what kept me from coming back every time my mind even entertained the idea of coming here.

I'm standing next to my sister in the doorway now, less than two feet away from Christine. Her green eyes look into mine and I want to smile at my old friend but can't find it in me to do so. All I've done since Saturday is keep the corners of my mouth turned downward.

Christine stand on the doormat, awkwardly. It's clear she isn't trying to formulate a sentence in her head. She just looks at me in silence. I can't tell if I see hurt in her eyes or I'm just imagining it. I look away toe ease the tension, but a few seconds later when I look back at her, her I see that her eyes were locked on me the whole time.

“I better go, I'm late for work. It's good to see you, Zayn,” she says as she walks away. Instead of turning on her heels, she slowly backs away keeping her eyes fixed on me. I know it's strange but I don't know what to do about it. Maybe she doesn't like my tattoos. I wave at her as she hops the short fence over to her side of the yard.

“What was that about?” I asked Waliyha as I shut the front door. The glass window in the door shakes when the door shuts.

“Nothing, she's probably just surprised to see you is all,” she answers immediately as she walks into the kitchen. This is the first time I've seen my younger sister since I arrived in Bradford and she's changed a lot too. Her hair is longer and fuller than it used to be, and she's grown about three inches. But it doesn't compare to the change between 2010 Christine and the one I saw just moments ago.

I follow my sister into the kitchen and watch her fill up a cup of water for herself, then one for me. It was good to see that although her appearance had changed, Liya was still the self-less thoughtful girl she's always been.

“It didn't seem like nothing,” I saw after taking a sip of water. It burns as it goes down my throat and I realize I must have been sobbing a lot harder than I realized. The heavy metal music made me immune to the sounds of my own pain. I shake my head to clear the thoughts of misery from my conscious and focus on Liya's response.

“She's fine, Zayn. How are you?” she asks raising a concerned eyebrow at me. Several times in the last few days I heard her soft knock on my door, but I never replied or opened the door because I didn't want her to see me this way. I was her hero. I'd always been the strong one in the family. Or the one that appeared to be strong at least. I couldn't let her see me with my guard down.

“I'm alright,” I say looking away. “What is this I hear about Peter hurting you?” I ask remembering the sentence I heard from upstairs that made me come and see who my sister was screaming at. I knew my sister was dating a guy named Peter, that much I picked up from the Instagram and Twitter posts. I must have misunderstood through, there was no way Liya was letting herself be hurt by a guy. She was self-less, but she had self respect.

“Oh, it's nothing. She was just trying to make a scene. You know how she gets,” she responded, avoiding my eyes. The Christine I knew would never use tactics like that to get attention. But if her personality changed half as much as her appearance, she might do that now. I decide to drop the thought and go back to bed. I hug Waliyha tightly before going back upstairs.