You Can Go Home Again

Chapter 2

Waking up feels more like rising from the dead. After Stanton brought me in last night, we stayed up talking a little longer. Knowing I needed time before I could do any sharing about my life, Stanton caught me up on his. He finished undergrad at Tulane at the top of his class, and got accepted into their Law School, which he is now a year into. He totally loves it, and he definitely gets that from our father. His current boyfriend, Dave, has yet to be introduced to any family members because Stanton still hasn't told mom and dad he is gay. Normally, I would have said something about sticking up for himself and who he loves and whatnot, but my two years of running away from my own issues made me uncertified to pass judgment. Dave sounds great, and I told Stanton I want to meet him before I leave. He also talked about how Hope seems to be hiding a relationship from the family, but none of our other family members seem to realize this. I told him I also suspected that she had a secret someone, and we both decided we would crack her together.

In all of this talking, there was, of course, more drinking. Between the sugary multitude of drinks, very little food, and the emotional spillover, my head is pounding harder than ever. I sleep in just a t-shirt and underwear, so I throw on a pair of loose shorts before I go in pursuit of coffee. The magical aroma of the world's best beverage seems to be coming from the breakfast nook right off the kitchen. Dad and Hope are the only ones in here at the moment. Dad has his newspaper open and a half-eaten bagel on the plate in front of him. Hope has, what looks like, some work folders in front of her. Those two have always been the early birds, and Hope has always used these early quiet hours as bonus work time. Charlie comes sauntering in behind me, no doubt hoping I'll feed him table food again.

"Well, well, look who has become an early bird." Dad teases me while barely glancing up from his paper. I smile at him, and then pour myself some coffee. I put only a spoonful of honey in my coffee and stir. "Would you like some food?" Dad gestures to the spread of bagels and pastries on the center of the table.

"Not right now, thank you." I take a sip from my mug and let out a little sigh. "Coffee is as good as ever, Dad." He lifts his own mug in a gesture of cheers and takes a sip. I sit and sip while I look out the window across from me; our yard is fairly open and expansive, while bordering a small bayou surrounded by forest. Some squirrels are running around, almost as if in a choreographed dance. We have one magnolia tree in the backyard, but it is not yet in bloom. Memories fill my mind of Hope, Stanton and I running around out there without a care in the world; well maybe a few youthful cares, but none too daunting.

"Ah Rick, how were your sleeping arrangements?" I stiffen at his name, but I don't break my gaze from the window. Did I know he was staying here? I guess it makes sense due to how much he drank and his place being on the other side of town. Still, was it a one-time thing, or will he be here for the duration? Did he mention it last night and I just forgot?

"Very nice, thanks Tom." He takes the seat directly across from me, and I divert my eyes down to my half-empty mug. "Good morning Hope. Good morning Harper." Hope finally lifts her head from the spreadsheets in front her.

"Oh, good morning Rick. Harper, I didn't hear you come in." I laugh and shake my head at Hope.

"No, you were too far deep into the work zone." She sticks her tongue out at me, and I make a face back at her. Then she looks from Derrick to me, and abruptly shuts her work folders.

"So Rick, didn't you have Harper in one of your classes at school?" I can tell Hope is up to something, but I decide to feign ignorance.

"Yes, actually she was in two. I guess I was doing something right." We shoot brief glances at each other. I take an extremely long sip of my coffee trying to avoid this conversation. Thankfully, Dad is too engrossed in his paper to remember that other people are even at the table.