Out of the Ordinary

Chapter 13

I couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe I'd ended up here, after working so hard to avoid it. After careful planning, and plotting, and ruminating... here I was, surrounded by the four walls I'd told myself I'd avoid. But thanks to Emily, and my mother, and even Harry, I lay sulking in my childhood bed, arms crossed, glaring at the yellow walls like the petulant child I still felt like I was. These walls were used to my anger, my frustration, my stubbornness - and they welcomed me back into their embrace all too willingly.

Emily had had too much to drink. Bryan had plied himself with alcohol to deal with my mother, taking one last shot after she had him dismantle one of the tables, and carry that and all the chairs down into the basement - all after both of my brothers had made their escape (i.e. left to go to their own homes). Lucky for him, Harry volunteered to help.

I offered to drive. I'd pleaded even. I hadn't had anything to drink all night. I could easily drive us back into the city. But Emily didn't trust me with her car, mentioning something about that one time I drove too close to the curb and side-swiped a mailbox (I don't know what she was talking about...). And my mother had insisted that we stay the night - why were we in a rush? There was plenty of room in the house... we could have breakfast in the morning and then take our time leaving... it would be too dark to drive home anyway.

Right. Because there were no lights anywhere on the way home. Especially not once we reached Manhattan...

I was trying not to be bitter. But I watched the sheer curtains of my childhood bedroom flutter into the room, airborne by the central air vent, and couldn't help it. This room used to hold such comfort for me. Yellow was my favorite color all throughout my childhood. It screamed happiness. Joy. Sunshine and rainbows.

Now it felt like a prison. My mother's way of holding me hostage, as if she could break me with the reminders of my past... I'm not sure how exactly, but I just knew that all of this was part of her plan.

And I wasn't going to sit here and take it.

I scrambled out of bed, not bothering to be quiet on the carpeted floor until I cracked the door open. Poking my head out into the hallway, I was relieved to find that it was completely silent save for the soft whir of the air conditioning vents, and eyed my parents' closed door to my left before tip-toeing down the hallway to my right. Mark's bedroom door was closed - that was where Emily was staying - and Will's door was... wide open.

Apparently Mark's bedroom was where Bryan decided he'd be staying, too, despite my mother's wishes.

I liked what he had in mind.

Carefully, taking extra care over the one step that creaked loudly enough to wake up the entire house, I made my way downstairs, and let out a long breath I didn't realize I was holding when my bare feet touched the cool, hardwood floor of the foyer.

I'd almost forgotten the constricting panic, the rush of adrenaline that came with success. I hadn't had to sneak anywhere, for anything since high school - and then, most of my sneaking was motivated by the promise of a late-night snack in the fridge. Now, here I was, a twenty year old woman, sneaking around in my own house in the hopes that he was awake, and as eager to see me as I was to see him.

Rounding the corner into the living room, I paused, squinting through the darkness to see if there was any sign of movement from the lump on the couch.

There wasn't.

But I went over anyway, not taking as much care to be quiet as I probably should have.

His toes were poking out from the end of the comforter, and I smiled as I covered them again before sliding in between the coffee table and the couch to sit for a minute on the table top. He lay on his back, his arms crossed over the top of the blanket, and I briefly wondered if he was uncomfortable, if the couch was too small to move around on, if he usually slept like that - but then it occurred to me that he'd probably slept in stranger positions, let alone places.