Page 232 of Steeling Her
“They always fight,” she says in a sorrowful tone as she turns herself to face where our mom left. Returning her attention to me, she continues, “He spends his time out in the garden all of the time. Either that or in the garage. He always spends time alone out there to get some peace. He barely sits in his chair anymore.” Ellie does her best to talk over them while they blatantly argue in the other room, thinking that we cannot hear them.
She points to the empty chair at the end of the long sofa. The dark-brown leather is cracked in many places, along with the armrests and headrest. The old recliner always looked like it’s on its last legs, but it never failed him even after all these years. My dad has had that chair since before I was born.
I reach across my sister to get my hand on the remote control. I switch the TV on and change the channel to something she might watch. I look back at her and see her smiling back at me but her eyes tell a different story. I hand her the remote and say, “Stay here okay?” I stand up to my full height and lean over to kiss the top of her head. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her.
“That’s what you told me five years ago.” Hearing her voice get sadder breaks my heart even more.
“I know, but I will keep my promise this time.” I offer her a weak smile and reassuring words, but I need to back it up with my actions too.
I make my way towards the hushed voices in the kitchen. As soon as I enter, they both look at me. My footsteps echoes once it becomes silent.
I smile softly at my mother and she beams with joy just like she did when I arrived.
Then I finally looked at my father once more. He was between the garden and the kitchen, just on the threshold of the inside of the house where the sliding door is at, one foot in and the other foot out.
Right in the eyes, I could see him clearly. He still has that darkness in his eyes. This is the third time I’ve ever seen this darkness before. One, when he invited himself to practice and gripped his hand around my neck. Two, when I punched him in this very kitchen for making me naively choose between the two things that I loved most. Three, right now, as I look at him like he’s ready to run away from me.
He always had bright eyes paired with a smile.
“I was thinking of sticking around for a few days, if that’s alright with you?” I begin.
“Oh, absolutely sweetheart, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. I’ll set up your room for you. Come.” She beckons me to follow her out of the kitchen and up the stairs to where my old room is. She links her arm with mine and pulls me down the hallways I haven’t seen for many years. “I’ll be making your favorite tonight because of your wonderful surprise. I’m so happy you’re home, Nicholas!” She squeezes my bicep with one hand.
“It’s good to see you, too, Mom.” I kiss her head.
“I’ve changed your room a little, just in case you were to ever come back home for a little while; just minor changes. I got you a bigger bed and took down those god-awful posters you had up here. I just couldn’t look at them any longer.” She opens up my door and I see she had not made minor adjustments to my room, she had mademajoradjustments. It looks like a completely different room.
“Minor adjustments? Mom, you obliterated the entire thing. There’s nothing in here that I can recognize!” I laugh at her attempt—a poor attempt mind you—at hiding the fact that she has slashed my room and revamped it to suit her style. It’s a nice room, though, just not the same.
“You couldn’t tell the difference, sweetie.” She walks further into the room.
“Alright, name one thing that is still the same,” I quiz her while folding my arms.
She looks around the room for a short while and points at the bedside locker “I kept this the same as your old room, remember?” she points out. I couldn’t help but laugh at my own mother.I’ll give her props for trying.
“That’s it?” I question her.
“I couldn’t look at the mess, Nicholas. You moved out, but I always wanted you to come back home and have a nice place to sleep at night. You know, in case you brought someone home . . . or something . . .” She shrugs as she fixes the bed sheet so it’s laying flatter than it was originally. Sitting herself on the side of it, she pats the space next to her for me to join. The light blue duvet cover is silk-soft to touch.
“Well, it looks good, Mom. Thanks.” I sit beside her and take my new surrounding in.
I know that this was her comfort project. If she kept herself preoccupied, she wouldn’t remember that I haven’t been home since getting drafted. It’s was almost like her coping mechanism. I can see it every time she fixes something. She wants it perfect for me so I have a reason to come home. She wants everything in its place so that I feel comfortable.
“No problem, sweetheart. I loved doing it. If you need an interior designer for your new home in LA, just pick up the phone. Or just to talk, I’m always here for you.” I could see her two eyes brewing with tears. She waves her hand in front of me and scoffs at herself. “Gosh, I’m sorry. You must think I’m ridiculous.” She chuckles to hide how much she’s missed me being back and how much I’ve really hurt her by staying away from home.
“I never wanted to hurt you, Mom. I just couldn’t come back here. I’m sorry, I never wanted to make you upset. It’s not your fault, I miss you every single day—”
“I know, Nicholas, I know. I’m just glad you’re back now. I’m so glad to see you back home.” She squeezes both my cheeks as I see a single tear drop from her eye. I never wanted to make my mother cry, not in a million years. Whether it be happy or sad tears, I never wanted that.
I freak out when anyone cries, I don’t know what to do. So, I just hug her once again.
We stay in my room and catch up while she unpacks my clothes from my bag. She insisted on doing it; I think she only wanted to do it for more comfort. I’m ashamed that I have driven her to this.
Hours later, I find myself sitting in my old place at the dinner table. My dad has chosen to eat in the garden. I can see the pain and sorrow in my mother’s eyes as she checks on him every once in a while. He’s purposely excluding himself, and it’s not down to me. It looks like he’s done this on a daily basis. It’s not only hurting him, but it’s hurting my mom and sister.
It’s unfair for Ellie to see her father like this. Haley and I always had him sitting with us when we were growing up. He always made a huge deal out of sitting at the table while my mom always made a huge deal out of manners, whether it be in general or at the table. She’s ingrained it into us all. Looks like Ellie is no exception, but my father is showing bad table manners by not sitting with us while we eat as a family. He chooses to be alone.
“How’s school?” I ask my sister.
