I wasn't sure what this would be like. Everything seems so surreal. Like I'm watching from afar instead of sitting in the passenger seat of a rental car. We pull onto the familiar streets. We pass the old playground and a million memories flood my mind. Thousands of games of tag and kick the can. And hiding in the tunnel slide in fifth grade gossiping with my best friends about who liked who that week. Life was so much simpler then.
"Turn here," I instruct. Even to myself, my voice sounds hollow and mechanical. Bright does and we turn onto the road in front of Lakeville High School. Memories from my first two years of high school stir. Many of them are the same. People who I don't know, who don't even know me, whispering and suddenly stopping when I came into the room or around the corner. Part of me always wanted to tell them not to bother, I knew what they were whispering about. It was always about my father.
We're not more than five minutes from home now. I haven't been there in two and a half years. I haven't been able to go back. I know it sounds selfish of me, but I got a taste of normal life and I wanted it to last forever. And that would never happen if I went home. I love my family, I really do. I kept in contact with them through letters and phone calls, but I couldn't bring myself to go home.
Before I know it, I'm pointing out my house to Bright and he's pulling into the driveway. He turns off the car but doesn't move to unbuckle his seatbelt, unconsciously telling me that the next move was mine and he'd wait as long as it took for me to make it.
"Whenever's cool," he says before he grasps my hand in his and gives it a reassuring squeeze. I nod slightly. My thanks. I'm too focused on how I got here to actually speak.
Nina told me that my mom wanted me to come home for Thanksgiving. I really didn't want to at first. I wasn't ready to give up that normal feeling just yet. So that's what I told Nina. Two days later there was a plane ticket to Minnesota on my pillow with a note attached. "Just in case" it read. I still didn't know if I was going or not. Bright was the one to convince me to do it. I'm not entirely sure how he did it. That was when I told him about my dad. Before then Amy was the only person to know. The next thing I knew he and I were on a plane and I was headed home. It was comforting to know that I didn't have to do it alone.
I take a deep breath. I can do this. I slowly unbuckle and Bright follows my lead. He walks half a step behind me to the house. I'm not sure if it's to stop me from bolting or to catch me if he needs to. Either way, I'm glad he's there. His hand finds mine again.
I hesitate whether or not I should ring the doorbell. I eventually settle for walking in. The minute the door opens I'm bombarded with the smell of turkey. I couldn't remember the last time my mom had cooked Thanksgiving dinner. Usually for Thanksgiving it was take out or if I was lucky I'd be invited to a friend's house.
"Hello," I call out timidly.
"Hannah!" My mom almost screeches with excitement. And before I know it she's hugging me. "And you must be Bright. Hannah's told me so much about you." They shake hands though I can tell my mother wants to hug him as well. She hugs everybody. Right now I'm content to fool myself that this day is real, that it's normal. But deep down I know it's all an act. I know that tomorrow everything will go back to being the way it's been ever since my dad got sick. But at least for one day it's nice to pretend.
"Hey there, little sister," Brent says from the top of the stairs. I know I must be grinning like an idiot, but I don't care. My older brother and I are finally in the same room at the same time. The last time that happened was Christmas my senior year. He and his girlfriend flew down to Everwood for a week. It's now that I realize how much I really missed him and I know that when I leave, e-mails and the occasional long distance phone call are not going to be enough anymore.
"Hi." I throw myself into a hug. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you too."
"How's Darcy?" I ask. She's his girlfriend and if he has his way, she'll be his fiancée by Christmas Eve. I think I'm the only one Brent's told about it. I think he's afraid he might jinx himself or something.
"She's good. She says to tell you hi."
"So she's not coming then?" I'll admit it. I'm slightly disappointed. I like her.
"She's at her grandparents."
"Brent, don't just stand there. Go get their bags from the car," my mom interrupts.
"It's no big deal. I'll get 'em later," replies Bright. But Brent's already halfway to the door.
"Don't be silly. You've been traveling all morning. Sit down, have something to drink. There pop in the refrigerator," my mother insists.
"Pop?" Bright asks me under his breath so only I can hear him.
"Soda," I clarify just as quietly. "Thanks Mom. Nina and Sam say hi." I add.
"How is Nina these days? I've been meaning to write her."
"Sam's keeping her busy." I smile at that thought. Sam's gotten so tall recently. "She and Jake are happy."
"That's good." My mom nods.
"Where do these go?" asks Brent from the doorway. He holding a duffel bag in each hand. Both Bright and I are light packers. I look at my mom, waiting for an answer.
"Hannah's room." I'm surprised. My mom never would have let a boy stay in my room before (not that the opportunity ever came up). "Why don't you two go and unpack and get ready for dinner and do what you need to do?"
I lead Bright upstairs to my room. It's exactly the way it was before I left. Except for a cot in the middle of the floor. I should have known. My mom might trust me enough to let me share a room with my boyfriend under her roof now, but she still wasn't going to relax completely.
"I should have known." Bright laughs a little. "Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who gets the bed?" he jokes.
"No way." I grin back at him. I lay back against my pillows to claim the bed for myself.
"So. . ." He sits down on the cot and faces me. I know what he's trying to ask me. What about my father? During the entire time we were downstairs no one mentioned him once.
"I don't know," I say slowly and I sit up. This doesn't seem like a conversation that's best had laying down. "I don't know if I'm ready to see him or not."
"It's cool."
"I know it sounds awful, but it's not my Dad in that bedroom. My dad died a long time ago. Everything that made him my Dad disappeared a long time ago and that's as good as dead, you know?"
