xix

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by spaceboy-irwin

by spaceboy-irwin

/ / Chapter Four: An Artificial Chrysalis / /

Wincing as he bent forward, Ariel herded Noah and Charlotte into the house. Already, the 16-year-old was dreading the rest of his night, which consisted of exacerbating the ache in his back by leaning over a stove to cook. Then, he'd clean the kitchen and do the immense amount of laundry that he, his siblings, and his mother had produced. Next came a thick stack of homework followed by helping his siblings with theirs, and then putting them to bed.

Before he could finish mentally looking through his to do list, a strong scent hit Ariel's nose. The teenager entered the kitchen to see a giant plate with spaghetti stacked up on top of it. It was Mary Iemata's specialty, the one meal Ariel could never get quite right. "Okay, um... you guys start eating, okay?" the 16-year-old said, nonplussed. He remembered the days when he barely would've reacted, might've even complained about the lack of mushrooms in it. Now, Ariel was at a loss for words, his mouth was slightly open, and mushrooms were the last thing on his mind.

Blinking rapidly in an attempt to comprehend what was happening, Ariel slowly walked upstairs and towards his mother's room. He barely had to enter before realising something was wrong--no, something was different. Like always, Ms. Iemata wasn't there, but neither were the empty bottles of Absolut or the lingering scent of someone who hadn't showered. A slight hint of alcohol still hung in the air, but even that had faded slightly. Bewildered, Ariel walked back downstairs.

Aussie chicken. Though his mum, yet again, wasn't home, food covered the counter. Upon the dinner table, three plates held dinner for Noah, Charlotte, and Ariel, specially customised to fit each child's liking. Ariel's had extra mushrooms while Noah's had nearly none, with Charlotte's holding an average amount. Cups were filled with freshly made lemonade, ice clinking against the circular plastic walls. One napkin was delicately placed besides Ariel's plate with a knife and fork, while Charlotte had two napkins and a spoon. As for Noah, he had a stack of five napkins and a fork and spoon.

Despite sitting on the sidelines for quite some time, Mary still knew her kids.

The floors were clean. Despite the weeks that had passed since Ariel last vacuumed and mopped, the carpets and tile were softer and shinier than ever. The faded red stains where Noah and Charlotte had had a cherry throwing fight were gone. Ariel had spent hours on those to no avail, but now they were just... gone. Muddy footprints in the shape of Noah's Lighting McQueen shoes had been scrubbed from the light-coloured tile by the front door. Rugs had been freed from the dirt and mud that straightjacketed them. The damn door handles had been scrubbed and shined.

Ariel walked slowly through the house, staring in awe at the hours of work that'd been done. His joints and back were practically crying with relief; Ariel was practically crying with relief.

Sighing and stretching as he left Charlotte's room, the eldest Iemata boy headed towards his mother's room. As it had been for the past few nights, the bed was empty, the scent of alcohol was dissipating, and the bathroom smelled of shampoo. Two mugs sat, empty, on the bedside table, that Ariel picked up to take downstairs. One of them had coffee remnants pooling in the bottom, while the other had scraps of tea leaves plastered to the sides.

Smiling slightly, Ariel carried the dishes into the kitchen and dropped them into the sink. Yawning like all of the adorable animal videos he'd seen, the 16-year-old started washing them. He soaped and scrubbed and dried before setting the mugs back in the cupboards. Though it was something Ariel had done a thousand times before, the common action filled him with an emotion he couldn't put a name to. Something close to... normalcy. Giggling quietly, the teenager smiled to himself.

He had a hate/love relationship with the word "normal." He hated it when the word was used to try to shove someone into society's mould, to make them conform. But when normal was this idea of a happy home life, with the kids doing some chores but not all, with the parent being the breadwinner? Ariel fucking loved that type of normal.

Laughter. Specifically the feminine version of Ariel's giggle. Eyebrows creased on confusion, the 16-year-old walked further into his home with Charlotte and Noah trailing him. Leaning against the counter, there was a tall man with short black hair and shimmery hazel eyes. Beside him stood Ariel's mother--the source of the giggle. Her back was to her kids as she held a spoon to stir the contents of a metal pot. Steam puffed up around the stove, carrying with it a delicious aroma.

"Mummy?" Noah's voice echoed through the kitchen. Mary turned, slapping a lid over the pot. A bright smile bloomed across her slightly wrinkled features, happiness shining behind her eyes.

"Hi, sweetheart," she said, stumbling forwards and wrapping her youngest child in a hug. After a few moments, Charlotte ran to join the hug. Meanwhile, Ariel stared blankly. He struggled to decipher the assault of emotions that bounced around his chest and brain; disbelief, joy, anger. "Ariel? Sweetheart?" Mary Iemata's voice broke through Ariel's haze. His head snapped up to look at his mother. "This is Reynold," she said, "my fiancé."