One Small Step | ✔

Broken But Not Beyond Repair

I walk home slowly,
trying to decide whether or not,
what I did was the 
right choice.

There's only one way to find out;
to live
and see
the end.

In front of the house,
is a blue Ford.
Ambrose's car.
I suppose he was serious.

But what surprises me most is
that the garage door is open
and parked inside is
a white car that belonged to Aunt Margaret.

She's here too.
She knew that Dad and I had moved in,
but she didn't know the reason why.
Ambrose had probably told her.

I walk into the house,
smelling the sweet scent of
chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.
And dinner.

Aunt Margaret swoops in out of nowhere
and crushes me in a hug,
"Lulu, baby!
We were worried sick!"

She begins to fuss about me.
"Where were you?
It's almost eight o'clock
and you're new in this town!"

"Hi, Aunt Margaret."
I say, 
forcing a pleasant smile on my face.
"How was Europe?"

She pulls back and looks at me carefully,
her blue eyes, so like Carina's,
assessing me.
Her brows drawing together.

It's been a while since I last saw Aunt Margaret.
Back then, she had pretty ash blonde curls that I envied.
But now,
There are a few streaks of grey.

She's Cassidy's older sister.
Dad has no brothers or sisters,
and Grandma and Grandpa are gone as well.
So he turned to Aunt Margaret.

She examines me closely
and I swear I see tears rim her eyes.
But all she says is, 
"You look like your mother."

People always say 
You've grown to look so much like _______
But I wonder,
why can't I just look like myself?

Carina got it a lot too.
As does Ambrose, but
why can't we just look like ourselves and
not someone else.

If only we could look in the mirror
and not ask ourselves who we look like,
or think hauntingly of the past
how much easier would life be?

Ambrose walks out from the kitchen,
"Aunt Margaret,
can you call Dad down for dinner?"
He says to her.

Aunt Margaret nods,
"Alright. Is there anything you still need
Ambrose?"
she asks.

Ambrose shakes his head.
"Just Dad to get out of his room,
out of the past,
and back into the family."

He mutters it quietly,
but Aunt Margaret exhales and says,
"He's trying his best, honey,
but to get out of the past isn't that easy."

Ambrose doesn't respond,
but it's written on his face.
If you can leave the past,
Why can't Dad?

Turning back to me,
Ambrose says,
"Dinner's ready.
It's take-out."

"Thanks,"
I reply.
I walk to the kitchen with Ambrose close behind.
I can almost feel his eyes on me.

"So where were you today?"
He asks, as he hands me a box.
"Around."
I answer shortly.

"Tal,"
He sighs in exasperation.
"Seriously?"
I just shrug.

"I was with a friend. Happy?"
He looks at me disbelievingly.
For some odd reason, 
I don't feel hurt.

I suppose it's unusual
for me to even
mention a friend.
The only one I ever had was Adam.

"Whose your friend?"
He inquires.
"Honestly, Ambrose
Stop acting like the FBI!"

I say snappishly
before I can stop myself.
A corner of his mouth quirks up.
"Does my baby sister have a boyfriend?"