One Ticket to Fill a Lacuna

Chapter 23 || Mirror, Mirror On the Wall

Chapter 23-

A knock on the door.

            Sun seeps through the partly open curtains and I turn over in bed, expecting to see my father. He’s not there. I panic for a couple of second, rethinking my dream and if he’s gone. Did he leave? Am I alone again? Then, I realize he likely woke up before me, and the dream was just that; a dream. It wasn’t real. My father will not disappear. Again.

            Another knock.

            “Wha—?” I mumble into the covers which are pulled up by my face, blocking out the chilly air bleeding through the window, cracked open to let in fresh air over the night.

            “Can I come in?” A woman’s voice comes through the door.

            “Mhm,” I grunt and roll over, wrapping myself even tighter in the blankets. Sleep is so welcoming, so comfortable…

            My eyes are nearly closing again when the door opens at last, letting in Flordellis. She’s chirpier than usual, which is strange to me, still lounging in bed, without an air of ‘morning person’ about me.

            “You can’t stay in bed for so long,” she admonishes. “Your father wants to spend time with you, which isn’t too absurd of a request if you ask me. At least come out and eat lunch with us.”

            “Lunch?” I snap up in bed, slightly less groggy. “Wha—What time is it?”

            “Why, it’s twelve forty-three, darlin’.” She says, her tone friendly and full of benevolence.

            I shake my head in disappointment. “I’ll be down in a bit. Sorry I woke up so late. I couldn’t sleep.” The bits and pieces of the dream that I recall are perplexing and bitter, so I try not to focus on it.

            “Oh, why not?” Flordellis continues to prod me. I just rub my droopy eyes and look at her, thinking of a decent answer.

            “Uh…bad dreams.” It is true, after all. It’s just common enough not to be questioned; something I’d rather not partake in after just waking up.

            “Alright,” she eyes me suspiciously. “Well, here’s your bag. Bathroom is two doors down to the right.” She sets down my backpack by the door and shuffles out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. I pick up the bag, trudging out of bed like a zombie awakening from the grave.

            I look the bag over and conclude that I must’ve left it in the kitchen when Flordellis was presenting her exquisitely delicious cookies yesterday. Yesterday. So much changed in just a single day. Twenty-four hours. I met my father. I felt deeply and sincerely happy for the first time in a long stretch of bitter depression; not feeling good enough because of my mother feeding me lies.

            Even so, my father admitted himself that not all is over. Not everything is fixed. I’d like so dearly to be able for everything to be resolved. I just want to live a normal, happy life. And it cuts into me to know that it won’t happen. Not right away, at least. Yet, if so much could change in one day, maybe it’ll happen again. Maybe within one of the next few days, everything will resolve itself. Ha, fat chance of that happening.

            I gather a pair of dark jeans and an oversized cable knit sweater, snowy in color, before heading out to the bathroom. My bare feet suction against the cold floor and I push open the respective bathroom door, stepping inside. It’s steamy and humid as if another person had just taken a shower before me. I set down my clothes on the counter and run my hand over the small, fogged mirror centered above the sink.