3:30pm

4: moms are the worst. Well, my mom is.

<Goodbye's the saddest word I'll ever breathe>

•°•°•°•

2 missed calls from Stephen 💘

I stared at the words displayed on my phone screen for a while, contemplating what to do. Finally, I bit down on my lower lip and sighed. I wanted to talk to Stephen. Answer the call. Hear his voice. But I decided against it.

With reluctance, I put my phone back into my pocket and fished for the key to the front door under the old, frayed welcome mat mom had put there when I was nine and Dante six. When we were happy and things were normal.

My hand touched the cold jagged side of the key, and I got it out. Picking up Dante's box and placing it under my arm, I slid the key into the keyhole and unlocked the door. It opened with a creak. Slowly, I took a step in and shut the door behind me.

Usually, Dante would whiz past me, even before I was done taking the key out of the keyhole, straight for the kitchen, yelling something like, 'I've got first dibs on the leftover pizza!' or icecream or lasagna, depending on whichever was available, and when he got it, we decide on who really got first dibs on it with a game of rock, paper, scissors. I sucked at it, and Dante always won, but he was willing to share anyway.

Today, the house was silent as I stepped in. Dead silent. And dark too.

Dropping the box on the floor beside the door, I walked around the living room, drawing up curtains and pushing open windows. Sunlight filtered into the room with each window I opened, making it look less depressing than it already was. When I was done, I went up the stairs to my room.

Once in, I got out of my boots, took off my jacket and let my hair loose onto my shoulders and back. I took a hot shower, toweled down and put on grey drawstring pants, a black tank top and mom's old bunny flip flops she'd left behind. I parted my hair into two thick braids and went down the steps to the kitchen for something to eat.

On the counter sat leftover lasagna. Like it was waiting for the usual-Dante bundling in first and him and I bargaining over who to take its life.

I walked up to it and picked it up. Today, it was just for me. No bargaining. I put it in the microwave to get heated up. A minute later I got it out and carried it to the living room.

Placing it on the coffee table, I sat down on the largest couch in the room, opposite the TV, and stared at nothing.

Okay, so I had heated the lasagna. And now I was in front of the TV. The next thing to do was turn on the TV, relax and eat lasagna. But, at the moment, it just didn't seem right. It felt like the lasagna knew something was off. It felt like the house knew Dante was gone. Or I guess it was just me.

I decided against putting on the TV, instead I took my lasagna in one hand and my phone in the other.

I should call Stephen back, I thought.

Tell him I'm sorry. Tell him everything. Just get it all out to him. Like he'd said.

I felt really sad. And lonely. And I needed someone. I mean, of course I had Mikayla. Hell, she was just a call away, but deep down, right now, I didn't want her. I didn't want anyone else but Stephen. I needed him. His empathy. His arms around my shoulders, holding me. I needed him to tell me everything was okay. I needed things to go back to the way it was between us.