Stay

22

EVIE 

There’s an overpowering smell of bacon that lingers around the kitchen. Dirty dishes fill the kitchen sink, while empty glasses of orange juice and coffee remain stationed at the table. I lean back against the wooden chair, my eyes falling shut as a content sigh hums from my lips. 

“That was good dad,” I compliment, rubbing my hands over my bloated stomach. “Your omelettes are the best in the west coast. Hands down.” 

He releases a chuckle, his own eyes shut with a smile of contentment plastered across his lips. “You’re too kind,” he says, shaking his head no. “I’m sure you’ve had better.”

“Nope. Niall made me some for my birthday and they weren’t as tasty as these,” I reply, smiling at the memory. That day definitely made it on the list for best birthdays. I didn’t think it was possible to top an all day outing with Estelle Jones, but it looked like it was. Niall really did deserve a gold medal. 

“Who’s Niall?” Dad asks, one eye popping open while his forehead furrows. 

“What?” 

“You said Niall made you omelettes for your birthday,” he chuckles. “You’ve never mentioned him before. Friend of yours?” 

I hadn’t even realized that I had let his name slip out. Dad and I were pretty open with one another, just like I was with mom. Our bond wasn’t as similar to mine with my mother, but it was still pretty close. He knew of most of the people I had in my life - boys included. I figured I had told him before about Niall, figuring that he and I had been neighbours for so long. I guess I didn’t. 

“Yeah, he’s a friend. He lives across the hall actually,” I explain. “I think you’d like him. He’s a major music junkie. He’s very big on classic rock,” I add quickly. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“He has this vintage record player and a ton of old records. Led Zeppelin, Clapton, Rolling Stones...” 

“Sounds like he has good taste.”

“Definitely,” I agree. Dad gives me a small nod in which he pairs it with a hum of distinct approval. 

“Are we going to meet this neighbour of yours anytime soon?” 

There are very few times in my life when I don’t know what to say... especially to my own father. For some unknown reason, his question stumped me. Why would he want to meet Niall? When, in any circumstance that we would both be in, would it be slightly appropriate for my father to meet Niall? 

“Uh, I don’t know,” I answer lamely. Once again, he gives me a small nod, his eyes still trained on whatever article he was reading. 

I sit up in my chair, feeling my stomach grumble in dissatisfaction. I had eaten too much this morning, which wasn’t out of the ordinary considering I usually was one to binge eat. However, this morning my stomach wasn’t enjoying the crazy amounts of breakfast foods I downed. It’s constant screaming was indication of that. 

“Dad, I’m going to go up to my room for a bit,” I say, standing up from the table. “Did mom say when she’d be back?

Dad glances up from his newspaper, his black framed glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. He pushes it up slowly, his grey eyes squinting slightly. “M’no. She didn’t,” he replies. “Sorry sweetie.”

“That’s fine.” I walk over to where he sits, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

I walk up the familiar stairs of my childhood home. It had been a lazy Sunday morning. Waking up a few minutes past eleven this morning felt almost too incredible. Sure I had my tendencies of sleeping in, but last night’s rest felt different. Restful... peaceful even with the comfort and familiarity of my worn out sheets and warm duvet.