r.e.m

blick sum.

"I love a drummer boy, ba-rumpa rump bum
Like-like come here, daddy, let me fix your loose screw
Buss for me like I buss for you
Ride for me like I ride on you"

Being back home felt strange. No, more than that, it felt wrong. Virginia had never really felt like home to me. I always felt out of place, like I didn't belong. The air here carried too much weight, too many memories. The only reason I felt any sense of peace now was because Jazelle was with me. Without her, this place would swallow me whole.

We landed just a few hours ago. Jazelle wasn't having the 14-hour drive, no matter how much I tried to sell her on it. I told her I could shave it down to ten hours easy, but she wasn't buying it. She raised an eyebrow and gave me that look, the one that said, "I'm not debating this." So we flew. But I struck a deal: I'd drive us back.

I rented a Suburban to make sure all of Zyra's stuff would fit. Her texts had been non-stop, lighting up both our phones with every little update. When are you getting here? You still coming? How long until you get to the house? I could feel her impatience through the screen.

Truthfully, I was dreading this moment, seeing my mom, seeing what she'd become. I knew it was going to break me, but I couldn't leave Zyra there a minute longer.

Jazelle sensed it too, that knot tightening in my chest. She gave me the time I needed as we sat in front of the house, her hand wrapped around mine, holding it between both of hers. She rubbed her thumb gently over my knuckles, grounding me in her silent support. She knew everything in terms of how strained things had been with my mom. How hard it was to face what was behind that door.

I took a deep breath, the weight of the air heavy in my lungs. "Let's go get Zyra," I finally said, forcing myself to push forward. Jazelle nodded and sent Zyra a text. Before I could even round the car to open her door like I usually do, she was already out, standing by my side. No words needed.

We barely made it halfway to the front porch before the door swung open. Zyra stood there, her backpack already strapped on, ready to leave. She flew into my arms like a lifeline, clinging to me as if she'd been holding her breath until this moment. I held her tight, letting her know with everything in me that I was here now and that nothing would hurt her again.

After a long moment, we let go, and Zyra immediately went to hug Jazelle with the same energy. 

"Go wait in the car, Zy," I told her once they pulled apart. "I'll grab your stuff."

Zyra hesitated for just a second, her eyes flicking toward the house. "Ma's not in good shape," She warned, her voice barely a whisper. Then, with a quick glance at me, she bolted for the Suburban.

I exchanged a look with Jazelle. She didn't need to say anything and her eyes told me she was ready if I was. I had to face my mom.

Stepping into the house was like walking into a different world. The place was a mess. Clothes, dishes, junk scattered everywhere like it hadn't been cleaned in weeks. This wasn't her. My mom was the type to lose her mind if a dish sat in the sink too long. But this...this was a mess. I stepped over a pile of laundry and made my way toward the stairs, Jazelle quietly following behind.