The stupid screen door creaked as I slightly cracked it open, making me inwardly cringe at the noise. I took a deep breath before fully opening the door and walking in.
"I'm back..." The door slammed behind me, causing me to jump and closing my last chance at inconspicuous escape; now I had to go into the house.
"Oh good," Aunt Clara hummed, twisting to face me with her hands planted firmly on the kitchen counter top. Unlike her usual indifferent demeanor, it was clear she was barely containing her aggravation and anger. "Please talk some sense into your mother."
I still jolted in surprise, as if I still hadn't believed that she'd come back. The longer time'd gone by, the less realistic the prospect had felt. Moving further into the room was when I finally caught sight of her, standing and leaning against the back of the couch.
"Mom..."
I almost couldn't believe it.
She really did come back. Maybe whatever was going on had ended. Maybe everything could go back to normalish. Maybe–
Mom turned and glared at her sister. "So you did call for backup." When no one responded she threw her hands up. "Great." she said to the ceiling. "More people to attack me."
My stomach flip-flopped and I felt a frown work its way onto my face. That had hurt. I was so fucking unrealistically optimistic.
"Mama." Oh my god. A head popped up from behind the couch, and zeroed in on me.
"Kota!" Her eyes widened and she scrambled over the edge, running towards me, and wrapping her arms around my waist.
Aya.
It was standing in her presence that gave me a feeling of euphoric relief; a combination of optimism and relaxation of the shoulders. My eyes widened. This was a reaction to the messy eight-year-old's absence.
"Kota," she sniffled, rubbing her face into my shirt. For a moment I froze, unsure of how to react; Aya had never like acted this before. Then the moment thawed and I reciprocated. Hell, I realized I didn't even give a shit about her snot that was probably dribbling out on the fabric. I was that happy to see her. That left me warily befuddled. How had I not realized I missed her this much? What was wrong with me?
YOU ARE READING
Letters To The Moon
Teen FictionAs Dakota Akihara crashes, Rhea Walton falters. While one is drug away from a life in the 1%, the other finds it increasingly-unbearable to put up with the crushingly-expected and dependable monotony of slow business, bills to pay, and mou...