"Would anyone like some more mashed potatoes?" my mom offers the dish to all of us sitting around the table. In addition to Bright, my brother and my mom, my mom's brother, his wife and their three kids are here as well. We all shake our heads. I think we've all eaten enough to last us until Christmas. I don't even want to think about dessert yet.
"I wanna build a snowman!" shouts Robby, my youngest cousin. I think he's nine this year. His older brother and sister echo him. Aunt Lucy goes to get them bundled up and ready to go outside. Bright takes one look out the bay window at the pristine snow covered back yard and goes to get his jacket.
I settle for drinking a cup of apple cider and watching the four of them outside in the snow. I hear my mom talking quietly in the kitchen. I watch as each of my cousins rolls a part of the snowman's body, making tracks across the back yard. I watch as Robbie struggles to put the snowman's head on top of its middle and Bright helps him. Bright doesn't just do it himself like some adults would. Instead he helps Robbie just enough so that Robbie can take credit for it.
Meanwhile Karen and Jeremy have broken off from the group and started stockpiling a mountain of snowballs. Jeremy lobs one that hits Bright square in the back. I can't help but laugh at the way Bright freezes, then spins around. There's a mischievous glint in his eye. I'm not entirely sure if I can tell by the expression on his face or if it's just because I know him so well. He bends down and scoops up a handful of snow and expertly molds it into a sphere and hurls it back. Before I know it there's a full fledged snow war going on in the backyard with snowballs flying back and forth.
"He a good guy?" asks Brent. I hadn't heard him come up behind me.
"Yeah." I nod and smile. Bright and I have been together for almost a year. I'd caught my boyfriend cheating on me and broken up with him. And then spent the next month moping around Nina's house. I'd been devastated. He was the first boy I'd ever loved. Amy was convinced that I needed to get out of the house and join the land of the living again. And she'd enlisted Bright to help. We started hanging out more and more and eventually started dating.
"You love him?" I wasn't sure if it was a question or not. Anything I'd felt for my ex boyfriend paled in comparison to what I felt for Bright.
"Yeah. I do."
"I'm surprised Mom's actually letting you two stay in the same room."
"I know," I agree.
"Don't do anything to break her trust." His meaning was clear. If I was gonna sleep with Bright it wasn't gonna be in this house.
"You know I'm waiting until I'm married."
"Does he?" Brent asked with a glance out the window.
"He does." He'd known from before the beginning of our relationship and respected me for it. He was willing to wait.
"He really is a good guy." By no means did I need my brother's approval to date somebody, but it felt good to have it none the less.
Over an hour later Bright and my cousins came back inside, making as much noise as possible stomping the snow off their boots and disrobing all their snow gear. I was willing to bet that it was all sitting on the floor in the entryway.
"Man, it's freezing out there!" Bright came upstairs rubbing his hands together trying to warm up.
"Why don't the three of you guys change into some dry clothes and then you can watch a movie in the basement," suggests Aunt Cheryl.
"You too," I say to Bright. I'm willing to bet that he didn't pack a sweatshirt, thinking that he could always wear his jacket. And that was soaking wet now along with the jeans he was wearing. Unlike my cousins, he didn't bring snow pants. "I'll find you a sweatshirt." I find an old Lakeville Panthers Football sweatshirt in Brent's room and bring it to Bright. It's typical of him. The first chance he gets he changes into pyjama pants.
"I am so tired." He falls backwards onto my bed and closes his eyes. A huge turkey dinner followed by over an hour of chasing three kids under the age of fourteen would wear anybody out. I lay down next to him and rest my head on his shoulder and he wraps an arm around me. I love being with him like this. I can never remember feeling safer than when I'm with him.
I'm almost asleep when he mumbles something. I'd thought he was asleep. "What?"
"I wanna meet him." He repeats. I know he's talking about my dad. What touches me most is what he didn't say. He didn't say "I want to see him" which implies that my dad is some kind of exhibit. Like the monkeys at the zoo. He said 'meet'. Like he would about any other person he didn't know.
"You will," I promise.
When I open my eyes again my room is dark. I mush have fallen asleep. What time is it? I turn my head to look for a clock.
"Three AM," says Bright. Of course he'd know that's the first thing I'd want to know when I woke up. I've fallen asleep studying at his place enough times for him to have picked up on that quirk.
"How long have you been up?" I ask.
"Ten, fifteen minutes?"
I get an idea. "Come on." I stand up and hold out my hand. He reluctantly stands up and lets me lead him out of the room. The hallway is pitch black and I feel my way along the wall for the light switch.
"Where are we going?" He blinks at the sudden bright light.
"To meet my dad," I answer. It's actually the perfect time. It might seem weird to anyone who hadn't known me or my dad, but it's not. When I was younger, before my dad's health went completely downhill, I'd wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to get back to sleep. And if he was up working in his study I'd go and talk to him until I was sleepy again. It's part of the reason we were so close.
"It's three in the morning," Bright protests.
"He's not aware of what's going on around him," I say. It's still hard to think about my dad like that, but it's getting easier. I know that Bright's done some research. Actually it's more like he asked Amy what she knew, but it counts.
"Okay."
We reach my dad's bedroom door. I knock lightly twice before I push the door open. I'm not sure why I knocked really, it's just polite. The way my dad's sitting in bed makes it look like he's sleeping. I guess he could be.
I speak softly. "Hi Dad, there's someone I want you to meet."