A Year Around the Sun

t h i r t y-f i v e - haven't you had enough?

so many things i can't undo, baby
i wanna go back in your arms,
unsay the things i said to y o u . . .

🌊🌊🌊

Brody's P.O.V.

When I left the beach a couple hours later, it was just the beginning of sunset. My stomach was gurgling with hunger, the only real thing I could concentrate on. Dinner was too close and I was starving. Surfing may be an easy way to let loose and unleash bottled up feelings, but it's also a hell of a workout.

Owen would be happy to hear that I practiced on my own today, but I'd have to keep it to myself that I was just fucking around. There were only a few other people in the water, which wasn't a big deal. Half the time I just let myself dive off my board into the ocean carelessly. I let the waves keep me afloat as I stared up at the sky, my ears submerged and listening to the sounds of the sea. 

The lack of a towel turned out not to be a problem, for the breeze dried me on the trek back to my house. Approaching my street, I had to hold my breath before I turned the corner, anticipating whether or not the man who ruined mine and my mom's life was still at my house.

But when I didn't see the Mercedes parked out front, I finally exhaled. He's gone.

Not seeing that car made it that much easier to go home. Another weight came off my shoulders, just like when I first went into the water earlier. Barefoot and all, I trudged up my driveway to the garage. My phone had some notifications from different apps, texts from my friends, and a call or two from my mom. I'm assuming once she got the hint that I wasn't answering and I was surfing, she knew I didn't bring my phone with me.

I grabbed my clothes I left strewn on the floor earlier, as well as my phone, and left once my board was put back. Upon walking in my house through the back door, my eyes went straight to my mom at the kitchen table. A glass of red wine sitting in front of her half drank, her dark curls in disarray as her head rested in her hands.

A piece of my heart cracked off at the image.

"Mom," I called out.

She perked up and looked right at me, seeming startled by my presence. There was nothing to hide the faint red glow around her glassy eyes – she's been crying. "Hi sweetie," she croaked, sniffling her nose and attempting to cover it up with a weak chuckle.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I strolled up to her. Taking a seat next to her at the table, I rested one arm on the back of her chair and didn't take my concerned gaze off of her. She avoided my eyes at all costs.

"I don't know," she mumbled.

"What was that today? Why did you do that?" I wondered softly, trying not to upset her anymore than she already was.

She breathed out a sad laugh, shaking her head now. "Beats me."

"You can't let him back in here like that," I sighed. "You can't pretend like he belongs here."

"It just felt like nothing ever changed," she whispered, one of her shoulders shrugging a little.

"But everything has changed, Mom. You need to realize that," I urged. My hand found its way to her shoulder now, squeezing lightly to try and ease her pain. I know that there's nothing I can do to really do that, though. "He's been gone for seven years and he needs to stay gone. He needs to be far away from us because there's nothing else he owes us. After what he did, no matter if it was because 'things got a little hard for him', he's worthless."