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♡
Okay. So Mrs. Kavinsky sees Peter too. No big deal. No big deal at all. Okay. This is fine. If anything this should feel easier. But why doesn't it? I thought as I scrubbed the bathroom floor with Clorox.
"I thought you said only I could see you," I whispered to Peter downstairs, after he tucked his mom into bed. They had spoken awhile as I finished tidying up the bathroom, and flushing the rest of the pills down the toilet.
"Because that's just what I thought," he tilted his head. "I mean, I did come here sometimes to just watch her. But I never knew she was watching me back. I was just thinking she was lost in thought." Peter explained, scratching the back of his head.
I nodded slowly. "Is that where you went earlier? Here? When you just decided to leave at the beach?"
He shook his head. "No. I didn't come here. I mean, I'd drop in a few times, sure. Or go to one of Owen's friend's houses, where he's been staying at all the time lately. Just so I can see him, ya know? But most of the time, it's like, I just leave with no destination in mind."
"So where do you usually end up?"
"I have no idea." His skin was glowing again and his eyes were glassy. "I'm still here, just not... here. It'll be this place that's like, super quiet. But then somehow I always know when I need to return. It's weird, I know. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry for putting you through this, Kizzy."
He looked up the stairs before taking a breath. "Thank you."
I subconsciously felt the envelope in the pocket of my hoodie. "For what?"
He laughed and my entire world sort of shook. "For being here, helping my mom out. I never even really thought about how much this was affecting her, ya know? You were the only one here at the perfect time. So... thanks."
He bent down some inches to kiss me on the forehead and my body jolted at his touch.
"Well, she's better now." I sighed, secretly wishing his lips stayed on my forehead a while longer. "And you totally owe me your life." I winked up at him.
Peter bit back a smile and lowered his head nodding, hands dug into his pockets. "Right."
The front door creaked open suddenly and in came Peter's father. I sensed Peter stiffen, even as his dad swayed past him and greeted me.
"Kizlyn? Jesus, do you know what time it is?" He slurred, looking down at an imaginary watch on his left wrist.
The sharp aroma of alcohol and cigarettes shoved it's way inside my nose. Peter instinctly made himself taller by standing straighter as he observed his father.
"Um, your wife was umm... she, she wasn't feeling good." I replied.
Mr. Kavinsky scoffed, shaking his head. "She never feels good anymore. It's always about her now."
