Hometorius : Coming Home

chapter 18 : Apple Pie With Cold Coffee

Kate POV

I sat alone in the brown kitchen. The apple pie was baking in the oven. A cup of cold coffee stood in front of me on the table. I didn't know what to do with myself. I waited for any phone call. From Marylin, from my parents, from any of our friends. The phone, however, remained silent for several hours.

I could smell the cake already. I was lucky that it's been warm outside for some time and the apples on the apple tree were ripe enough to eat. I collected some of them, found the products I needed in the fridge and decided to make a cake. It's a relief I can bake.

"It'll be ready in a moment," I thought, getting up from the table. I headed up the stairs and to Margaret's room. For a moment, I wondered if I was allowed to just enter this room. It was the last place in this house where I would like to be. That trauma will probably stay with me for the rest of my life.

Fortunately, before I left the room and went downstairs on that unlucky day of Margaret's death, I covered her icy body with some cloth I found. I have never seen anything like this before. I didn't expect anything like that to happen. But oh well.

Sometimes I think about the meaning of life. My life in particular. It makes sense to be alive when your life isn't just about surviving. For as long as I can remember, I've always had this problem. I always felt different, unnecessary. I tried, however, not to show it in the presence of other people. But I was alone now, just me and my thoughts. Until now, I've been bearing myself, but who knows when I will cross the line.

I even went to the doctor's. He forbade me to stay in solitude for too long. He said it's bad for me. That's why I got so scared when the mirror sucked me in or when Margaret died and left me alone. I was afraid I wouldn't stand it and I would do something to myself. I hate this disease. I don't even remember what it's called. Maybe that's for the best. At least I won't tell anyone about it, and so no one will laugh at me. But who? Who am I thinking about? I don't know it myself.

One thing I know is that I hate being alone for more than half an hour. When it's more than that, I start to get nervous. It's enough for me if someone just sits with me. It wasn't about not having anyone to talk to when I was alone. No. Quite the opposite. I just needed someone to be with me, to sit in peace and quiet. I wanted to think in someone's company. Now I was able to think without anybody's presence, but can I keep it up until Marylin's return? This question tormented me right from the moment she left.

Suddenly, the oven's loud 'ding' snatched me out of the trance. The apple pie was ready. I grabbed a brown towel, opened the oven cautiously, and grabbed the red-hot cake plate. My apple pie smelled delicious. I hoped it tasted half as good.

I put the baking tray on the pad on the table and covered it with an anti-fly net. I decided to go upstairs first. I don't really know why I wanted to do it. Some voices inside told me that this was what I was supposed to do.

I started to climb up the stairs to the second floor. I stood in front of the door to Margaret's room and hesitated. My heart beat faster. I was afraid. I didn't want to see my friend's body again. Unfortunately, I'm not as brave as Marylin.

Suddenly, I heard the creaking sound of the floor downstairs. For a second, I was relieved that I didn't have to enter the room, but I quickly came back to my senses and my fear peaked again. Who could be in this house? I sneaked to the railing of the stairs, which by the way was made of rough birch very pleasant to the touch, and I looked down. I leaned too far and lost my balance, almost falling. But like... if I fell, it would be nothing. Nobody is interested in me.

Despite my almost-sacrifice, I didn't see anyone nor anything. So slowly, keeping as quiet as possible, I went down the stairs. I was already in the living room when I saw him. Anri.

"What are you doing here?" I asked doubtfully, leaning against the wall.

The boy looked at my green eyes for a moment. Only at that moment did I notice that his eyes had a unique golden color.

"Is Marylin here?" he answered with a question.

"You haven't answered me," I got irritated and sat down in my chair.

"Neither have you."

God, give me patience. I hated this arrogant rat so much. Even his wonderful eyes will never change my opinion about him. I took a deep breath to calm down a bit.

"No, she's not here," I answered his question.

"I just came here for her. Where is she?"

"I don't know, Anri," I rubbed my forehead resignedly with my hand. "She left to somewhere when she found out about Margaret's death... Apparently you wanted something from her?"

"How do you know?" his expression suddenly changed, he looked as if I just caught him red-handed.

"I heard your voice when Marylin talked with you on the phone," I confessed quietly and looked down at my entwined fingers embarrassed.

"It's fine," he wanted to cheer me up, or so I thought, maybe I was wrong. "I didn't say anything important to her anyway. I will go now. Tell her that I came by."

I wonder what they're plotting. Maybe they're dating? After all, they would somehow suit each other. He stood up and went to the door when my voice stopped him.

"If you know where she is, tell me," I said, suspicious.

For a moment he remained silent, wondering what to say and that's how I knew. He knew. I felt it. And I knew he would tell me.

"Tell me. I know you know something," I kept pushing him to spill. "If you didn't know, you would've just left..."

"You've got a point here," he said slowly with a faint smirk and approached me, put his hands on my shoulders (he did not reach my waist, I was too short) and then added in a hoarse whisper, "I know where it is. More or less."

"Where?" I was asking like a small child and that's exactly how I felt with him.

"In France," he replied and left, leaving me dumbfounded in the living room.