Over the Wall: A Collection of Short Stories (NaNoWriMo 2014)

Day 23: Ten Years Away

Note: This is a very long one but it makes me happy since how I don't have to write tomorrow (but I still will) and that's really good! Hope you like it, I know it's in desperate need of editing. Oh and this is dedicated to Floating-pickle since her critiques of days one and two were a huge help :)

        His ten years of being totally irresponsible were over. When he had received the call he had been in Rome. Rome was his favorite place to hide. But yet they had found him. He was still deciding whether or not he was happy they had found him.

        The driver turned the corner onto the private driveway. Colton squirmed as the house came into view. Immediately after, he cursed himself, he was too old to me intimidated by this house. He was mature now, grown up. They had no right to intimidate him. They were not able to intimidate him. Were they?

The car stopped in front of the house and Colton didn’t move. He waited for something to happen, for someone to come outside and welcome him, for one of his angry relatives to throw something at the car, for a gardener to come around from the back and work on the yard, something. Nothing happened. Maybe they had forgotten about him.

That was wishful thinking. As soon as he exited the car and the driver went to fetch his bags, the front door opened. It was his sister, Brenda. Fantastic.

He kept his head low as he grabbed his bag, tipped the driver, and made his way up the steps, counting him as he went. There were no fewer than fourteen. This was not the first time he had counted the steps instead of looking at one of his relatives.

When he reached the top he turned away from his sister and studied the house and the yard. It was no less grand than when he had left it. The grass was still perfectly manicured, the white steps were still spotless, the large windows that were in the living room and study, respectively, were still without a smudge.

The only thing that had changed was the color of the house, from white to yellow. That did not surprise him. His mother had always hated the white but his father had never let her change it, his father’s late mother had picked it out.

Colton wondered if his mother had repainted the house before or after his father died. Maybe when he was sick and was unable to notice. He figured anything was possible.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Brenda said, with her arms crossed over her chest.

Colton turned to look at her, noticing that she had styled her hair into that poofed football helmet look all the women at the club seemed to have. It made her look forty instead of thirty five. He resisted the urge to point that out. He would wait until she reminded him how much of a disappointment he was. She was sure to say it eventually.

He smiled at her. “Hey sis, how’s it going?” She glared at him but he kept a smile on his face just to annoy her.

“My father just died, how do you think it’s going.” She had also adopted the stare down all the women at the club had. It worked wonderfully with her hair. Colton stopped smiling.

“He was my father too.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Well I’m sorry I’m not falling apart over the death of a man who hated me.” Colton said.

“Like you didn’t hate him back.” She said.

“Like you didn’t hate him either.”

“I never hated him.”

“That’s right, but he never seemed to like you. He always seemed to like Lou better,” Colton said. “Why was that? Maybe because you were supposed to be a boy not a girl?” Brenda narrowed her eyes.