To The Moon and Back

𝟐𝟐 | 𝐧𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐚

N E B U L A

A cloud of dust and gas in space, usually illuminated by one or more stars. Nebulae represent the raw material the stars are made of.

T O  T H E
M O O N & B A C K

WE LEFT THE hospital just over half an hour ago. We stopped at this breakfast place down the street from my parent's house, but they were too busy, so dad and I stopped by the grocery store and picked up a few things to make something. Since having four children, my father has learned to cook a few things, but the only thing that actually tastes pleasant is his pancakes. 

It's the only thing I can make, too.

When we arrive at my fathers' house, the lights are on and we walk inside with bags in hand. He closes the door behind me and I am instantly greeted by Prim at the door. I drop my keys on the entryway table and pet her before following behind my father into the kitchen.

Alula's sitting at the kitchen island, her faded pink hair tucked behind her ears as she scrolls through her phone. I don't see my mother but I hear the shower running upstairs.

At the sound of our arrival, Alula glances over at us, freezing when she sees me before she sighs in relief. I know my father lied to mother about where I was—or more so where I wasn't—last night, but Alula, father, and I all look like spitting images of each other right now, I wouldn't be surprised if she is suspicious.

"You're back." Alula says toying with her long faux nails and I nod, placing the plastic bags down on the counter. "Where the hell were you?"

I run my fingers through my hair as I lean against the bench opposite her. "I stayed with a friend." I say quietly. 

Rory isn't a friend. But that's none of Alula's business.

She nods slowly, narrowing her eyes and it irritates me. Her green eyes show disbelief. "A friend?" she repeats and my father turns around to send her a warning look as he unloads the bags and preheats the stove. "And did you forget you have a phone?"

I roll my eyes, my hands gripping the edge of the counter on each side of me. "It died."

Now she rolls her eyes, nodding. "What a coincidence." she rests her chin atop her hand, glaring at me. "What if something bad happened? What if mum and dad got into an accident? What if I was calling you for help?"

I push off the counter. "What if I just happened to answer that time?" I turn the question back around on her. "Exactly. I probably wouldn't. Just like your scenarios probably wouldn't happen."

She huffs before taking her phone off the countertop and beginning to scroll through Instagram. She knows I'm right. And even if I'm not, I will make sure I at least sound right.

I watch as my sister closely analyses the girls being portrayed on her screen. I squint as she zooms in on a girl in a bikini, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Her eyes light up before begins typing something beneath the picture.

I zone out momentarily as my father does something in the background and Prim licks her metal bowl clean, where it sits near the archway, making an obnoxious scraping sound as she nudges it from one end of the room, to the complete opposite end.

As children, despite Alula being a girl and me a boy, we were almost impossible to tell apart at times. But then we grew up and Alula's dark hair got lighter, mine got darker. Her blue eyes faded into a sea-green and mine turned to stone.

It makes me wonder if we were ever alike aside from physical appearance. I'm stubborn, she's a push over. I'm angry, she's calm. I'm depressed, she's content. She has self-control, I don't. Was I once calm? Was I once. . .I don't know. . .content? Or was she once stubborn too, but she had to learn to be less grounded because of me and my actions.