Let's Pretend We Never Happened

Chapter 22- Feeling of Home

Chapter 22-A Feeling of Home

The next morning, I was awoken by the faintly familiar odour of rotten garbage and an assortment of musty smells, finding myself momentarily confused as to my whereabouts.

It only dawned on me a minute later, when I stared up at the post-water-damage stain that looked oddly like Abraham Lincoln, on my ceiling,  that I was in the comfort of my own home.

I indolently, turned over on my side, curling up into the empty space Brennan had occupied last night. Startlingly, the space didn’t now feel, but rather, provided me the ease that I had someone who loved me to sleep beside the night prior.

I could hear his calming, somewhat deep, voice in the kitchen, paired with the sweet, chirpy tone of Anne’s.

Ultimately, after enjoying the familiarity of everything around me, I arose out of bed, placing my feet into plush bunny-shaped slippers that lay by the door and lazily padded my way over to the bathroom Bren and I shared.

Thankfully, Brennan had always made a habit of keeping a clean bathroom. He had been raised by two women (my mother and his) and had therefore never caught the horrible patterns of unflushed toilets and shaving cream all over the sink.

I looked at my sleep-content face in the mirror and hugged my blue bathrobe over my plain white tank top and red flannel pyjama bottoms.

November was sure as hell proving to be cold. Which was necessarily bad; I liked cold weather more than warm.

After ensuring a gleamy white smile and a fresh face, I followed the warm smell of freshly made coffee, where it resided in the kitchen.

“Good morning sunshine,” Brennan greeted me with a big, two-dimpled smile as I walked through the door.

“Oh honey, I have to admit that I missed seeing you walk into the kitchen every morning with that beautiful face of yours.” Anne smiled at me from where she sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee in her favorite blue mug. Her pretty green eyes sparkled and her grin enveloped me in a feeling of warmth.

I went over to sit beside her, giving her a side hug as I slid onto the chair. “I’ve missed it too Anne.”

“Brennan made you breakfast,” she said.

I raised my eyebrow. “Really?” I asked incredulously. “Edible breakfast?”

Brennan made a face at me and casually swatted me with a dish towel. “After you left, someone had to do the cooking around here. You know how mom won’t cook outside of the bakery. Apparently this kitchen isn’t ‘fit for her expertise’.”

I laughed, knowing how the usually humble Anne would turn her nose up at the mere thought of cooking in the small, confined space of the kitchen in our apartment.

Our dinner was usually made at the bakery kitchen and then brought up to the apartment, or we’d eat out and on rare occasions (apart from the Wednesday pizza night), I would find myself cooking a meal for Anne and Bren.

“How many times did he poison you, Anne?”

She chuckled good naturedly, “About a dozen or so...I had to keep the first aid box and 911 on speed dial right beside me when I ate just in case…”

“Hey! I make amazing food.” Bren pouted, looking between his mother and me, both of us sending each other a sly smile.

“Well kids, I’m off to work. I’ll see you later,” Anne said, getting up and gathering her keys and bag. “Come by the bakery if you get the time.”

“Have a good day,” I told her as she kissed my cheek to say goodbye.

“Thanks kiddo,” she said, leaving the kitchen.