Being A Single Parent (Pt. 1)

Gray Luh

"Pete? Are you awake?" I whispered to him.

He only responded with a grunt.

The silent buzz of the plane hummed through my ears. Coughs and the sound of moving cloths occasionally filled the silent air.

"Pete?"

"What?" His voice was strained from exhaustion.

I fumbled with my coat zipper.

He let out a heavy sigh to which I knew he was awake. He pried my left hand from the zipper, clearly annoyed from the sound it was causing.

"What if I can't do this?"

"It's 2 in the morning and this plane does not land until 4 so please don't start with the 'what ifs'. Now if you don't mind I'm going back to sleep."

It went silent.

"Pete!"

I pinched his arm.

"Carter!" He whispered shouted back at me.

His eyes opened and revealed his dark brown eyes.

"Why are you so afraid?" He looked at me cautiously, hoping my answer wasn't what he was thinking.

I stayed silent.

"Look, your dad and I will be there until Tyler gets there. We can even get you a therapist. If you want one? I'm not letting you go so easy Carter," he wrapped his right arm around me as I leaned my head on his shoulder.

A silent atmosphere was shared between us, there was nothing left to say. This didn't stop me from shutting up. I told him how I felt and just kept spewing everything that popped up onto my mind.

Eventually my eyelids grew heavy and dared to close on me. I couldn't resist the urge of the dark and calming aura it caused.

...

5am

The wheels of my suitcases thumped along the stone pathway as we made  our way to my new home. 

I enjoyed the sound the ocean made as the waves crashed harshly and how the air made you feel alive.

Pete managed to finally open the door and lead me into the house. The color scheme was simply white with tings of blue.

I shut the door behind me and left my bags by the entrance. Following Pete I found myself standing in the kitchen looking at my dad cooking what appeared to be French toast.

"Hey dad!" I smiled as I went to him for a hug. He hugged me back and rubbed my back with his hand.

"You look tired, long trip Pete?" Dad turned to Pete for an answer.

"I managed just fine this time," he rummaged through the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice with pulp.

I looked out the glass patio doors to find myself staring at the beach. The sky was a cloudy gray that complimented the ocean.

"You know I've never liked the ocean," I laughed to myself as I just stared at it even more.

"We know," my dad replied to me.

Shortly after he handed me a plate with three pieces of French toast drizzled with syrup. I thanked him and sat next to Pete at the dinner table.

The sounds of silverware consumed the whole house.

"It's so quiet."

"You'll get used to it but if you ever do get fussed up about it just open those patio doors or blare our music on the stereo." Pete smiled at me.

"I'm going to miss that," I simply say and turn my attention back to eating.

I was going to miss my cosy warm home.