How To Live

Chapter Thirteen

I haven't left my room since yesterday and I don't think anyone inside of my house really cares. My Father left for work early this morning and I haven't heard my Mother make a sound for hours.

I am just lying here in my bed, willing the warmth and cosiness of my blankets to filter it's way inside my chest, but so far I'm still stone cold inside.

Yesterday's events have left my entire family on edge, things between my Father and me are rockier than ever and I am not even sure whether my Mother is in the loop with what has been going on. I don't know how often her and Father talk, especially now that I have breached the affair issue, I don't know if they even talk at all. I don't know whether she confronted him about the affair and I don't know if he told her about the trespassing incident.

To be honest, I don't really care all that much anymore.

My own personal downward spiral is far too time consuming for me to focus on and I don't have the time or the energy to pay attention on their drama as well. This family is segregated into three different parts that just don't fit together anymore without the glue that was Tommy to hold them together.

I hear footsteps outside of my door and my gaze flicks to doorway, but no one enters my room. I can see a shadow moving past my room underneath the small sliver of light that has managed to creep its way into my tomb of darkness. The shadow moves past my room and the floorboards creak with it.

I wait a few moments before hauling myself out of bed and I quietly open my door and creep down the hall, knowing where the creaky floorboards are and avoiding them. The door to Tommy's bedroom is opened slightly and my throat tightens at the sight.

His room has been shut up since the day that he died.

I haven't been inside since the day of his wake, it was too hard, seeing all of his stuff lying around the room just like he left it. It was far too easy to imagine that he was coming back in a couple of hours to this space that was so lived in. It was too hard to accept that it couldn't be the truth. I don't even know if my parents have stepped foot into his room, I doubt my Mother has, she's been too busy grieving. As for my Dad, I just don't even know what to expect from him anymore.

I poke my head around the door and see my Mother sitting on the floor with her back to me. She is clutching a one of the shirts that was strewn about the floor, her shoulders shaking lightly. The room looks like a minefield, clothes and items thrown about the place, but that's just the way Tommy liked it. He used to call it 'organised chaos', but I just call it an absolute mess.

I stand hesitantly by the door for a few moments before deciding to join my Mother and venture into the room. I kneel down beside her slowly and she jumps slightly when she finally notices me.

"Ashton, I didn't see you there." She says wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

They are red and puffy and a sight that I am all too used to seeing. They used to be big and blue and bright, and I would give anything to see my Mother's eyes sparkle the way they used to.

"Hey Mom. How are you doing?" I ask softly averting my eyes.

This scene is too tragic to look at. A Mother cowering in her dead sons room as she cries into one of his old shirts. I used to think things like this don't happen to real people, but they do, and they are.

"I'm okay. I'm going to be okay." She whispers and folds the shirt on her lap, reaching for another one and doing the same.

"Mom, can we talk?" I ask her hesitantly and she pauses mid fold and turns to look at me.