Neighbors at Night

2. Sage

"They should probably keep the door closed though."

Huh?

My eyebrows furrowed as I heard a deep voice drift into the kitchen. I paused in my movements, setting down the stack of plates I was holding to walk into the living room.

I could only assume that they were talking about us, but I was almost positive that I didn't leave the door open-.

My thoughts abruptly trailed off when I realized I had a clear view of the apartment hallway.

I sighed, rolling my eyes at my absentmindedness as I stepped around the multitude of boxes in my path. I leaned over to poke my head through the doorway, glancing to the right and then the left before I spotted a family of three- no, maybe four (?) - walking down the staircase.

There was a teenager who looked to be around my age walking with them, whom of which I assumed was the owner of the voice I'd heard. I couldn't see their features very well but they looked oddly familiar, meaning that they probably attended my high school.

I silently debated calling out to the family for a few seconds (that was the neighborly thing to do right?).

I didn't.

I returned to the kitchen after shutting the front door; it was significantly smaller than the one in our previous apartment - hardly any room to fit more than what was necessary. But I supposed that's just what happens when your single mom gets unfairly demoted.

I finished putting the plates away in the newly designated cupboard and had just started on the bowls when I heard the door to the apartment open. "Sage! I'm home!"

"I'm in the kitchen," I called back.

I turned just as my mom walked into the room and watched as she set down a bundle of picture frames on the table. I felt my shoulders tense at the sight. "I just picked these up from grandma's."

She smiled, as though she wasn't just holding my dad's memorial photos.

He'd died a long time ago; before my mom got accused of plagiarism at work, before we had to move four different times in the span of five years, and before I'd even written my first word.

I couldn't even remember what the police officer looked like. But I remembered that he smelled like cigarettes and cologne, and that there was an eyelash stuck to his cheek. I remembered that the thunder was loud and it completely drowned out the sound of the movie playing on the television behind me. I remembered feeling cold, and how my mom's entire body was trembling when I tried to hug her.

And I remembered that the officer's first words were, "Hello, Ma'am."

"Drunk driver."

"Car crash."

"Fatal."

I remembered those words too.

But I couldn't recall my dad's face, or his voice, or the way he'd apparently sneak me candy when mom wasn't looking.

I understood her devotion to him, and I knew I couldn't even begin to imagine how much heartbreak she must have went through but-.

I smiled back.

It was difficult to mourn for someone I couldn't even recognize.

~~~

Mom let me skip first period to help unpack (or so I'd told her when she asked why) but I was still ten minutes early to my English class. Luckily (or rather unluckily), I still had yet to finish my Spanish assignment from the night before so I decided to sit in my car for the remaining time to work on it.