Alone Awaken

Chapter 29: Remi

The neon clock on my dashboard reads 9:38pm. I've been sitting in my car at the edge of my neighborhood for the last half hour dreading pulling into my house. It's dark enough where no one has noticed me sitting here like a stalker. Half my neighbors are old people that just sit on the couch rather than wonder about the car parked at the four way stop. My family lives on the side of town where they don't care what you're doing. They don't stick their nose in other peoples business. The type that just wave in passing and don't bother to make small talk because its ultimately, pointless. I like this part of town. The other side are the opposite. New houses built by families that want to show off how much money they have. That their property represents their status. That they're "above" us, on this side of town. Growing up I envied them. I wanted to be them. I wanted to be better then what I had. It took me losing everything I loved to snap me into reality. I already had everything, until I ruined it all. A single tear falls down my cheek. I gather the tear between my fingers and look at it. As if this single tear had all the answers. I smile to myself and brush the dampness on my leg. That's not you anymore, you are better now, you are ok, you are happy.

I shift my car into drive and drive down to my house.

It's a simple ranch style home built decades ago. Yellow with black shutters, always reminded me of a bumble bee and disliked it. But for some reason today, it kind of makes me smile.

I put my car in park and unplug my phone from the car charger. I quickly open up my messages from Colton and text him.

"Just got home, I'll prolly go to bed soon. So good luck tomorrow and I can't wait to see you😘"

I click send and wait for the little "delivered" text pops up. I click my phone into sleep and heave myself out of the car. I grab my things and head to the garage. I kick the garage side door open from habit and walk up the two-step cement blocks that lead to the kitchen. I grab the doorknob and step forward to go inside until I'm abruptly stopped by the lock door I'm trying to get through.

"Fuck! Hello!" I smack the door in irritation. They knew I was coming home why is the door locked? "Mom! Dad! Helloooooo!" I raise my voice another octave in annoyance. I could have easily gotten my keys out of my backpack and unlocked it myself, but my moodiness prevails the logical side of my brain. I hear quick footsteps on the other side and muffling noises. The doorknob rattles and it swings open to reveal my mother with a giant smile on her face.

"Oh honey you're here!" She opens her arms wide for me to come into her arms. I hesitate for a moment and think about not hugging her. But then again, I should, I'm really all she has left besides my dad. I give a side smile and step up into the kitchen straight into my mother's arms. I can feel her stiffen in surprise for a second then relax into a hug that's familiar, warm and comforting. I feel my own shoulders drop without even knowing how tense they were.

"Well would you look at that? Your hugging your mother." I look up and see my dad standing there in his oversized sweatpants and twenty year old sports team t-shirt with paint stains and.. other stains I couldn't really tell you what they were. "Do I get one too?" My mother slightly pushes me towards my dad. I hate when she does that. I drop my duffel bag on the kitchen floor and awkwardly throw my arms around is shoulders. "Oh you can squeeze harder than that." He always played this game, always telling me to hug him harder, to show him how strong I was. So I squeezed him harder. "Ahhh ok! good hug." He slowly lets me go and smiles at me. I step back running into my duffel bag and practically fall over.

"Oh let me get that!" My mother quickly grabs my bag and brings it to the dinning room that connects to the kitchen. The house had upgrades throughout the years. Walls came down, new paint colors went up but it always kept its homie feel. I walk the three steps it takes to get to the dining room and slump into the chair. My dad makes his way back to the living room couch that open ups directly to the kitchen. You can have clear conversations from the dining room to the living room. Half the time my dad just eats in the living room while we ate at the table. Some of my friends always thought it was weird. That we all didn't sit at the table. But he was still there, he still ate with us. I didn't have many friends over for dinner after that.