Page 81 of The Best Kind of Forever
I didn’t even tell Lila I was leaving the state. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about the breakup. She would’ve spent the entire day consoling me, pampering me, unintentionally reminding me just how miserable I am. I don’t want to be pitied, and I know my father would chew his own arm off before showing me any kind of solace.
Now, as I step onto the porch, my stomach squirms with nerves, and this feeling of trepidation chokes me like a thick fog. I can’t turn back. I mean, I could, but that would require me sleeping in an airport and waiting twelve hours for the next flight out.
The door opens without me even having to knock, and my mother flings her arms around me, enveloping me in that signature vanilla scent of hers—the one that hasn’t changed since my childhood. She always smelt like safety and comfort, even when she didn’t offer it.
I don’t hug her all the way back, but I don’t recoil either. She’s lost a lot of weight since I last saw her, and I can feel her ribs poke me through the thin sweater hanging off her emaciated frame. Her face is sallow and wrinkled, her skin flaxen, and her beautiful head of brown hair has turned a fiery silver. The realization of how long I’ve been away from my parents hits me like a semitruck.
“Oh, Aeris,” she croons, her rheumy eyes whisking over me, a smile line dotting the corner of her mouth.
I paste on a saccharine grimace. “Hi, Mom.”
I don’t…hate…my mother. I did. I really did, and it took me a while to understand that she was just as much a victim as I was when it came to my father’s reign of power. I know my mother should have stood up for me and Roden. I know, but I also know that she needed help—that she wasn’t strong enough to leave my dad. There’s a part of me that regrets not being by her side, not helping her find the courage.
I’m one to talk. I had lower self-esteem than a girl in seventh grade before meeting Hayes. He helped me when I needed it, and I couldn’t even do the same for the woman who raised me. Or, I guess, shekindaraised me.
“Let me take your bag.” Elaine reaches for my small carry-on, even though it looks like it could break her back if she tried lifting it above her head.
I follow her into the house, and immediately, I yearn for the familiarity of my childhood home. My parents sold the house when Roden died, and with it went all my childhood memories. Believe it or not, there were some good ones in there. The memory of me falling down the stairs and breaking my tooth; the memory of me and my mom baking sugar cookies every Sunday; the memory of our family adopting our first dog, Curly Lu, from the shelter. All of it…gone.
The memory of finding Roden’s bo—
My mother’s voice cleaves through my thoughts. “We made up the guest room for you.”
The room is about the size of my living room, which isn’t bad at all considering my mother hasn’t been employed since my brother’s death. It’s spacious and a little neglected, judging by the layers of dust on every flat surface. The bed is upheld by spruce reinforcements, and there’s a checkered quilt draped over the foot of the mattress. A small nightstand sits to the side, adjacent to a lounge chair in the corner of the room. The ceiling is exposed, with spindle-wide beams, as a vintage fan with rust-stained blades sweeps through milky pastures of cobwebs. The floral-stamped curtains billow out from the decrepit window grill, matching the area rug over the hardwood floors.
“Uh, thanks, Mom.” I take my suitcase from her hands and set it on the bed.
My mother bumps her hip out, watching me carefully as I start to unpack some of my toiletries.
“I made casserole for dinner. It’s still hot. Do you want some?”
Food sounds great right now, especially since all I ate for lunch was a meager bag of airplane peanuts, but if I fall back into a sense of normalcy with them, I’m not going to be able to keep this trip objective. I’m not here to rebuild relationships or take happy trips down memory lane. I’m here because I have to know the logistics behind Hayes’ whole operation.
“I’m okay. Thanks, though,” I say, despite my empty stomach protesting.
Elaine, still as oblivious as ever, graces me with a smile that looks so much like my own. “Okay. We’ll save you a piece for tomorrow.”
And just like that, she’s gone from the doorway, as if she was never here to begin with—an apparition that only ever existed in my imagination.
I set aside my pajamas for the night, and then an inexplicable cold falls over the room, submerging me in an Ice Age’s worth of snow. The metronomic tick of my heart is the only constant reassuring me that I haven’t entered some kind of catatonic state.
“Aeris.”
My father’s powerful voice sounds from the doorway, grabbing my attention instantly, and I really hope he didn’t notice the way my shoulders jumped.
A gulp clicks its way down my throat. “Sperm donor.”
“Never thought you’d come to visit us,” he chuckles, though that forked tongue of his couldn’t be more incapable of humor.
I slough off the fear that’s no doubt etched into my features. “You know why I’m here,” I snap icily. “I’m not back for you. I’m only here for answers.”
“Of course you are. You’re my daughter. As much as you hate to admit it, we’re more alike than you think.”
My glare has enough venom in it to paralyze a full-grown man, and it’s a look reserved just for my father. “We arenothingalike.”
When my fists clench, I want to cringe from the sting of broken skin on my hands. Oh, God. I wish I could punch him right in the face. I probably would if I was strong enough or had any idea how to throw one.
“How did you know?”
