Page 92 of Rare Blend
I offer him a brief, strained smirk. “I’m fine. I’d be even better if you moved.”
His jaw tightens, lips drawing into a thin line as he stares at me for a few beats before stepping aside.
“You don’t have to act tough around me. If you’re upset about it, then be upset. Let it out.”
My spine stiffens, annoyance working its way through me. “I really wish you’d drop it.”
“I would if you weren’t acting like a fucking mannequin.”
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I bite. And then take a breath, trying to reel in my irritation. “Thank you for the soup and the medicine, but I’d like you to leave. I just want to be alone.”
He nods, shoulders dropped and resigned, before quietly walking out. It’s not until I hear the click of the door that my lip starts to tremble.
It’s silly.
Stupid, honestly.
I don’t even like Thanksgiving. The food is bland and boring.
I step into the shower, my skin rising with goosebumps even as the hot water pours over me. My body is vibrating, shaking to the point that I feel like I’m swaying back and forth. It must be the flu, I’m probably still running a low grade fever. Aloud choking noise blares over the sound of the water beating down on the tiles and I jump back slightly, trying to identify the source. It happens again, and I realize it’s me. I’m the one choking.
Gasping.
My vision blurs under the fall of water. My chest heaves, shoulders dropping as the tension in my neck snaps like a rubber band. I break down, tears streaming heavily and mixing with the hot water.
My mom isn’t coming.
Maybe I shampoo my hair, I’m not sure.
My mom isn’t coming.
Maybe I wash my body, I’m not sure.
My mom isn’t coming.
I let my skin turn wrinkled and pruny, standing under the water until it runs cold and forces me out.
As I’m wrapping the tie of my robe around my waist and knotting it, there’s a knock on the front door.
It’s probably Ethan coming to check on me.
I answer the door, ready to explain myself.
Except it’s not Ethan.
“Dad?” I freeze for a second and then push the collar of my fluffy robe against my neck. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?” he asks, already walking in.
I let the door fall open wider as he walks through and into the living room.
“What’s going on?” Normally my dad would text or call before popping by. He’s not really a random drop in kind of person.
“I ran into Ethan a few minutes ago.” He takes a seat on the couch. “He told me about your mom.”
Instead of answering, I stay quiet and close the door, keeping my head down.
“I’m sorry, sweets. I wish there was something I could do to change the situation.”
