A Summer's Dream

Chapter 31~Christmas Doesn't Look Good With You

“Will she be ok?”

My eyes moved behind their lids tiredly.

“I think so.” Both voices were familiar, yet I couldn’t put a face or name to them.

“She’s been in bed for days…Is she sick?”

“No. She doesn’t have a fever.” There was a little pause and then the same voice sounded more concerned than before. “What happened back there? Did she say anything to you? I can’t imagine what’s gotten into her.”

“No. We only talked a few times…I suppose that was my fault though. I had to go to summer school and I didn’t really call her that much…”

She sounded embarrassed and a little flustered. And then it dawned on me: It was Lydia talking to my mom. I slowly opened my eyes and turned on my other side to hear better. There was a sigh a few more muffled exchanges and then a sure.

My new bedroom door creaked open and I saw the familiar face of Lydia; splattered with concern and a little relief. Her hair was just as golden and long as when I left and it cascaded down her back; reminding me of El.

“Hey.” She nearly whispered.

“Hey yourself.” I croaked back, my throat aching with dryness. I watched as she sat back into a chair by my bed.

“You ok?” Her eyes softened and I could smell her distant perfume scent.

I nodded with a small smile. “I will be.”

“C-Can you tell me what happened?” She was hesitant; trying to not be her usual brash self.

I gave another small smile but shook my head. She nodded hers in understanding and got up, retreating out of my room. I turned to face the window on the opposite wall and squeezed the pillow in between my arms tighter; feeling a tear drop onto the white fabric.

There was a feeling inside my gut. Like those times when you have to make a quick decision at the turn of a coin and regretted the choice later. My forehead and temples ached, like a steady drum beat beating through the center and rippling through the rest of my head.

I had made my choice.

I couldn’t go back. I had no right to regret anything. I broke his heart and I would have to count the pieces and the cost. Day after day, night after night.

Brown eyes.

I swatted away the mental image and cringed at the thought of him. I had never seen those eyes angry, but I would imagine they would be burning at me right now.

Nothing anyone said would make a difference on how I felt though. I felt like a cavity, empty and aching for what it had been filled with. Like a rib cage with no heart or lungs. I had the world and I gave it away, no going back. I could feel another tear slide down my cheek and leap off my chin onto my bed. The sun was bright and loud and it hurt my eyes. So I closed them once more; trying to block out anything and everything.

~*~

“Sweetie?” I groaned at the sound of my mom’s voice echoing through my empty room. “Eat something. Please.” I looked up and she had a plate of something in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“I’m not hungry.” My voice was pleading.

“I know.” She sat down in the seat I dubbed as the visiting chair. It’s like the chair nurses place by your death bed while you’re in the hospital so people could hold your hand and listen to your last words. Only I didn’t want visitors. I didn’t want people to see me this way; so broken and bruised. “But you have to eat something. You’ll lose all your strength if you don’t.” Her eyes echoed the way a concerned mother might look and I studied her face. It had gotten more weathered and tired since when I left. Her tanned skin had grown paler; more ash-like. Her eyes that used to hold a sparkle had dulled and the vary start of crow’s feet was beginning to show around her mouth. She looked nothing like the mom I once knew.

On the plate was a simple sandwich with a side of advil. Yum.

I tried giving her a reassuring smile and downed the medicine; tossing off my covers. My whole body ached from being in bed for days and I tried stretching out each muscle. But everything still hurt. I grabbed a fresh changed of sweats and headed out of my room.

“Where are you going?” She got up, the chair squeaking in the process.

“To take a shower.” I said simply and headed to the bathroom. I may have lost my appetite but greasy hair was something I had no tolerance for.

I stood in the hot water for what seemed like forever, letting it loosen up all of my tight muscles. And after a thorough cleaning process I got out, dressing in comfortable clothes instead of my now wrinkled jeans and t-shirt.

“Do you want to help me unpack?” I looked over and the sandwich was now sitting on the dirty kitchen counter. My gaze went back to my mother and I weakly nodded, heading over to a box. I pulled out familiar pots and pans and other kitchen utensils. She must have just moved in not too long ago. I’m positive her bedroom was all unpacked and organized because she began in the family room; sifting through old Christmas decorations and books. I nearly gagged at the picture of the three of us on a Christmas card. Mom must have had the same impulse because she walked over to where I was standing and snatched the scissors out of my hand and chopped dad’s half off.

“There.” She beamed at me with a satisfied look and I almost smiled.

“There.” I copied her words and continued to take things out of boxes. My amusement fell at the thought of brown eyes and I tried to chase away the empty feeling in my heart.

This kitchen would need a thorough cleaning.