Him

My throat closed up at the thought of leaving. I knew the day was coming - even had a reminder set up on the fridge calendar - and yet, my heart was in turmoil. The labyrinth of my thoughts was interrupted by an incessant knocking on the white door in front of me.

“Jane, honey it’s time to go.”

My father’s voice, a bit muffled, carried a bit of impatience underlying his message. Wiping my face on my sleeve, I flushed the toilet, got out and washed my hands.

I took one last trip around my house before I said my goodbyes. My room, once freshly painted with pink and green pastel hues and a bed too big for me now stood with faint traces of the laughter that filled it. There was also a faint smell of bleach that stood out like a sore thumb, irritating my eyes. I quickly stepped away, already mourning the remnants of my childhood room. The condition of the kitchen was no different. It was bare of all the utensils and silly drawings taped to the fridge. All the paintings and decorations from the living room were stripped away, leaving something that only hinted at the liveliness and memories the room once contained. I could feel a sting behind my eyes threatening to make this the third time I let myself cry since this morning.

Taking a shaky breath, I walked down the narrow hallway to the front door where my father was waiting for me. He was looking back at the house too. I guess it must be a big change for him too, even if he didn’t show it. I took his hand and we both stepped out. He locked the door with the keys and the final click of the lock sealed my fate and changed it forever.

Dad, ever so calm and collected, was a tad bit wistful when we turned around the corner of our driveway and got on the road. I understood his dilemma and scooted over to him in the back seat and gently laid my head on his shoulder. His slightly trembling breaths calmed down and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, rubbing gently in a vertical motion as if rocking a baby to sleep; and I as the baby of the house, fell right into his safety net and drifted off.

“Honey, we’re here. Come on.”

I could hear his words as clear as if I were underwater. Rubbing my eyes open and yawning, I finally processed what dad said. With a reluctant nod in his direction, I got out and went to the back of the moving van to help. Thirty minutes of unloading boxes felt like thirty days taken off my life. After the job was done, I had turned to look at my new home and the sharp ache in my chest began to swell again and my breathing became more erratic.

Before I could properly panic, I felt a series of tiny jabs in my shoulder and came face to face with a young boy my age. He had dark brown eyes and a thick mop of ginger curls sitting on his head. He reminded me of Ron Weasly from Harry Potter. If Ron had a missing front tooth whenever he smiled but that was besides the point. I slowly focused back to whatever the boy was saying as he went on rambling in front of me.

“…so yeah, that’s why I’m not allowed to use the plunger anymore,” he said finishing what was a grand account of his week, or so thought.

“Pardon me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I get ahead of myself sometimes. Dad keeps telling me I shouldn’t keep talking without thinking twice but I keep forgetting. Hi, I’m Aaron.”

He extended his right arm to her and she hesitantly shook it.

“Hi Aaron, I’m Jane.”

“Are you moving in?”

“Yeah,” I fiddled with the tassels of my hoodie, looking apprehensively at him.

“Oh nice. I live right next door. The previous owners were really rude and loud. They used to send their dog over to our yard and it pooped all over. Never even said sorry. It was horrible.”

“Don’t worry, my dad and I don’t have pets and we’re not rude.”

He blinked twice before blurting out his response, “No. That’s not what I meant. What I was trying to say is that I’m so happy you guys are an obvious upgrade. Also, my mom wanted to invite you guys for dinner as a welcome thing.”

“Oh.” I was not expecting that. As if aligning with my train of thought, my stomach treacherously rumbled at that exact moment and I could feel an intense blood rush to my face out of shame. He looked at me and chuckled.

Could this day get any worse? I desperately needed the earth to open up and swallow me right now.

“If you’re hungry, I have some snacks I can share.”

If it was possible to be even more embarrassed, that’s me right now.

“No thanks,” I replied curtly and after reassuring him that we will come over for dinner, I took the last box from the moving van, entered the front door and slumped against it with a huge sigh.

“Honey, can you help here?” Dad’s voice boomed over downstairs from where he was arranging my bedroom items. I yelled out an affirmative and walked up to help him.

