August:
As we pull up, the house is beaming. It's massive with a wrap-around porch on every level. It looks like an old colonial-type house. It's covered in twinkling lights and decorative ribbon. The driveway is made out of red cobblestone and curves around a fountain. This place seems familiar. It's gorgeous. He didn't tell me he was rich, I was not prepared for this. Rich people make me nervous, they're always unapologetically rude. Well, I guess he's an exception, but still.
It's snowing but I am sweating. Gross. We walk up a steep stone path to the large, white front door. The door has glass that looks like ice and it distorts what's in the house. Andrew reaches out and rings the doorbell. It sounds like a church bell.
An older woman with short blonde hair, curled into a perfect bob, throws the door open and pulls Andrew into a loving embrace. "Hey mom." he giggles. He looks just like his mom. A rugged older man with a brown and white beard and short brown hair walks up and sticks his hand out. "Are you a friend of Andy's?" He asks, his voice is so deep it could cause an earthquake. "Y-yes." I nod and shake his hand. I try really hard to make my handshake firm but he's so damn strong. Suddenly he pulls me in and briefly hugs me. "Any friend of Andy's is a friend of mine" He says with a laugh. THAT is what I imagine Santa sounds like when he laughs. It was so joyful and warm.
When we step inside, the hallway is just as ornate and beautiful as the outside. A beautiful red carpet leads from the front door, up a set of giant stairs. I'm so out of place. Both his parents are wearing matching sweaters and they are talking Andrews's ear off. I can barely hear the conversation. They lead us into the living room, the ceiling is really tall with lots of decorative molding, and there is a massive Undecorated pine tree in the corner of the room. They have a huge white couch placed in front of the fireplace. It feels like there are a lot of decorations missing.
"So, son! What's your name?" Andrew's father puts his arm around my shoulders "A-august." "There's more to a name than that" He furrows his bushy eyebrows. "Just August, sir." He laughs "That's a beautiful name!" his mom asks."Welcome to our home! My name is Patrisha and my husband is Steven. You can call me Patty though." She smiles. Andrew definitely has his mother's smile.
"You guys ready to decorate the tree?" That's why it's so bare. What if I break the ornaments? I don't want them to hate me, they seem nice. "Yeah!" Andrew shouts. I'm struggling to breathe. Shit. Not now, please. "Can I use the restroom?" I ask. "Of course honey, it's the first door to the left of the stairs." Patty chirps. I nod and step back into the hall and rush into the bathroom.
YOU ARE READING
Learning to Cope
RomanceA promising nursing student volunteers for the "golden angels program" at his local hospital where he meets a man struggling with his mental health and the cards life has dealt him. How will he recover? (This story is the product of disassociating)
