Without Paige

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

I got home later on Saturday than I expected. I'd spent the morning making breakfast with Katy, which had ended up being pancakes and eggs, though it somehow took us nearly an hour to make. When I finally pulled into my driveway, it was nearly one in the afternoon.

I walked through the door not expecting to see anyone, despite seeing my mother's car in the driveway. Usually we were like repelling magnets, and when one of us came into a room the other was nowhere to be found. But when I stepped inside, she was sitting at the kitchen island, drinking a cup of orange juice and reading the newspaper. I blinked, slipping my shoes off and tucking them into the closet.

"Hi, mom." I said wearily.

She turned towards me, and I bit my lip. Even though we lived in the same house, we rarely crossed paths. It felt more like I was living with a ghost, and right then, she looked like one. Her eyes were red and circled in dark shadows, and her cheeks were scarily hollow. I swallowed, walking towards her.

My mom set her cup down on the counter in front of her, swivelling her chair so she faced me with her whole body, "You didn't come home last night."

I frowned, "I went to Katy's. Sorry, I should have left a note."

"You should have asked." She corrected, sliding off of the chair so she stood. Like me, my mom was tall, but while I'd always thought we were the same height, she somehow seemed to tower over me right then. After a long minute, she sighed, dropping her face into her hand in an exasperated way. It reminded me of the mornings Paige got caught wandering home after spending the night out.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, not knowing what else to say. The house, like me, felt like it was holding its breath. "Next time I will."

My backpack fell off my shoulders, falling into my hands. I swallowed, looking over her again. She was horribly thin, and I blamed it on all of the meals she'd been skipping. I rarely heard her out of her room, and when I did, it was never her in the kitchen. Leaving my bag on the ground, I moved into the kitchen, looking through the fridge and pantry and frowning at the small bits of food that were left. There was almost nothing in the fridge, and a little more in the cupboards. Nothing to make a meal out of.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, looking back at her. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up straight, and I couldn't figure out why I was so afraid of her. She was my mom, I knew there was nothing she would ever do to hurt me, and yet I felt like I was standing in front of a bomb with no idea how to diffuse it. "I could go to the store, make some food."

She swallowed, "The store?"

I looked back at the fridge, pulling the door open to show her. "We don't have much food left."

"Oh," she said, scratching the top of her head. "I was supposed to go last week. I must've forgotten."

She laughed, but I couldn't bring myself to laugh with her. The sound was dry and humorless. I pulled my keys out of my pocket, "Don't worry about it. I'll go."

"No, no." My mom said, shaking her head. "I'll go. You go get some rest."

I wanted to argue, to tell her it looked like she could use it more than me, but I didn't. Instead, I watched her gather her wallet and her own keys and head out the door. Just like that, I was alone again, and the house was quiet, and I felt myself relax. Though I'd hated the feeling of being alone here before, I suddenly welcomed it. I was still worried, but I couldn't help but think I'd narrowly escaped an explosion.

_____________

Practice on Tuesday was uneventful, aside from Gretchen accidentally kicking a ball to my gut. It'd hurt, and she'd apologized enough that the words didn't even sound real anymore, but I'd gotten over it fast enough. I changed in the locker room, showering and pulling my clothes from before back on before heading back out to my car.

It took me a moment to notice Jess, who was standing by my driver's door, waiting for me. When I did, my steps slowed, until I stopped just a few feet away. She looked up at me and smiled sadly, "You missed smoothies on Friday."

I laughed, pulling at the straps of my backpack. "Yeah, I had some stuff to do."

"Some stuff to do," she repeated, one eyebrow raised.

I nodded, moving past her to throw my things in the backseat of Tom the Toyota. Voices carried from the school doors, where a few other girls were leaving with their soccer bags slung over their backs. None of them looked our way. I was surprised they couldn't feel the tension as they passed us. I could feel the crackle of the air on every inch of my skin.

I cleared my throat, "I'll try to make it this Friday."

She nodded, "Okay."

I thought that was what she wanted, that she would leave after I relented, but she didn't. Instead, she stood there, leaning against my car, eyes pointed towards the ground. I swallowed, "Is there something else?"

She blinked, and I realized the way I'd said it had been a little rude. I wasn't the kind of person who spoke to people with a tone like that, let alone to Jess. She pressed her lips together and shook her head, "No, I guess not."

I watched her walk back towards her jeep, arms still crossed in front of her, and I thought about calling her back to apologize. But just like a lot of things I thought about lately, I didn't. Everything felt too complicated, as though the strings were too tangled to fix just now. I sighed, falling into my car and pulling the door shut behind me.

When I got home, I went straight to my room, only to stop in the hallway. Paige's door was open again, but it wasn't empty this time. Through the small slit between the door and the frame, I could hear crying. It was soft, as though muffled by a pillow, and I stilled. This was when Dad usually stepped in, trying to comfort her, even though it usually only ended with them yelling.

I thought about going in and making sure she was okay, but I couldn't move my feet. It was as though they were glued to the floorboards beneath me, and I couldn't advance or retreat, only stand there and listen.

I jumped when my mom pulled the door open, stepping out just in front of me. She blinked at me, rubbing at the wetness of her cheeks and forcing a smile that only made my heart ache more. She cleared her throat, "When did you get home?"

"A minute ago," I said. It sounded more like a whisper.

My mom nodded, moving past me. "I'm going to the police station tonight."

"Okay," I said, not turning to look at her. My eyes were fixed on the still open door to Paige's room, looking in at the ruffled bed sheets and posters that hung above them. The lights were off, and it was dimly lit by the sunlight that poured in through the gapes in the blinds.

By the time I turned around again, my mom was gone.