Rayston Point Road || Editing

Chapter Eleven

It poured for two days straight, leaving Leighton and I stranded indoors, neither of us willing to fight the torrential downpours to get the boys into the car and out of the house, only to another indoor location where we'd be subject to the judgement of others if the boys started to throw a tantrum, which they both seemed eager to do lately with the combination of new teeth coming in and a bout of spring allergies that made their noses run and their throats raw from coughing.

We resigned ourselves to occupying them in the confines of the living room, where every defense against their cries was ready at our disposal, throwing ourselves into playing with the dozens of toys, reading through most of their library, and succumbing to the hypnosis of the TV, talking over the boys coos and squeals as we somehow found dozens of news stories to tell about each other, or our sisters, from the last time we had seen each other over the holidays, despite our frequent texts back and forth with the Lyla and Lena.

Even greater were the few moments of relief we found during the day when the boys were napping or when Dan returned from work and occupied the boys for a while. During these moments, we either escaped to the front porch to talk while the rain fell, or continued our conversation, most of which consisted of Leighton talking while I listened, my own life a less than idea topic of conversation, while we cooked dinner, a skill that we had both thankfully started to learn while we were young, thanks to Rose, our chef. She was the only help in our home who was consistent throughout the years, someone who had been more like a mother to me than my own mother, and who was the only one who could convince me to stay home, but only if my mother wasn't home to bother us, and admittedly part of the reason I had chosen to stay in New York for college, because despite growing out of the desire to spend hours with her experimenting in the kitchen, I still wanted to be close to her. When Rose finally left us earlier last year, my mother dismissing her with barely a few words just before I left for college, I felt the loss of another human in my life for the first time since my dad had walked out.

I hadn't realized it at the time, but that seemed to be the start of my spiral, as my mother and Leighton so bluntly described it, the whole reason I had resigned myself to becoming a companion to two toddlers for the summer.

Despite the rain, the two days were busy and went by fast, but still not enough to keep me sane under Leighton's watchful eye and the dozens of comments and questions she was just dying to ask me, but somehow managed to keep to herself for once, and still not enough to make me unaware of the fact that Isaac hadn't called me. I found myself checking my phone constantly, scrolling past other notifications in search of his name, but for two full days, nothing from him made its way into my text messages or missed calls. If Leighton noticed my obsessively checking my phone, she either chalked it up to me trying to stay up to date with my friends from home going on with their summers in the way we used to, or she just decided to bit her tongue and not question who I was waiting to hear from. My guess eventually turned towards the latter, as I noticed her gaze start to linger on me every time I picked up my phone and then dropped it down next to me seconds later, most of the time unconsciously dropped my shoulders or biting onto my lower lip in disappointment.

It wasn't until the third day that my phone started to ring, and I almost didn't even catch the incoming call in time. I had woken up to find the house empty, and a note from Leighton taped to the fridge that she had taken the boys with her to run some errands and that she would be out for at least a few hours. I knew Dan had to work, so I wasn't surprised at his absence. I had taken the opportunity to dig out the small tin box I had buried in one of my bags, a quality stash I had made sure to procure before leaving my supplies, unsure of what kind of quality weed I'd be able to score down here, if any, and smoked for the first time in days, a desperate relief I had been aching for. After taking a long shower, the steam from which seeped deep into my bedroom, and making sure any evidence of my activities were well hidden and disposed of for when Dan returned, I made myself a home on the couch with a bowl of cereal and some fruit and the trashiest show I could find on TV.