Mirage - Alice Tribue Page 0,81
I know it’s a house filled with love because it’s the kind of house I was lucky enough to have once my dad came for me. The driver hands me my bags when I get out of the car. When he pulls away, I’m tempted to run after the car.
Now what, I ask myself, looking around. Do I knock on the front door or try to find his window and throw pebbles? Yeah, that’s real fucking realistic, Victoria. I could always sit on the front porch and wait for signs of life. I don’t contemplate for long because the front door creaks open and out walks Jennifer, donning a pair of pink pajamas and an awful case of bedhead.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Of all the people to answer the door, it had to be you?”
“Just go back to New York, no one wants you here.”
“I’m not leaving this house without seeing Nathan. I don’t care if I have to tackle you to get in the house or scream bloody murder; I will wake up the whole goddamn neighborhood if I have to.”
“I’m calling the cops.”
“Good. Do that, they’re going to have to take me out of here in handcuffs, but I promise you, I’ll see him before that ever happens.”
“He might not even want to see you, you know.”
“I don’t care.” I shrug my shoulders, and I don’t. He barged in on me countless times when I didn’t want to see him and that never stopped him. Now it’s time for Nathan to get a taste of his own medicine.
“You’re so not good enough for him.” She shakes her head in disapproval.
“You really hate me, don’t you?”
“Hate is a strong word.”
I nod my head because I can’t say that she doesn’t have a reason to feel this way toward me.
“I don’t blame you. I let my anger, and my fears, get the best of me. Instead of processing what happened and being grateful for what he did for me, I turned my back on him.”
She may not be my favorite person right now, but I can honestly say that I respect her devotion to her family.
Jennifer breaks my train of thought. “Come on,” she says, finally allowing me in and I follow behind her as she opens the front door. Inside, the house looks professionally staged; minimal furniture, beautiful décor, and classic window treatments. It feels like a home anyone would want to live in…Hell, I want to live here, and that says a lot, seeing as I’ve spent so much of my life living in the city.
“Up the stairs, last door on the right.” I look at Jennifer who’s grinning now. She’s enjoying this a little too much. With an eye roll and a deep breath, I take the first few steps.
“Victoria?”
“Yeah?”
“Walk fast, the floorboards creak.”
I really hate her, I think to myself as I finish my ascent. When I reach the top, I throw my bag over my shoulder, and as quietly as I can, I tiptoe down the hall. As I reach Nathan’s door, I wonder how he’ll react to seeing me. I wonder if he’s really okay, or if he’ll want to see me.
I slip inside, trying my hardest not to make noise when I close the door, and breathe a sigh of relief when it clicks shut. The sight of a sleeping Nathan changes something inside of me. I walk closer to the bed and watch as his chest rises and falls, as he inhales and exhales, and I’m so grateful that he can still do that, that he didn’t die. That my actions didn’t lead to him no longer being here.
There’s no good way to handle this. I’m not sure what I should do or if I should even wake him up. I kick off my shoes and shrug out of my jacket; with an unsure sigh, I crawl into bed with him. Just for a minute, I need to feel his breath on me. I need to remember what it felt like to be near him. I rest my head against his chest and listen to the sound of his steady heartbeat. Life is fragile—growing up without a mother, I knew that—but maybe over the years and after all the walls that I put up, I just forgot. It isn’t until a tear hits his chest that I realize that I’m crying. I have so much I want to say, and I’m painfully aware that he might not want to listen.