A Way Back Home | Adopted by Gerard Way (Book Two)

Numb (19)

Monday morning's incident never happened, based on the way Gerard is acting. He doesn't seem bothered at all.

Me? Not so much.

Something clicked in my head when I was standing there in the bathroom, just having yelled at him without a reason. And it wasn't a good kind of click. It was like a switch flipped in my brain, and the remaining hope I had that maybe everything could go back to normal drained out. Whatever "normal" may be.

The truth is, I've accepted the fact that my mother is going to come back into my life, one way or another.

It's infuriating how optimistic everyone around me is that, "There's no way we're gonna lose this fight!" and "You're a Way and that's how it's gonna stay!" I don't care how promising this lawyer is, or how many hours Gerard and Lindsey have already dedicated to making sure we have the most solid case possible

My hope has dissipated along with all my motivation.

Remember how I said I wanted to spend this semester procrastination free? Well, my back is currently against the hard floor of my bedroom, my eyes squeezed shut and headphones covering my ears as my homework taunts me from where it's sitting on my desk.

My phone is buzzing beside me, but I don't bother picking it up.

Numb.

It's the only word I can think to describe the way I'm feeling. The weight on my chest, the heaviness in my heart, the tears that just won't fall because I'm not sad enough to cry. For once, I feel like I could use a good cry, but I'm, well, numb.

The music blaring in my headphones does nothing to distract from this feeling— or lack of feeling. And it certainly does nothing to distract from the thought that seems to be looping in my mind like a mantra:

You just need to feel something.

"Evelyn? Jesus, how loud is your music?"

I pull my headphones off, the faint sound of David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust still audible. "Yeah, Dad?" I look up at his figure, looming over me from where I still lay on the floor.

"Dinner's ready," Gerard says. "I thought you were doing homework, but this doesn't look like homework."

"Oh, I was— uh— taking a break." I stand up off the floor, leaving my headphones and music player behind.

He walks over to my desk, sliding a paper over and trying to read it. "Écrivez une citation—" His pronunciations are way off. "Ah, nope, I give up. This is French. I don't blame you for wanting a break."

"You get it," I say. Only there's really nothing to get because, obviously, I can't have been taking a break if I hadn't even started. "What are we having?" I ask, as we make our way to the dinner table.

As soon as we get downstairs, I breathe in heavenly scent of whatever just came out of the oven. Lindsey answers for him. "I made lasagna." She smiles, holding out the pan proudly.

"That looks really good!" I comment, and the smile on her face grows even prouder.

When we've all taken our seats at the table and began eating, the regular dinner-time conversations begin.

"So, how was school?" Gee asks.

I shrug. "It was okay."

"Same as always?" he guesses.

"No, actually, Em didn't sit with me at lunch today," I say casually, grabbing the water pitcher and filling my glass.

"Why not?" Lindsey asks, knitting her eyebrows in concern.