“Hey, bud,” Roan says, pointing to Nolan’s mouth, “I think you got a little something-something on your face.”
Nolan runs the back of his hand across his mouth before grinning devilishly over at his mother.
“We’re having lunch, then cake,” she admonishes gently although she doesn’t seem very put out by it, “not the other way around.”
Feeling overwhelmed, I take in the colorful display of pink and black balloons and the banner that is strung from one corner of the kitchen to the other as well as the beautiful cake. I… I can’t believe they did all this for me. I really can’t. Again I feel a slight burning sensation against the back of my eyelids before doing my best to blink the unexpected emotion away.
I’ve been holding onto my anger for so long, I’m actually not quite sure what to do with it. My eyes slide to Leah in confusion. I can’t help but stare at her quizzically, not understanding why she would go to all this trouble for me. I haven’t exactly been nice to her over the years. I mean, she barged her way into our lives before I was ready for my dad to move on.
And I took it out on her any chance I could.
The rest of the afternoon progresses in much the same fashion. It’s actually… kind of… nice. Leah asks me a lot of questions about Paris. My dad and Roan talk football. And the twins run around like their butts are on fire before dragging me and Roan off to their bedrooms to see all the toys they have accumulated in four short years.
As I walk through the upstairs hallway, I take a hesitant peek inside the room I lived in for the last two years of high school. It looks exactly the same as the day I left. Which, I hate to admit, feels a little bit like balm soothing my soul right now.
Why it should even matter, I have no clue. It’s not like I come here very often. Because I don’t. I come here only when I absolutely have to. Like Thanksgiving and Christmas. Other than that, I’ve become extremely good at coming up with excuses to avoid them.
But they still kept my room for me.
I mean, they certainly could have packed everything up into boxes and given the kids a much needed playroom, but they didn’t. They kept a space for me as if I truly belong here with them. As if I really am a part of this family.
Even as tangled up as I am in my thoughts, I know the exactly moment he steps behind me. His presence is overwhelming and for some strange reason I feel incredibly attuned to him. Silently his breath feathers across the back of my neck. A slight shiver races through me at his close proximity.
“Old room?”
I nod as my eyes continue sliding over what I’ve chosen to leave behind. The white four poster bed, shelves of dance competition trophies, a pair of well-loved pink ballet shoes hanging from ribbons on the wall, light blue billowy curtains. Favorite books. The only thing missing is my dresser which I have in my apartment.
Moving further into the room, Roan’s eyes seem to take in everything which leaves me feeling oddly exposed. All of this stuff, it’s who I am. It’s what makes up the pieces of me. On the night stand table is a framed five by seven. Picking it up, he takes a closer look. Almost as if he’s studying it.
The photo was snapped about six months before my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Every time I look at it, I can’t help but remember how good our life was right before it blew up.
Sometimes it’s hard to believe that everything can be perfectly fine one minute and then in complete shambles the next. And there’s nothing that can prepare you for it either. It just sneaks up on you out of nowhere. And then… nothing is ever the same again.
It never goes back to normal.
Not the normal you used to know and never quite appreciated. It settles into a pattern of tests and chemo and bouts of sickness as things slowly slide downhill instead of getting better until you finally manage to forget entirely that there ever was a time in your life when you were happy and carefree and… normal.
It sucks.
Cancer fucking sucks.
“You look just like her.”
I give him a strained smile knowing it’s filled with achy sadness. It still hurts to look at that picture which is exactly why I left it here in my old bedroom. I can’t bear knowing she’s really gone from my life and isn’t coming back. That everything I go through now will be without her guidance and advice.
Very gently he sets the framed photo back where it had been sitting. He does it as if it’s the most precious thing in the world which leaves my heart feeling raw and defenseless. Roan isn’t turning out to be the guy I first pegged him to be. He has a softer, gentler side he keeps buried beneath the cocky, I-can-get-as-much-ass-as-I-want football player.