Dinner at Aaron’s was…for a lack of better words, I’d say eventful. When dad knocked at their door later that evening, Aaron’s mom, Suzy, opened it and welcomed us in with a blinding smile. His father, David, gave us a warm smile inside and gave my father a firm handshake with a side hug. The entire house smelt like it had drowned in sugar syrup and icing before being rescued. It filled me with warmth, reminding me of mom’s cookies every that she baked every Saturday.

Aaron came down the stairs, quite haphazardly to be honest, and greeted my father with a good-natured smile before turning to me. His pupils expanded and I could see his cheeks taking on a bright red color, seeping down to the collar of his pink shirt. Was I not dressed well? This was the only nice outfit I had unpacked before giving up on my suitcase. After a few seconds of silence, I nervously cleared my throat and he snapped out of his mild stupor.

“You look pretty,” he said, not meeting my eyes.

Oh?

Oh.

With a huge mental grin I smiled at him and wanted to compliment him too, taking a mental tally on what I could talk about. For starters, his hair which had unruly curls in the morning were set with some sort of gel and had an air of elegance around it. His shirt was the same shade of pink as my bedroom walls, a soft salmon pink. The blush that was on his face was slowly creeping back into his shirt and I felt happy that I caused that effect in the first place.

“Thanks. I like your shirt’s color. It’s my favorite and your hair looks good too.”

His face beamed and eyes narrowed as he smiled widely. He then ushered me and dad to the table and went to the kitchen to bring some of the dishes to us. Dinner passed by quietly with the occasional small talk by both our parents that I had tuned out halfway through. The food was just so good that I could not focus on anything else. His mom made the best lasagna I had ever tasted. The mushroom gravy was rich and creamy with an alluring ivory color and the mashed potatoes were cooked to perfection. All in all, I’d considered it a night well spent. At least I wasn’t in the new house. The thought of sleeping there tonight soured my mind.

After dinner Aaron and I took all the dishes and despite the adults’ insistence, took upon ourselves dish washing duty. Aaron broke the silence first.

“So what made you want to move here?”

Wow. Just stab me while you’re at it, won’t you?

“My mom passed away two months ago. Everyone says grief should be shared so as to not shoulder that burden upon yourself but no one was willing to listen. Everyone just looked so guilty when it happened and whenever I tried to talk about so I just didn’t until my dad noticed. He was no better than me but he could hide it so well. Eventually through the help of some connections, he got a job here and decided that we should start a new life because that’s what mom would have wanted.”

My throat felt constricted again and I refused to cry in front of a boy I met some hours ago. Aaron looked at me with an incomprehensible emotion on his face.

“Do you need a hug Jane?”

I whispered a tiny yes and he closed the distance between us. Burying my face in his shoulder, I wept. Wept for my mother, my previous life and everything I left behind. I don’t know how long I stood there crying but when my tears stopped flowing, I noticed Aaron’s hand rubbing my back like a startled cat and my breathing stabilized. I pulled away from him, embarrassed at how I had ruined his shirt and a good dinner with my crying. Great, now another friend who’s going to give me pity.

“Don’t feel weird. It’s good to let it all out. As much as I am a blabber, I’m a really good listener. If you ever need to vent, feel free to come yell at me. Want a cookie?”

I looked up to meet his eyes and saw nothing but calmness and understanding. Not guilt nor pity. It soothed me and I eagerly nodded to the prospect of having cookies. We quickly finished the dishes and I apologized for ruining his shirt when we went outside to eat the cookies.

“Oh, no worries. That was by far the worst thing that has happened to my clothes. Last year, a guy in line for food at the cafeteria vomited all over my new shoes. I wanted to incinerate them the second I got home.”

I couldn’t help myself from the snort that came out of me accompanying my laughter and I was spilling bits of cookie from my mouth. He laughed along with me, a delightful twinkle in his eyes.

“Thank you.”

He made a questioning sound at the back of his throat and looked at me.

“What for?”

“For making me feel happy and comfortable. It was a nice evening,” I said smiling at him.

“Thank you as well.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” It felt strange that I did something he had to thank me for.

“For being my friend and laughing with me. I liked the evening too. We should do this again sometime,” he said, looking at me with that same indescribable look on his face from the kitchen. My brain itched with the need to know what he was thinking of; before I could ask him, my dad was calling us back inside.

Leaving Aaron’s house, I realized something. He was the reason I smiled and laughed for the first time in two months. My heart was instantly greedy for more.