As 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...
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M E L L I S S A
Melissa slowly eased herself onto the island stool. Her mother took the crutches and leant them against the kitchen's wraparound counter, busying herself with setting up something. Melissa went between watching her silently and surveying the distantly-familiar house. Wether she looked at Barbara or at the family photo on the mantle, nostalgia hit her full blast, accompanied by hints of grief, guilt, and faint but lingering anger. She was still getting accustomed to the fact that after years of separation and identity building, she was not only back, but feeling more connected to the girl that drove off at three in the morning, than she had in years. Feet picked up speed down the eighteen steps from the second floor, building into a crescendo that dissipated at the hard wood panels at the bottom. She thought it was her father for a moment, but once the figure neared the door she caught the mop of dark brown hair atop his head.
"Where you going?" Melissa called to her son who grabbed her nephew's keys off a hook and tilted his phone so the screen lit up. "Oh I uh, have a shift." That got her attention. She sat up a bit straighter, repeating the word.
"A shift."
"Yeah, anyways, gotta go" He quickly left after that, something which set off a tweak in her chest as the door closed behind him. Her mother humfed, pouring coffee from the pot to her cup.
"He's working?" Barbara put the pot back, grabbing the carton of milk on the counter and splashing a bit in.
"Has been for a while." Melissa shifted uncomfortably, remembering her words from two nights prior.
"Where?" Her mother shrugged, smelling the coffee and seeming to wonder if it was too hot to drink.
"That Diner, you know, the one the Walton's own?" Melissa stood and pushed her way to the counter, busying herself with making her own cup, and glad she'd remembered where the cups were. She picked up the pot and poured it halfway, evening it out with a healthy amount of milk and surveying her work. It wasn't a cappuccino, but it would have to do.
"He looks like you." She took a sip of her coffee, relishing in the caffeine before sliding her gaze to her mother and acknowledging her comment.
"You think?" Her mother hummed in agreement.
"The resemblance isn't exact, of course, but it's there," Barbara then nodded, more to herself than to her daughter. She glanced at Melissa, comparing her daughter to the mental image of her grandson. "It's there in a lot of ways." At that Melissa lowered her cup, eyeing at her mother in curiosity of her insinuation. Barbara caught it.
"Smart, but oh, so observant and stubborn. Like a mule. An overthinking mule. Like having a male you in the house." Melissa shook her head as Barbara laughed, taking another sip of her coffee. Barbara touched her forearm, laughter crinkling her eyes.
"He even does that little thing you always do, what," She furrowed her brows, "with your brows, and your hand, you know—" and then pinched the bridge of her nose. "Like that, whenever Liam or something irritates him." Melissa chuckled, playing coy to see how much her mother would say.
"Though," Barbara then started, her smile shrinking a little. "You could be a little nicer to him." Melissa saw the paper bag of Domino's sugar on the counter and busied herself with closing the ziplock around it and putting it back into the cabinet. Her mother still kept it in the same place it seemed. She knew how this all looked and it was that sheer information, that kept her from getting defensive.
"Different type of parenting, Mom."
"I know, but the kid's been through a lot. Try to have a little empathy, would you? I know you want to be this tough, success-driving Mom, but I think he needs something different right now. Both of them do." Melissa's lip twitched as she considered the words, bringing the cup to her lips once again. It hurt her, hearing this from her own mother. And her sister. Knowing and then being told point blank that she wasn't being a good mother. They had no idea. But it wasn't like she could talk about that either. So she couldn't let it show, how those words hit her. If she did, they'd ask why. Why everything was happening like this. She could tell they were waiting for any opportunity they could get. And even if they did know, there was the question of if they would disagree with the way she was going about this. Unlikely would they truly understand, unlikely could she even trust them. Hell, she knew she wouldn't've, had she not been put into this mess.
Barb sighed, knowing that that was all she could do for now. Despite the subtle anger that coiled in her chest.
