Supernovas & Escapism

Chapter Forty-Three

      The light is what wakes me up in the end. As is pours in through the curtains, I realize at some point I had in fact made it to bed.

     Not that I was any the wiser—the majority of my thoughts were still swimming in this absent-minded numbness that came from having not one, but two substantial conversations about my mom. Whilst one was filled with the promise that maybe I could talk about her without letting her go completely, the other showed me a side that I had never really considered about her. But then I guess there was a lot that I didn't know about my mom. And only now was I coming to comprehend that that was okay.

     My mind was somewhere in between lazily remembering these conversations and trying to process what this now meant for me. Nothing would ever be like it was, because there was just too much that had changed for that to be the case. However, it felt like less of an uphill battle that I had to fight alone.

     The smell of scrambled eggs suddenly invaded my nose. Since neither me nor my dad could cook worth a damn, it probably meant that Glory was conscious somewhere downstairs. No doubt probably having one of her discussions with dad about how she had heard everything—I swear, she must have ears in the wall or something because it's scary how much she can pull from nothing. The muffled sound of people talking calmly enters my ear, but I can't discern what the hell anyone is saying right now. All I can make out is Glory's 'holier-than-thou' tone peaking above everything else.

     Judging by how long it takes me to muster the strength to even get up, I can tell it's way before noon. In spite of this, somehow, I manage to get myself up and at least partly dressed; throwing on some loose sweatpants and a tank-top that looks like it might be better suited for the wash. Still, it passes the smell test so I think that it can't be that bad.

     I take the stairs down one at a time, each one generating a near deafening creak. My body can barely function through this lack of sleep.

     When I reach the bottom, there are four heads sitting at the dining table. Of course with their only being four in our family, I immediately take a step back. For a few moments, this disorientation unfolds within me until my father's eyes lock onto mines. As always, he says nothing and instead gives a curt nod. For him, last night was nothing more than ironing out the kinks in our relationship.

     It wouldn't surprise me if he slipped back into common routine.

     "There's the man of the hour," Glory says as she catches me from the doorway. "Come in, grab breakfast."

     Slowly, I stagger into the kitchen, rubbing at my eyes and just wishing that the world would wait a second for me to right myself. When I turn to the table, I catch the forth figure again.

     It takes a few seconds for the silhouette to kick in. And even then, it's a little hard to believe.

     Garth. Garth is in my home waxing poetic with my family.

     There's a brief pause when I enter the room where he doesn't turn to face me. But when he does, it feels like the world has been tilted on some sort of axis. He sits there, smiling, as if this is the most regular thing in the world.

     It's not that I don't want to see him here, it's just that I'm not sure how to process it.

     Everything up until this point has been my two lives separated from each other. There is my home life where I hide everything that needs to be said on the inside, and then there's my night life where everything in my head becomes live. It's a current flowing through me that I cannot control and I think I just might surge at any moment.

     "Morning," he says. It's such a casual thing that I forget for a moment that it isn't just us. There's a fraction of a second where I want to go over and rest my hand on his. But this thought only lasts as long as I forget about my family sitting there.

     Instead, I pace towards the kitchen table, still sluggish from a lack of decent good nights rest. "Morning," I mumble back to him, once again trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. "What are you doing here?"

     The question is not supposed to come out as accusatory, but the way his face shifts, I can tell he's taken it that way. Immediately, I want to take the words back, but then what would everyone else say.

     It was so much easier to be with Garth when it was just us. I'd still not grown at all comfortable with trying to be with him in front of other people. Whether it was down to some macho pride bullshit or whether it was because I didn't know how to make myself that vulnerable, I wasn't quite sure.

     My father cleared his throat from the head end of the table, glasses perched on his nose. "Your friend here came round at nine in the morning," he said. The way he said it almost made me sick to my stomach, even though I knew it shouldn't. I had nothing to hide from my father. "I told him you weren't up but that he should come in anyway."

     Turning to Garth to confirm, he gave his own curt nod.

     Despite it not even being noon yet, he had the fresh-faced look of an early riser on his face. Again, he was wearing one of his band-tees to some alternative grunge act I've never even heard of. The hazel in his eyes seemed to glint in the light of the day, and it was only now that I realized I'd never been this close to him when the sun was up. Well, save for that altercation that had started this whole elaborate thing between us.

     "Why didn't you wake me?" I asked. Obviously, the question was aimed at my dad, but I was half expecting an answer from Garth too.

     There was a silence that lingered for the longest time. "You had a long night," my dad finally responded. "I felt like maybe a few more hours might have done you some good."

     I glanced round the faces of the table. Glory was doing everything she could to hide that wicked grin—she knew full well the extent of our friendship and seemed to want it more than me. My dad looked partially confused by the whole thing, a brow half-cocked and an expression puzzled beyond all belief. Katy, who was chewing through a bowl of cereal like a cow chews cud, store blankly at some point on the wall. Her blissful unawareness of this whole situation made me want to thank her.

     Finally, there was Garth, who was just sitting there with a glass of half-filled orange juice resting in front of him. His smile upon closer inspection seemed more somber and final.

     "Do you mind if I talk to Garth for a minute?" I say. "I can take it to my room."

     My dad looks from me, to Garth, to me again. His puzzled look has only grown on his face. As he's about to open his mouth to say something, Glory cuts in first.

     "Go," she speaks softly. "I think you two have a lot to talk about."

     Without even giving it a second thought, I take his hand and pull him to his feet. I don't dare look back as we climb the steps, because I don't need to see that 'oh' face from my dad when he comes to the realization.