Count The Stars

thirty-nine

When I got home that night, all I wanted to do was take a shower and go to sleep. I hadn't been that tired since summer holiday. It was like everything that kept me awake at night was starting to fade, leaving me with all the sleep I'd missed for years. I was so ready to wrap myself up in a blanket and sleep the weekend away.

But, when I walked into my house, I was met with my father standing by the door, his arms crossed tightly around his chest. I froze in place, finally wiping off the cheesy grin that had been slapped on my face for the past few hours. "Hello," he grumbled.

"Um... hi," I said, a thousand things racing through my head as I tried to figure out what I'd done wrong to make my father speak to me.

"So, Elijah, your mother was at the match tonight," he began, "she said you played the whole time."

I nodded slowly. "I did."

"You made three goals, then?"

"Yes."

"Well," he patted me lightly on the shoulder, "good for you."

I blinked. "...sorry?"

"I said you did good."

"Oh," I squeaked, trying to keep my jaw from dropping. That was quite possibly the closest my father has ever come to giving me a compliment.

I waited for him to go on and say something else. Maybe apologise for everything, or at least give me a few pointers on how to get better, but he stood uncomfortably, shifting his weight between both of his stubby legs. I coughed and let my eyes wander around the room, half praying he'd just leave, but also hoping he'd find another thing to say. But he didn't. Instead, he grabbed his coat from the rack beside the door. "Right. Tell your mother I'm off to Tesco," he mumbled and before I could say anything else, he was out the door.

"Wow," I muttered to myself with a snort.

"Wow is correct," my mum spoke up from the stairs. She pulled her thin lips into a smile and walked down to where I was standing.

"I didn't know you came. Why didn't you come see me after?" I asked.

She waved the idea away like it was the craziest thing I'd ever said. "I wouldn't do that. You were with your friends and I was with the Montgomerys. I didn't want to interrupt whatever you were talking about."

"You made up with them? The Montgomerys?" I questioned hopefully.

"A little while ago, yes. I explained how your dad had always grown up with different morals than us, and they seemed to understand."

I mirrored her smile. I was itching to run upstairs and text Izzy with the apology I'd been waiting to send for months, but my mum grabbed my shoulder before I could leave. "That girl you were with after the match, is that Grace?"

I nodded hesitantly. I felt a bit bad for not taking her to meet my parents, but I'd always "accidentally" planned our dates when they were out of the house. Whether that was to get time alone with her or to avoid my parents all together, I wasn't sure. "Yeah," I replied.

"Are you still seeing her?"

"No."

"Oh," she nodded. "And that taller one with the hat. That would be...?"

"Adam," I answered simply.

She nodded, a sly smirk dancing on her thin lips. "Right. He's the one you sneak off to at night."