Page 173 of New Growth
“Yeah,” I said. “Just weird being back.”
He nodded and let it drop again.
We dropped our bags in the guest room—my old room, technically, though it barely looked like mine anymore. The posters were gone, the bedspread neutral now instead of that faded floral one I used to hide under. El took it all in, dropping his duffel at the foot of the bed.
He wandered toward the window, peeking out. “View’s not bad.”
I nodded, joining him. “You could see the whole backyard. That’s the peach tree Daddy planted the year Ryan was born, and that’s the famous orange tree.”
I could feel his eyes on me. “You wanna give me the tour?”
“Come on.”
We moved through the house slowly, like we were sneaking through something sacred. I showed him the den where Daddy used to fall asleep with the TV blaring, the kitchen where he and I once got into a screaming match over who stole the last piece of pie. El teased me about how my childhood was “shockingly calm for someone so chaotic.”
The mood shifted as we reached the top of the stairs. My footsteps slowed, and I stopped just outside a familiar door—Daddy’s room. My hand hovered near the knob like it might burn me.
El noticed the change immediately. He went still beside me, his voice low. “You okay?”
“I haven’t been in there since he died,” I said quietly. “Not once. I don't even think I can visit his grave.”
He didn’t say anything at first, just waited. His presence wasn’t pushy. He didn’t try to convince me or coddle me. He just stood there as I reached for the knob and pushed the door open.
The scent hit me first. Cedarwood, aftershave, and that clean, cottony smell. My breath caught in my throat.
The room was still like he’d just stepped out and would be back any second. His slipper's were still by the bed for Christ’s sake. I stepped inside, the hardwood creaking softly underfoot.
“You want a second?” El asked from behind me.
“Yeah.”
He gave me a quick squeeze on the shoulder and disappeared down the hall to wander on his own.
I closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, letting myselfbreathe.
“You wouldn’t believe what’s happening,” I whispered. “Ryan’s marrying Jonathan.”
Saying it out loud made it feel even more surreal.
My fingers curled around the hem of the bedspread, the one he’d always grumbled about being too damn scratchy but refused to replace. I buried my face in it.
“Then, the crazy fool wanted me to stand in the wedding! She’s lucky I’m even coming.”
I closed my eyes, “These people are tryna kill me.”
Inhale. Exhale.
“What are we gonna do with them, Daddy?”
Let people be people, Elliot.
I jerked, eyes flying open. The words were so clear, I swore they’d been spoken out loud. I swore I could feel the warmth of him beside me. I scanned the room and found it empty. I let out a breath, sharp and trembling, but the tears didn’t come. I thought I might, but I didn’t.
I just sat still until a soft knock pulled me out of my haze.
“Can I come in?” El’s voice drifted through the door.
“Yeah. Come in.”
