I guess he doesn’t want me around his new family after all. Nothing like your past coming back to disrupt your idyllic life.
Looking at the house myself, I notice movement in the kitchen window off to the side. I’m definitely not ready to meet the new wife and face the judgment I know is coming my way.
“Do you mind if I just go up to the room I’ll be staying in for the rest of the night? These pills seem to knock me out soon after I take them.” It’s not a lie, but it’s also a good excuse not to interact with any of them today.
“Of course. You can meet Lizzie in the morning. She’s excited to finally meet you, so expect a big breakfast.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I get out of the truck and open the door to the back seat to grab my suitcase, forgetting for a minute I can’t actually lift it. Before I can try to move it, he’s next to me, gently moving me out of the way and hoisting it out of the truck before closing the door.
Walking in front of me, he leads me to the front door. “Let me show you to your room, and you can settle in for the night.” He leads me through the small foyer and up a flight of stairs right in front of it. I notice a beautiful woman standing in the doorway to what I remember is the kitchen, watching us with what I assume is a worried frown on her face. Too exhausted, both mentally and physically, I simply nod and give her a weak semblance of a smile before I follow him up the stairs.
I barely take in my surroundings as we walk down the hall toward the end. He opens the door and steps inside. With a start, I realize it’s my old room, the same one I slept in when I was a child, and I have to try hard not to show any emotions. It might be the room I used to sleep in, but it doesn’t look the same. The bedroom is beautiful and sophisticated. Nothing left of my purple carpet or the white closet with unicorn stickers all over it. The natural oak wood floor, which creates a striking contrast between the darker floor and lighter wood of the wall, must be new. Opposite the door, between two windows overlooking the valley, is a black, king-sized bed with white bedding—looking comfortable and inviting—the only furniture left from my childhood. Completing the look is a black wardrobe and a gray loveseat in the corner next to a glass door which leads to the balcony.
It’s the perfect room for guests. It’s inviting, making you want to spend time here, but not so personal you feel uncomfortable invading someone else’s space.
I watch him walk toward the loveseat and place my suitcase on top before turning back to me. Looking at his face I notice the nervous tick in his cheek.
Rubbing his neck, he looks around the room one more time. “Well, I… If you need anything else, let me know. We’re just at the other end of the hall.” His smile is quick, barely there. “I’ll…ah…see you in the morning. I hope you sleep well.” With that he turns to head out the door.
“Wayne, I”—his head jerks imperceptibly at my use of his first name, and I dig my fingernails into the skin of my palm to prevent the guilt from filling me—“want to thank you. For dropping everything and coming to help me out. I… I do appreciate it.”
He drops his head slightly and starts to close the door behind him. “You’re welcome, kiddo.”
That’s the second time he’s called me kiddo, and it still throws me. Hearing him call me his childhood nickname for me hurts. I never realized I missed it until today. But it also continues to confuse me. Why is he acting like he didn’t ignore me for the last fourteen years, like he’s the injured party in all of this?
Too groggy to try and figure out what any of this means, I grab my comfy pajamas and head to the en suite to get ready. Washing my face one-handed and brushing my teeth is all I’m capable of before I collapse into bed. I pull the blankets tight around me and pass out.
Chapter Three
I wake up to a room engulfed in bright light and rays of sunshine warming my skin. I glance outside to see the snow coating everything and glistening in the morning sun. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was in a Disney movie with the idyllic serenity outside.
Throwing back the blanket, I slowly get out of bed, making sure not to jolt my arm and shoulder. I grab some new underwear and sweatpants from my bag, and despite the pain shooting through my arm, I get dressed. There is no way I’m going downstairs to face who and whatever without a bra.
I quickly answer both Bob and Dakota’s text messages in our group chat, asking me if I made it okay. I’m touched by their concern; sometimes I forget I have people in my life who care.
On the way out the door, I grab my medication and the sling I took off to get dressed, thinking I’ll put it on after I’ve had some coffee and taken my meds.
I walk down the hall, in no hurry to get downstairs to face the new wife. I look around the upstairs noting the different pictures in the frames lining the walls. They also repainted them in pastel colors, making the space more welcoming. I don’t remember it feeling
