I walk up to the front door, fighting back memories of Karyn bubbling back up to the surface while staring at the tall, cloaked person who stepped to the side to allow me passage. I'm sorry, I think, quite out of nowhere. The hanging trinkets on the hood jingle like they're laughing, and I feel a sudden urge to get inside, away from this person, away from the memories. I hurry in, giving them one last furtive glance, and wince at the SLAM that shakes the house for a moment. "Shit..."
Mikey stares at me from the couch with a look of surprise, distaste and an unpleasant tinge of fear. "MOM! Natalie's home!" he yells, smirking at me. "You're in trouble..."
I just shake my head, looking around at the house as if I'd never seen it before; it certainly feels that way. I've stepped into unknown, hostile territory. This was Jon's home, not mine. The off-white wallpaper, spotless carpet, everything-in-its place, all of this used to comfort me... or, it used to comfort Jon. It only makes me feel unwelcome. Tears threaten to come again, but at the same time, I know they won't. I'm just too tired; all that comes is a single dry sob. To my right, Mikey's smug satisfaction slowly melts away into wary concern, but I don't care.
Mom comes down the stairs with Zoe about five seconds behind, hurrying over to me. Please go away, go away, yell at me all you want later but GO AWAY! My mind screams, but I can't find the energy to make it physical. "Natalie? Where were you last night?" Mom asks with the disapproving tone of someone who's only asking out of habit.
"Mom... I don't wanna talk about it. I "“ I just wanna sleep." Tears spring unbidden to my eyes, and like Mikey, her expression becomes concern; unlike Mikey, hers is pure.
"Oh, honey..." she murmurs, pulling me into a hug. "You know whatever's happened you can talk to me about it."
That's probably so far from the truth her nose is gonna grow through my skull, I think, but instead of saying some version of it, I melt into my mother's arms and cry. Some part of me thinks it's weak. Another more insistent and cynical part of me says she's just going to hurt me more later. But most of me is infinitely grateful to have someone who even seems to care, and it's this part that weeps like a newborn child.
I don't know how long I stood there, but when I pull away from her, my face, throat and chest ache, my eyes sting, and mom is so affected that I can just walk away, upstairs to my room. Not lying down so much as falling, I hug one of the many pillows to my head, falling asleep almost instantly. I'd only realize later that someone pushed me safely up onto the bed, pulled my forgotten purse off of my arm and set it on the dresser.
