Page 18 of Into the Mountains
“Why not?” She rolls her eyes and for a moment I think she might stomp on my foot. I actually think she would if my family wouldn’t be here to witness her do it. I let a slow grin spread across my face, loving that this is bothering her.
“Awwww, look Jacob, they’re matching,” Sky’s voice comes from the kitchen, a cup of coffee wrapped between her hands.
“Oh, that’s adorable,” Hudson pipes up, like he’s cooing at a newborn baby.
“We won’t be much longer when he changes,” Charlotte insists, pointing a thumb in my direction. She makes her way to the coffee machine, claiming a mug of her own and filling it almost to the top.
“I told you I can’t. All my clothes are packed up as of thirty minutes ago. Unless you want to go through my boxes of clothes and dig out a sweater, you’re stuck matching with me.”
She snarls at me and I can practically hear her groan.
“Hey, what’s a six letter word that finishes the phrase, enemies to—”
“Really, honey?”
“What? I don’t even understand what that means,” George defends himself.
“No ide—” I start to say, but Charlotte interrupts.
“Lovers.”
Everyone’s eyebrows perk up, but she is unfazed as always and just sips her coffee. “What? Don’t you all read books? You know? Enemies to lovers? The main characters hate each other at the beginning of the book and throughout the story? They go on some big adventure, continue to hate and tease each other only to eventually fall in love and then live happily ever after?”
Silence stretches like taffy, slow and steady, until Sky breaks it. “I prefer friends to lovers,” she says, throwing Jacob a look that I really don’t want to know the meaning behind.
“Alright.” I clap my hands together, breaking the tension, but also bringing the attention onto myself. “We don’t have that much stuff to move and we might actually get it all in the U-Haul. Everything is packed and in boxes besides the coffee stuff.”
“I’ll wash it and put it away in a box,” Isabelle volunteers. I nod at her in thanks.
“I’ll get started on the other kitchen boxes.” George stands, pocketing his crossword and pencil and grabs the nearest box labeled plates.
Hudson and Jacob discuss the best way to get the couch out of the door while Sky and Avery follow Ethan to his room. Charlotte is standing at the kitchen island, leaning down on it, concentrating on the drink in front of her. Her hair is pulled back today in a low ponytail, strands coming loose at the front.
Blinders on, I pass her on the way to my bedroom to start grabbing boxes from there. I have a task to focus on, something to take me away from the fact that an ex I never thought I’d seeagain is standing in my kitchen. There’s an eerie strangeness in the house now. One I want to get away from.
By the time I’m done with the boxes in the bedroom, everyone is busy in other areas of the house. The living room is packed up and the floors are bare. The kitchen is free of the boxes that were stacked near the door and the small house is starting to feel a bit bigger, an echo present now that the furniture is gone.
“There’s still one more box in the coat closet, Dad!” Ethan calls excitedly as he walks by me with another box that seems too heavy for his size. Hudson sees it too, because as soon as he makes it to the stairs, he takes the box from him and carries it the rest of the way to the trailer, playing the ever so present game of Tetris that shows up when there’s a big move.
With the melody of truck beds closing, and feet shuffling in the grass and thumping on the porch, I make my way to see the box that was left behind in the coat closet to grab what seems to be the last box. Ethan may be right because looking around all I see are bare floors and clear counter space.
The box he was talking about is one that’s on the top shelf, but it’s sticking out just enough for him to see it. I’m still surprised he noticed it, however, I’m not going to be surprised by its contents. I know exactly what’s in it.
I remember going through the house a year or so after Sarah died and finally cleaning out her things. I donated some of her clothes, the ones Isabelle and Sky didn’t want, which was most of them. But there were a few items I couldn’t part with and I didn’t feel like I had to if I didn’t want to. So I stored them away in a safe place—some of the heartache trapped along with it.
My fingers brush the edges of the box as I try to nudge it down. I’m almost six foot, but when I stored this up here, I had to use a step stool. It’s already packed and I’m pushing my luck, stretching above my head as much as I can. My pride won’t letme ask for help though. Not with this. I want to do this on my own. I think I need to.
I almost get a grip on the box, but I can feel myself start to lose my balance. The box is off the shelf just enough to tip toward me before I can adjust my hands and I fall back into the wall behind me. The box and all its contents crashes to the ground and I hear a shatter from inside. The box or my chest, I’m not sure which.
Small footsteps come running in and suddenly I feel like crying. The one thing I could have kept for him, kept safe and I couldn’t even do that right.
“Dad, are you okay? We heard a crash.” His voice softens when he sees me sitting on the floor, my back pressed against the wall of the hallway, my attempt at holding back tears failing.
“You know, Ethan, I’m not so sure if I am.” I think it’s the first time I’ve been fully honest with him about how I feel. It’s always “I’m fine”, or “of course I’m okay.” I’m always okay.
I’m always okay.
Right now though, I’m not okay. And for once, I don’t feel like lying to him. He’s old enough to know and maybe it’ll help him too.
