Page 133 of Secondhand Smoke
How could he . . .
She had a rare moment of clarity. Like a fog that had been clouding her mind cleared enough for her to see a road, and she saw him.
Saw the honesty in him, the care, the love, and thepain—all things she had caused.
Nell dropped her hands, fell into him, and cried.
52 - Nell
Christmas music from the old vinyl echoed through the house, sliding through the crack under Nell’s bedroom door.
Two weeks since she’d returned, and slowly it’d become less agonizing.
Her parents had swept through every inch of her room and somehow managed to find everything she’d hidden. The only things they left behind were the shoe boxes under her bed when they’d read the names written on them.
She spent hours the first couple of days shaking in her mother’s arms, screaming and begging for her to help her.
She stopped feeling so physically miserable a few days later. Mentally, however, she was eroded.
It wasn’t easy to wake up, join her parents for breakfast every morning, and sit through normal conversation. It was difficult not to plan ways she could find where her parents had hidden her drugs, or where her dad now hid his alcohol, and even harder to do it with her parents constantly over her shoulder.
They involved her in everything they did, putting their foot down on “wasting away alone in her bedroom”.
She’d begrudgingly accepted it and tagged along every time her mother went grocery shopping, or to send mail to family members or the hair salon. She even quietly slipped away at one point in a store to find gifts for her parents when she realized Christmas was in a few days.
So that was where she was now: sitting on her bedroom floor, poorly wrapping their gifts to add to the exorbitant amount already under the tree.
A knock on her bedroom door startled her. “Sweetheart, you ready to open your gifts?” her mother asked.
“Coming!” Nell hastily stuck the last piece of tape and stacked the gifts up, balancing them in her arms to carry.
Her mother’s eyes widened when she saw the plaid wrapping paper covering two gifts. “What are these?”
“Gifts for you and Dad.”
Her mother’s mouth fell open, taking in the sight, and after a few seconds, Nell noticed the watery lines growing along the bottom rim of her eyes. Her mom turned away, wiping discreetly and walking toward the living room. “Your father is waiting.”
Just like every year before, her dad sat next to the tree on the ground, organizing gifts into three respective piles. Nell’s was bigger, just like always.
Her parents’ eyes burned into her as she placed her gifts onto their respective piles, then took her place on the couch.
She couldn’t imagine what they’d gotten her. She’d lacked enthusiasm for the holiday this year, not even offering up a list of what she wanted, yet there had to be at least fifteen perfectly wrapped gifts in front of her.
Her expectations were low, her excitement even lower.
They started, and Nell began opening. One by one.
She was surprised when she saw the first gift she picked up: a simple black journal and a pack of pencils. Nell had never been much of a writer. The last time she’d written much down was in school. But her parents smiled eagerly as she observed it.
“I know you don’t like to talk to us much, but we figured you’d like to get your thoughts out some way. You can write down whatever you want in there!” Her mom grinned, waiting for Nell’s reaction.
Nell looked back at the journal, considering what her mother had said.
Nell did tend to keep everything locked in her head. She wouldn’t get caught dead telling her parents her thoughts, but right now, she didn’t have anyone else to tell either. Barrett had been where she deposited all her thoughts and secrets, until she’d started keeping them from him too.
She blinked, and the journal suddenly looked different. Not just blank pages bound in black leather, but an invitation to escape in a way she had yet to try.
Something brightened in her head, clearing some strange murkiness.
